Star Wars: Vergence III, Chapter Seven

 CHAPTER SEVEN

Naboo

The city of Theed never looked more beautiful than in the morning. 

As the sun rose from behind the hills on the horizon, Theed seemed to glow with a verdant aura as the nascent rays of sunlight reflected off of the green domes that topped the elegant architecture. Unlike the cities found on planets like Coruscant or Chandrila, Theed had a feel to it that those cities failed to capture. An authentic feeling, one that felt more real than manufactured. Theed’s aesthetic was a handcrafted one; one that had been borne from an era of strife and suffering. Its beautiful and harmonious design came from a place of struggle; a struggle that people born and raised in the privileged realm of the Core Worlds could never fully understand for themselves.

Darius Naberrie was proud to be from Naboo. In his mind, there was no greater honor.

Turning away from the gorgeous view that greeted his bedroom window, Darius strode over to his full-sized mirror to assess himself once again. He straightened his collar and readjusted the cuffs of his black-and-white suit. While the Naboo traditionally dressed in more vibrant colors for their ceremonies, Darius wanted to wear something more… mundane for this particular occasion. The woman to whom he was betrothed was not of Naboo nor would she be wearing a dress that was anywhere near as extravagant and flamboyant as was custom of Naboo women. While he knew it would disappoint his mother and aunt, he saw it as a priority to appease his future wife—as well as her family—as much as possible. Otherwise, the past four years would have been for nothing.

A knock sounded at the door. With one last readjustment of his collar, Darius turned sharply on his heel and strode over to the door, pressing a control panel to open it. Standing outside was an elderly man in dark violet robes, his balding head bowed respectfully.

“Master Darius, your transportation has arrived.”

“Very good, Valne,” Darius replied. “Let us not keep them waiting.”

With that, he began to briskly make his way through the halls of his large and expansive mansion. While it was nowhere near as grand as the Royal Palace, it was still the envy of many of his peers, even those who were older and had been in his field of politics longer than he had. Perhaps being the great-nephew of the late Queen Amidala had its benefits. Though it more than likely had to do with the connections he had made for himself in the last decade.

Ever since he had left his home in the Lake Country nearly ten years ago, Darius had made it his goal to become as successful as possible. While his older siblings had been content in living more humble, mundane lives, Darius had striven for the opposite. He wanted the Naberries to become relevant in Naboo society again, as they had fallen into irrelevancy since Amidala’s death sixty years ago. He understood that the motive behind this was to protect themselves from the wrath of the Emperor, himself an heir of Naboo. But the Emperor was dead, as was his Empire. There was no longer a need to remain in the shadows. It was time for the Naberries to finally wield the influential power they had always had.

Outside, Darius found the Seraph-class landspeeder waiting for him at the front gates, a grave-faced chauffeur sitting in the driver’s seat. After thanking Valne for his service, Darius took the seat next to the driver.

“To the Temple of Shiraya, sir?” the driver asked, his tone low and monotonous.

“Yes,” Darius said, exhaling deeply. He had a long day ahead of him. “With haste.”

The landspeeder kicked up dust and leaves as it peeled away from the mansion. 

*  *  *

“The wedding is today, isn’t it, Captain?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Daine Fallos, captain of the Royal Naboo Security Forces, watched from where he stood by the door as the Queen of Naboo was fitted for a new ceremonial dress. At eighteen years old, Reneme was hardly the youngest to ever be elected Queen of Naboo though she nonetheless carried an innocence with her that Fallos had seen in all her predecessors. He could only hope that her time as Queen would not mar that innocence too much. From his experience, politics were especially draining.

“I’ve been hearing that Senator Naberrie is related to a predecessor of mine,” Queen Reneme went on, her gaze fixated on a window that gave her a view of the city of Theed. “Is that correct?”

Fallos frowned to himself. “You were not aware of that fact, Your Highness?”

“I’ve never been one for history or trivial things like family lineages,” Reneme said, sounding partly abashed. “My tutors can attest to that.”

Fallos cleared his throat. “Well, in any case, yes, Senator Naberrie is indeed related to Queen Amidala. He is the son of one of her nieces.”

“Fascinating.” Reneme continued to stare out the window as her handmaidens finished up their work. Once they were done, she stepped down from the pedestal she had been standing on and turned around to face Fallos. “What time is it, again?”

“Pardon, Your Highness?”

“The wedding.”

“Ah. Two hours from now, I believe.”

Reneme nodded silently and turned back to her handmaidens. One of them was holding up two different dresses. After regarding them for a moment, the Queen pointed at an elaborate and ornate cerulean dress in the handmaiden’s right hand.

“That one will do fine.”

“Very wise, Your Majesty,” the handmaiden said and hurried off to an adjacent room with the others. Without saying anything further to Fallos, Reneme followed them and the captain of security was soon left alone in the room.

A few minutes had passed when Fallos’s comlink went off. Answering it, he said, “What is it?”

“Captain, a Corellian transport just docked at the city’s spaceport.”

“And? You checked their security clearance, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir, and everything checks out. But I thought you’d want to look at them yourself.”

Fallos sighed, holding back his frustration. “I’m posted at the Queen’s fitting room. I can’t exactly leave—”

“I will transmit a visual to your datapad, sir.”

Fallos rolled his eyes as he brought out the device in question. Within seconds, an image of the Corellian transport in question showed up and his eyebrows shot up to his forehead.

“Well, then,” he murmured. “That’s interesting….”

*  *  *

“We’re not actually attending this wedding, are we?” Bedo asked. “Because I lost my best suit during that business on Telerath….”

“I don’t think we are,” said Kyla, stepping down the ramp of the Renegade. “I think Valrisa just wants to have a chat with the bride.”

“Then why are we all going? Why can’t I just stay on the ship?”

“Because after what happened on Terminus, I think she’s in more danger than she realizes.” Kyla stopped to look back up the ramp. While Ace, Wiskin, Kadar, and Vessin were right behind them, Valrisa was exchanging some quiet words with her Pantoran partner Typha. The dark Jedi Zarin Kal was also lingering behind, glancing concernedly between the couple and the rest of the Renegades.

“Besides,” Kyla added quietly. “I feel that I owe her after everything we’ve been through on Corellia and Ord Mantell.”

“We don’t owe them anything!” Bedo objected. “All of this stuff started happening as soon as she and her weird friends joined our crew!”

“Quiet,” Kyla hissed to the Ortolan, noticing that Valrisa and her companions were heading down the ramp to join them. “So,” she said, “where do we start looking for this Valera woman?”

“I’m sure this wedding is supposed to be a big deal around here,” Valrisa replied. “If we ask around, we’ll probably find someone who knows where it’s being held at.”

“Are you sure we won’t look suspicious?” growled Wiskin. “A Cathar, a Mirialan, a Bothan, an Ortolan, a Pantoran, two Mandalorians, and two humans dressed like smugglers asking where to find an important politician and his soon-to-be wife? You don’t think that’s going to attract unwanted attention?”

“What, are those species uncommon on Naboo?” asked Bedo.

“Do you see any of them around?”

Bedo glanced around the spaceport to confirm that, indeed, there were hardly any one else who was not a human or a Gungan roaming around Theed. “Well,” he said quietly, “maybe if we pose as a traveling band again….”

“Maybe if we stick close together, most will just assume we are tourists,” suggested Ace. “While there may not be any Bothans or Cathar living on Naboo, surely some have visited in the past before. If nothing else, we can always use that excuse if anyone asks.”

“And if they don’t fall for it?” Bedo asked.

“What does it even matter?” said Typha. “It’s not like we actually mean anyone harm. We’re just looking for answers.”

“And whenever we do that, people start bringing harm to us,” Bedo replied.

Typha rolled her eyes as she gave Kyla a look. “Is there a reason you keep him around?”

Ignoring the question, Kyla said, “Let’s proceed with Ace’s plan. If something goes wrong, we can always improvise.”

“Yeah, because we’re so good at doing that,” Bedo muttered.

“Enough,” said Kyla. “Let’s get a move on. Hopefully we won’t run into too much trouble….”

*  *  *

“Grrraaaghhh.”

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, pal,” Remar muttered as he paced around the hotel room he and Sharbrook were staying in. Just outside the window, he could see the Temple of Shiraya where the wedding of Senator Darius Naberrie and Lady Valera Teramo would be taking place in less than two hours. The plan, as given to them by Drakmos the Despised, was to snipe Lady Valera from afar when she and her new husband exited from the temple. The two of them would then make their getaway via an escape route that had been laid out for them, allowing them to evade Theed security when they inevitably came to the hotel in search of them.

The more he thought about it however, the less he liked this plan. Both the assassination and escape aspects. Already he was starting to regret accepting Drakmos’s job and he was pretty sure Sharbrook was feeling the same way, given the Wookiee’s constant grumblings.

“You think its too late to back out now?” Remar asked after a moment, stopping to look at Sharbrook. “Or do you think Drakmos has eyes on us in case we don’t go through with it?”

Sharbrook grunted as if to say, “What do you think?”

Scowling to himself, Remar resumed pacing, making his way to the window and peering out to get a look at the Temple of Shiraya. Already he could see people in fancy dresses and suits making their way up the steps to get a front row seat to the upcoming ceremony. He had no idea why this wedding was such a big deal or why so many people had been invited. Then again, it was pretty typical for people of wealth to know each other, as big as the galaxy was. It was just one of the many things that made them so pretentious that Remar detested them more than any type of being in the galaxy. It was also one of the reasons he avoided places like Canto Bight like the plague, where they practically bred like Lepi.

After taking a shallow breath, Remar said, “This’ll be the last one, okay? One last job. We get through this and we’re done, yeah? No more killing. No more hunting. Sound good?”

Sharbrook growled to tell him that it didn’t but offered no further objections. Left with no other options, Remar found a chair to sit in and waited. 

*  *  *

Despite being the aunt of the groom, Pooja Naberrie was not looking forward to the wedding.

If she was being honest with herself, she had always found Darius to be a bit… off. She rarely voiced these concerns to her sister, for fear of offending her. But ever since he started attending private academies and climbing the political ladder, Darius had begun expressing political views that were eerily similar to controversial figures of the past, particularly those that had been prominent in the Imperial Senate during her own time as Senator of Naboo. It made her fear that all of the work that she and other early members of the New Republic was being undone and that it would soon be supplanted by a new Empire. And if those rumors about a First Order were anything to go by, her fears were in danger of being realized. 

It also didn’t help whom her nephew was getting married to. While she did not know much about this Lady Teramo, she was familiar enough with the Houses of Serenno to know that they were more pro-Imperial than they were pro-Alliance. After the death of Palpatine, they had sworn loyalty to the warlord Zsinj until he met his demise and then had briefly sided with the Sith seventeen years ago. While Serenno had stayed with the Alliance since then, they had not been shy about their controversial views and would likely be among the first to join a new Empire should one come to power. The fact that Darius was allying himself with such people put Pooja at unease, to say the least.

Still, she would keep up appearances as best she could and feign support for her nephew and his bride’s marital union. If nothing else, she would at least get a chance to speak to the person she really wanted to talk to. 

Thankfully, the coded message she had received on her comlink had informed her that she would get that chance very soon.

The Falcon has landed. 

Something told her that she and her cousin were going to have a very interesting conversation….

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XVI, Chapter Two

 CHAPTER TWO

Metroplex, Earth’s orbit

“The Decepticons are gone? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Skids said, his face displayed on the viewscreen in front of Elita-One. “The city is pretty much deserted; no sign of Trypticon or any of the ‘Cons ships. My guess is they used Trypticon’s space bridge to warp away.”

Elita frowned, holding her chin in her hand. “The question is why, though?” 

It was just one of the many questions running through her mind. Just moments ago, they had gotten a lock on the Predacons’ ship and had been about to join the Maximals in pursuing them when the Predacons inexplicably warped away after firing on the Glastenbury Mountain. Everything between then and now had been a blur; Elita could have sworn something else had happened, something particularly devastating, but when Metroplex’s scanners were alerted to strange activity occurring in Verenya, it all slipped from her mind. She had sent Sky Lynx and a small team of Autobots to scout the area, only to apparently find it devoid of Decepticons.

As Elita continued to ponder the matter, Skids spoke up again. “Hang on. Sky Lynx just found something.” 

“Decepticons?”

“No. I think it’s….” Skids paused for a moment as he looked at something off-screen. “I think it’s Sari. That human girl you guys are friends with.”

“Is she all right?” Elita asked, bracing herself for the worse.

“Looks like it. She seems to be waving us down. I’ll get back to you once we pick her up.”

Elita nodded, allowing herself to relax somewhat. “Very well. I will await your response.”

As Skids’ image dissolved from the viewscreen, Elita turned around in time to see Rodimus Prime step into the command center. The young Autobot leader had been quiet lately, ever since he and the Crusadercons had been picked up following Planet X’s destruction. This had left her and Optimus Prime to oversee most operations on Earth, though Rodimus had been making an effort of relaying information to the Council of Worlds (whatever remained of it) and making sure things back on Cybertron stayed together. As he stepped into the room, Rodimus’s optics moved from Elita to the viewscreen.

“Any news?”

“Skids and his team have found Sari,” Elita replied. “The Decepticons have also appeared to have vacated Verenya. No idea if they’ve relocated to somewhere else on Earth or in the galaxy.”

“So long as they haven’t moved to Cybertron, then this might be a relief for us,” Rodimus replied. He paused for a moment before saying, “This is going to be a strange thing to ask, but did you… feel anything recently?”

“What do you mean?”

“As if something just happened and then un-happened? Like it got redone or… overwritten?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Elita said. “It was right when that storm was happening all around Earth. I could have sworn something happened right after that, something happening to Earth. But all I can remember as soon as the storm ended was finding Earth unharmed and feeling… surprised? Relieved? Maybe a mix of both.”

“So it’s not just me then. Thank Primus.” A grimace crossed Rodimus’s face. “Hopefully its not Brainstorm getting up to his time-traveling antics again. I already know that he does drastic things when things get desperate.”

Before Elita could reply, Skids’s face appeared on the viewscreen again. “Elita, this is Skids. We’ve found more than just Sari down here.”

“What is it?” Elita asked.

“We’ve found a bot who’s badly injured. First Aid’s already got him stabilized and we’re loading him onto Sky Lynx.” Skids then frowned as he looked over his shoulder at something just out of view. “And, uh, you know that Talisman thing we’ve all been fussed about lately?”

“Yes?”

“It’s, uh, gone now. As in, somebody just blew it up. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“I’m sure we’re going to find out one way or the other,” Elita muttered. “Return to Metroplex so we can debrief this whole situation. I’ve got a feeling that this is only just the beginning….”

Sky Lynx’s crew, leaving Verenya

Skids stared down at the mono-eyed bot that they had rescued, along with Sari, as he laid on a repair slab while First Aid operated on him. The mysterious bot’s appearance looked like a mismatch of different shapes and colors, with green legs that looked strangely familiar, an equally familiar orange chestplate, and a head that was little more than a ball with a small window for a single optical sensor. The bot’s overall appearance reminded Skids of the Functionists who had practically ruled Cybertron during its Golden Age, making him wonder if there was a connection between the two.

After a moment of contemplation, Skids was unable to contain himself anymore and asked the question he was thinking. “Who are you?”

The mysterious bot looked up at him. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“I have my assumptions. But I want to hear it from you.”

The bot was silent for a brief moment, as if trying to decide how to respond. Finally, he said, “It’s strange, you know. When I look at you, I feel a sense of both relief… and anger.”

Skids raised an optic ridge. “Oh, yeah? And why is that?”

“Because not so long ago, you rescued me from myself. Or, in other words, you rescued a part of myself from another.”

First Aid sighed in exasperation. “Are you guys going to be talking like this for the whole trip?”

Sharing in the medic’s frustration, Skids decided to go ahead and voice what he was already assuming. “Your legs are from Chief Justice Tyrest. Your chest is from Rung.”

“And my arms are from Adaptus,” the bot continued for him. “And my head is none other than Epistemus the Magnificence. Together, we are Primus.”

This was enough to give even First Aid pause. “Rodimus Prime told us about you,” the medic said quietly. “You’re also the Grand Architect, aren’t you?”

Primus uttered a haggard laugh from his vocal processor. “I do not feel so ‘grand’ anymore. Not after everything that has happened.”

Skids scowled. “Whatever the case, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. I don’t think anyone’s going to be happy to see you.”

Primus’s single optic fell on Skids’s face. “Is that anyway to speak to your old friend, Skids? After all you have done to try and rescue me, this is how you greet me?”

Skids shook his head. “I have no idea how much of Rung is actually in you. After everything you’ve put us through, especially back on Planet X, I’d wager it isn’t much.”

To this, Primus had nothing to say. Instead, he simply laid back down on the repair slab and allowed First Aid to continue working on him.

Turning away from them, Skids looked over to where Sari Sumdac was sitting. The techno-organic seemed exhausted but otherwise unharmed.

“So,” he said, “what exactly happened back there? How did you end up in the Talisman’s chamber?”

Taking a breath, Sari said, “It’s a very long story. I think it’d be best if we just wait until I can tell it to everyone else.”

“Fair enough,” Skids said. “In the meantime, do you, uh, need anything? I know that you’re part organic and part machine, so… I don’t know if you need water or food or anything. Not that we have anything like that here….”

Sari shook her head. “That’s fine. I think I just need to get some rest,” she said, already laying down on the oversized bench she was sitting on. “I’ve had a very long day.”

“Probably for the best,” Skids admitted. “Because I think it’s just going to get worse from here….”

Trypticon, New Kaon

Megatron stared at the disembodied head of Shockwave in his hand. Its single yellow optic had gone dark and the purple sheen of its armor plating was already starting to turn gray. A nasty slash ran down the middle of the cranium, threatening to split the late Decepticon’s skull into two and pretty much totaling the brain module within. Whoever had perpetrated Shockwave’s murder had really wanted to make sure he was dead. 

“Security footage indicates that the Decepticon by the designation of Viral was the one responsible for Shockwave’s demise,” said Soundwave, standing nearby. “He appears to have used a built-in transwarp drive to teleport away. There is no telling as to his current location.”

“Pfah. Who cares?” said Starscream, standing next to Soundwave with his arms crossed. “It’s not like anyone liked the one-eyed freak anyway. He would have just gotten in the way like he always did.”

“Are you no different, Starscream?” Megatron asked, not taking his eyes off Shockwave’s head.

The Air Commander scowled. “You know what I’m talking about. He was responsible for that Secret Order scrap last stellar cycle. I never did anything of the sort.”

Megatron probably could have thought of something to counter that claim but he was not in the mood for it. Without warning, he tossed Shockwave’s head at Starscream and the Seeker reflexively caught it before letting out a disgusted squawk.

“Augh! Why are you giving me this—”

“Take it down to recycling so it can be scrapped and used for parts,” Megatron muttered. “Or, better yet, have it melted in the smelting pools. Whichever is more convenient for you.”

“Really?” Starscream asked, looking genuinely surprised. “You’re just getting rid of him, just like that? No memorial service or…?”

“You said it yourself, Starscream. No one liked him and he has done us no favors in the past few stellar cycles. Throw him into the trash where he belongs.”

Still looking bemused, as well as even a bit gratified, Starscream promptly departed from the room with Shockwave’s head. As soon as he was gone, Megatron directed his attention back to Soundwave.

“How goes the mobilization?”

“Deathsaurus has already prepared his fleet. Onslaught and the other generals are still in the process of readying theirs, but they should be ready within the next two mega-cycles.”

“Good,” Megatron grunted. “Hopefully the Autobots will stay clueless long enough for us to strike. Any longer and they might start preparing their own forces.”

Soundwave nodded but otherwise said nothing. Megatron stared at him, waiting for him to continue speaking. When Soundwave did not, Megatron asked, “Is there anything else you would like to tell me?”

The hint of hesitation in Soundwave’s response did not go by unnoticed. “No, Lord Megatron.”

“Are you sure?” Megatron stepped closer to him, his red optics flaring. “I am more than happy to hear what you have to say.”

Another moment of hesitation. Then, Soundwave said, “I do not think you should go through with this.”

Megatron blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“I do not think you should destroy Earth.”

Megatron scowled. “And why is that? Don’t tell me you’ve come to care for that pathetic planet!”

“Negative,” Soundwave evenly replied. “I simply believe you are acting in a reactionary manner. We should devote more time towards contemplating our actions before we end up doing something we will regret.”

“As if I would ever regret ridding the universe of Earth and its Autobot defenders!” Megatron roared. “I should have done this long ago when I had the chance!”

“This is not like you,” Soundwave said, his voice suddenly quiet. “This is not the Megatron I know. The Megatron I knew was willing to sacrifice himself to save Cybertron. You even worked with Optimus Prime to take down Shockwave. And now you are going to kill him and everyone else on Earth?”

“I wasted my second lease on life by trying to make amends with Prime,” Megatron growled. “I thought I had nothing to lose. But now… now I have everything to lose.”

“Nonetheless, I advise you not to proceed so recklessly into devastation. We should consider our other alternatives before—”

“I have already made my mind! This is my command and you will follow it! Do you understand?!”

Soundwave stared at him before letting his shoulders slump in defeat. “I understand.”

Megatron stepped back from him, satisfied with this response. “Good. Now then, let us—”

He was cut off by a deafening sonic scream that sent him flying across the room and crashing into his throne. He struggled to get back up only to find himself pinned down by the sonic assault. He barely managed to lift himself enough to see Soundwave standing there, releasing the sounds from his built-in speakers, as he stared at the Decepticon leader with a look of regret.

Through the deafening noises, Megatron was able to detect a voice speaking on a frequency that he could still hear. A voice that was all too familiar to him.

“It doesn’t feel as good when you’re on the receiving end, does it, Megatron?”

“Trypticon…?” Megatron struggled to say.

“Don’t be so obtuse. You know exactly who you are speaking to.”

“But… but you’re dead.”

“Maybe I am. But we both know how little that means these days.”

Megatron balled his hands into fists, glaring furiously at Soundwave. “I should have known better than to take you back in,” he said through gritted teeth. “Once a traitor, always a—”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on him,” the voice of Trypticon interjected. “I pressured him into doing this. We were both hoping that you would back out of this ill-advised plan and give yourself time to actually think things through. Unfortunately, you played our hands.”

“Soundwave,” Megatron growled, struggling to raise his voice through the noises. “Cease this at once. I command you. I am your leader!”

“He can’t hear you, I’m afraid. Even if he could, it wouldn’t matter. I have plenty of other means to dispose of you. Including….”

The floor suddenly vanished beneath Megatron and the Decepticon found himself plummeting several feet through Trypticon’s levels. When he finally came to an abrupt and rough stop, the sounds Soundwave had been generating had mercifully stopped but he was now no longer in the throne room. Instead, he was in Trypticon’s auxiliary command center, where the Titan’s “captain” Full-Tilt had been relocated after Megatron had claimed the primary one for himself. The purple-plated captain in question stared at Megatron in silence as Trypticon’s voice continued to echo all around him.

“It is time that I took back what is rightfully mine. Soon, the Decepticon Empire will know who its true Emperor of Destruction is… and Cybertron will acknowledge its rightful ruler.”

“No!” Megatron roared. Jumping back to his feet, he lunged for Full-Tilt and was about to tear the smaller Decepticon apart when a large arm suddenly grabbed him from behind and pulled him into the darkness.

Star Wars: Vergence III, Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX 

Mustafar

The air smelt of sulfur as Kylo Ren stepped out of his TIE Silencer. Even with his mask, he could still smell the smoke and ash in the air and feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his robes. If there ever was a planet in the galaxy that could be described as a living hell, then Mustafar was a sufficient candidate. For all its reputation as a volcanic world however, the spot that Kylo had landed in was distinguished by the presence of tree saplings sprouting from the ground. How this was possible on a world as desolate as Mustafar, he could not even begin to guess. At the moment however, it was the least of his concerns.

As he began to tread his way through the nascent forest, a tingle at the back of his head prompted him to notice several sets of yellow eyes glowing at him from beyond the surrounding fog. He rested a hand on his lightsaber hilt but the strange beings made no move to approach or attack him. Regardless, he remained wary of them as he continued his journey. 

After walking for some time, Kylo Ren eventually reached a clearing on the outskirts of the forest, which opened out into a small lake. The brackish water reflected Mustafar’s dark red skies, which caused it to look like a pool of blood. As he gazed upon the lake, Kylo felt the tingling in his head increase as a humid breeze passed over him, carrying words through the air.

“You seek answers,” the voice said.

“Who’s there?” Kylo Ren asked, looking around as he unclipped his lightsaber from his belt.

“There is no need to raise your weapon. I mean you no harm.”

“And just who are you, exactly?” Kylo growled. While he did not activate his lightsaber, he also did not put it back on his belt.

“I am known as the Eye of Webbish Bog, the Oracle of Mustafar, the Keeper of a Thousand Secrets. I have many names but only one purpose: to share my knowledge with those who seek it.”

“My master sent me here for my final trial. Are you part of the trial?”

“Did the Force not lead you to me?”

“No,” Kylo muttered. “I am here for the ruins of a fortress that once belonged to my grandfather.”

“Ah! You speak of the Dark Lord Vader. A powerful Sith Lord was he. Yes, his fortress once stood proud and tall here on Mustafar until his untimely demise. Since then, it has stood here abandoned; fallen victim to time of disuse. Have you come to claim it for yourself?”

The thought had not crossed Kylo Ren’s mind until now. Snoke had not told him the purpose of his visit to Mustafar; was it what the Oracle was suggesting, perhaps?

Deciding to humor the prospect, he said to the voice, “Yes. I have come to claim the fortress for myself.”

“Then I am afraid you will be met with some resistance.”

Hearing movement behind him, Kylo turned around to see the beings he had seen earlier emerge from the forest. Yellow eyes glowed from beneath dome-shaped hats as they raised their blaster rifles at the Knight of Ren.

“The Alazmec of Winsit worship Darth Vader as the true Dark Lord of the Sith,” the Oracle spoke in Kylo’s ear. “They do not take kindly to those who threaten to challenge that notion.”

“I am no Sith,” Kylo said quietly.

“And you are no Vader. And that, frankly, is all they care about.”

The voice fell silent as Kylo Ren ignited his lightsaber blade. The gathered Alazmec let out a warbled cry as they opened fire. Leaping into the air, Kylo lunged at the cultists and brought his blade down onto the group’s leader. As the Alazmec’s body fell to the ground, Kylo did not pause for even a moment as he proceeded to cut his way through the horde.

The Supremacy

It was nice to have legs again, Ochi thought as he walked down the corridors of the Supremacy. The technology that the Supreme Leader had at his disposal aboard his Super Star Destroyer was so advanced that he could not even tell that they were prosthetics; his new legs felt as real as his old ones had been. Then again, he was no stranger to having new body parts or even new bodies entirely. After all these years, he had become numb to such processes. So long as he could move around freely, he could be using a droid body for all he cared.

Well, that might be pushing it a little too far, Ochi reflected as he spotted a black-plated BB unit roll past him. The spherical droid rotated its flat dome head to look at him with its singular red photoreceptor and let out a warbled tone before continuing its way down the corridor. Behind his mask, Ochi rolled his eyes. Who could fathom droid behavior?

After turning down a few more hallways, Ochi finally reached the detention block that was his destination. Standing guard at the control station was an officer and two stormtroopers. After providing them with his security clearance, Ochi proceeded to make his way down to the only occupied cell on the entire level. He keyed the entry code into the control panel and the door swished open, revealing its solitary occupant.

Kane Skywalker, clone of Anakin, was held suspended in the air by mechanical appendages extending from all corners of the small box that served as his cell. He had been stripped of his prosthetic limbs and mask, leaving his scarred face bare. Unlike his template, the clone Skywalker did not appear to suffer the same respiratory issues that Darth Vader had; clearly the labored mechanical breathing Ochi had heard from him back on Lothal had merely been for show. For what purpose, though, Ochi had yet to figure out.

Stepping into the cell, Ochi waited for the door to close behind him before speaking to his prisoner. “You intrigue me, Skywalker,” the assassin said. “Its rare enough to find clones of Force-sensitives, let alone ones that are mentally stable. But a clone of the Chosen One himself? I wouldn’t have believed it if someone told me.”

Kane Skywalker said nothing, glaring at Ochi with his blue eyes.

“But what interests me is why you’re in the state you’re in,” Ochi went on. “I’ve met the man you were created from. And even though he bested me, I could tell that he was being held back. That mechanical suit of his prevented him from being the powerful Sith that he could have been. Without it, do you think he would have remained the Emperor’s lackey? I don’t think so. I’m sure Palpatine would have been a footnote in Imperial history and we would all still be under the tyranny of an Emperor Vader.

“And look at you. Somehow, you have ended up with the same hindrances as Vader in the exact same manner, all the way down to the suit. Surely this couldn’t have been happenstance. You did this to yourself, didn’t you?”

“Do you think I am not aware of what I am capable of?” Kane retorted.

“Given what I’ve seen from you, I strongly doubt it,” Ochi replied.

Kane’s eyes narrowed, a shadow falling over his face. “When I realized just what I was capable of without anyone, Jedi or Sith, to keep me in check, I brought this fate onto myself so that the galaxy would never have to fear from another Darth Vader—a more powerful Darth Vader.”

“And just what was it that made you realize your potential?”

Kane hesitated for the briefest of seconds, though Ochi noticed it all the same. “I received a vision—”

“A vision?” Ochi scoffed. “Please, don’t make me laugh. That has to be oldest excuse in the Jedi book.”

Kane scowled. “It is none the less true—”

“You and I both know that it isn’t.” Ochi stepped closer to the clone Skywalker, his hand drifting towards a dagger holstered on his belt. “Tell me the truth or I will cut it out of you myself.”

“Your empty threats mean nothing to me,” Kane said coolly.

“Yeah?” The assassin unsheathed his dagger and held it to Kane’s throat. “Try me. You can’t do anything in here; you don’t have any limbs and this cage deafens you to the Force. What could you possibly do to stop me from gutting you right here and now?”

Kane stared straight into the eye holes of his mask, his expression calm and even.

“You’ve said it yourself,” he said quietly. “I am more powerful than any Jedi or Sith has ever been. What makes you think that any of those things can hinder me?”

Before Ochi could process this, he found himself being pushed back by an invisible hand. It hadn’t been a strong push, not enough to knock him off his feet. But it had been enough to tell him that, indeed, Kane Skywalker was far from completely hindered here than a typical Force-user would be. Realizing that he was breathing hard, Ochi quickly regathered his composure and sheathed his dagger, straightening himself in the vain hope that Kane would not notice his unease.

“How impressive,” he said, mentally wincing at how shaky his voice still sounded. “I’ll be sure to inform the Supreme Leader of this… oversight.”

“You do that,” Kane replied. “Now, are we done? Did you come down all this way just to taunt me?”

“Not exactly,” Ochi said. “The Supreme Leader sent me to deliver you a message.”

“He couldn’t tell me himself?”

“Who am I to question him? Anyway, he just wants you to know that the Dowager is dead.”

Kane stared back at him with a nonplussed expression. “I don’t know who that is.”

“I think you do.”

“No. I genuinely do not.”

Ochi shrugged. “If you say so. Just thought I would pass the information along.”

With that, the assassin opened the cell door and made his departure, leaving Kane Skywalker alone to dwell over the news he had delivered.

Mustafar

Kylo Ren panted heavily as he stood over the dead bodies of the Alazmec, his lightsaber still crackling in his hand. The slaughter had happened so fast that he did not have the time to process each life he took. He had been so lost in his rage, so lost in the dark side, that he could barely remember how the fight had even started.

It all came back to him when he heard the Oracle’s voice speak into his ear again. “I suppose that leaves no question. You may now proceed to the fortress.”

“Just what exactly are you?” Kylo snapped, spinning around to face the lake again. “You’ve told me your name, but you haven’t shown….”

He trailed off as he saw that something had since arisen from the lake. Partially submerged within the blood-colored pool was some sort of giant that had the appearance of a humanoid infant, its eyes squeezed shut. Sitting atop its head was a spider-like creature that had its limbs firmly gripped around the giant’s cranium, securing its perch as it stared down at the Knight of Ren.

“It is rare when I receive visitors,” said the Eye of Webbish Bog. “Rarer still when I receive visitors that I see worth in sparing. You would be wise to not waste my mercy.”

“So that’s it then? You’re just going to let me go?” Kylo gestured to the dead Alazmec around him. “How is killing these cultist freaks part of my trial?”

“I am not the one who gave you this trial,” the Oracle replied. “Such queries are for someone else. All I can do is guide you, however much I can, on the path that your master has set you on.”

Kylo grunted to himself as he shut off his lightsaber. Looking past the Eye of Webbish Bog and through the surrounding fog, he could see the abandoned ruins of a pronged tower that was no doubt his intended destination.

“Do you know what I will find there?” he asked.

“Only what you bring with you.”

With those cryptic words, the strange arachnid and its giant partner sunk back into the lake and disappeared from view. Kylo stared at the space where the Oracle had been for a moment before setting his sights on the fortress of Darth Vader and carrying on with his journey.

Transformers Regenerated: Tarnished - Part 5

TALES OF THE DISAPPEARED:

TARNISHED, PART V

Cycle 9314, the Autobot Orbital Command Hub

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Dominus Ambus stood before Prowl in the latter’s office aboard the Autobot Orbital Command Hub. Through the main window, the planet of Opulus glowed like an orange ball of gas.

“I am,” he answered evenly, holding his helmet in the crook of his arm so that Prowl could see his true face; or at least, the face he wanted him to see, with the facial insignia of House Ambus proudly displayed on his upper lip.

Prowl eyed him carefully, his blue optics searching Dominus’s own. “You have a lot to live for,” he said softly. “A Conjunx Endura who admires you. A wealth of knowledge. A philosophical mind. A lot of us wish we could have the life that you live. You are an inspiration to a lot of Autobots. To commit to something like this would be to leave all of that behind.”

“I understand the sacrifice I must make,” Dominus said. “This was not an easy decision for me, but it is one I needed to make regardless of the risks involved.”

“Is there a particular reason why you want to do this?”

Dominus hesitated before answering. “Ever since K’th Kinsere, I have found… difficulty in finding my place with the Autobots,” he began. “Working with the likes of the Wreckers and the Dynobots showed me that I do not fit in with the soldiers, and my attempts to speak to Autobots’ sparks through my written works have fallen on malfunctioning audio receptors. I have since come to realize that, if I am to make a proper impact in our war against the Decepticons, then perhaps my skills would be better suited on the other side of the line.”

Prowl tilted his head questioningly. “And what do you hope to achieve, with your skills, by infiltrating the Decepticons?”

“With my charisma and foresight, I can get my servos on secrets that Decepticon High Command won’t allow even their own soldiers to know. I would do everything I can to make sure they never suspect me and get my messages to you in a timely and discreet manner.”

“You seem pretty confident of your own abilities.”

“One does not get as far in life as me without a strong sense of confidence.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Prowl admitted. “I will field your request to Optimus Prime for approval. Luckily for you, we have so few applicants to this kind of job that you’re pretty much guaranteed it.”

Dominus raised an optic ridge at this. “You mean we’ve been at war for five hundred years and we don’t already have an Autobot infiltrator in the enemy’s ranks?”

“We do, actually. In fact, he might be your best bet at getting deep into the Decepticons’ command structure. Once I get Prime’s approval, I’ll get in touch with our current agent and see if we can get things arranged.”

Prowl paused for a moment, looking as if he was contemplating over something. Turning to face the window overlooking the surface of Opulus, he continued speaking.

“This request of yours actually comes at an opportune time. High Command has recently begun discussing the prospects of striking the Decepticons’ prison camp on Krull.”

“Grindcore?” Dominus asked.

Prowl nodded. “It will be an incredibly dangerous venture; Grindcore is not only heavily fortified but host to all sorts of horror weapons. Smelting pools, grinders, even electric chairs…. It could take decades, perhaps even centuries, to come up with a foolproof plan that would allow us to bring down Grindcore and get out fellow Autobots out of their without causing further death and destruction.” 

“Which is why you need a bot on the inside to provide you with the intelligence you need,” said Dominus.

“Precisely. And if things go to plan, then you just might be that bot.”

“I will not let you down, Prowl. I swear by my spark.”

“I have no doubts about that.” Prowl paused again before turning around to look Dominus in the optic again. “No one can know about this, you know. Not even those you hold closest to your spark. Your partner. Your brother.”

Dominus bowed his head. “I understand. But they will notice my absence; what are you going to tell them when they start asking questions? Fake my death? Wipe their memories?”

“Let me handle that part. Let’s wait until we hear back from Prime regarding this. Then we can start worrying about the details.”

When Prowl said nothing further, Dominus Ambus took this as a dismissal and placed his helmet over his head as he departed from the room. Upon stepping out of the office, he spotted a familiar white and green bot approaching his direction from the other end of the corridor, holding a datapad in his hand. As Minimus Ambus raised his red optics at him, Dominus nearly acknowledged his brother’s presence by speaking his name only to stop himself; while Minimus and Rewind knew that he was serving in the Autobot forces, he had not told them in what capacity. As far as they knew, he was serving in a primarily clerical role, not serving on the front-lines as a heavily armored soldier. 

He wasn’t sure why he had kept this secret from them. Perhaps it was to keep them out of danger, not that it made much of a difference; Minimus was already serving as a soldier and Rewind had seen combat himself more than once. Them knowing what he was doing would hardly change things. But the point was moot now; he would have to keep this secret them for the rest of his life, regardless of whether or not he wanted to.

“Pardon me, sir,” Minimus Ambus said, snapping Dominus back to reality. “I need to deliver this report to Prowl.”

Dominus uttered a brief apology, his voice heavily modulated to make it unrecognizable, and hastily made his departure. He considered looking over his shoulder to look at his brother for what might have likely been the last time, but he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further.

Thus, he kept on walking and never looked back.

Grindcore

“Commandant, someone is here to see you.”

Damus lowered his copy of Towards Peace to peer at Snare. The crimson-colored Decepticon jet stood in the doorway to his office, along with another Decepticon. The other bot was distinguished by black and purple armor plating, with robot mode kibble indicating an automobile alternate mode. His golden face seemed to be permanently set in a disdainful scowl; at least Damus knew that the feeling was mutual. Setting down the databook onto his desk, he motioned for the newcomer to enter the room.

“Barricade,” Damus said as he rose from behind his desk. “What a pleasant surprise. I was not expecting you of all people to pay a visit.”

“I am strictly here for business purposes,” Barricade replied coolly, stepping into the office. Behind him, Snare took his leave and closed the door, leaving the two Decepticons alone in the room. “High Command has tasked me with performing an inspection of Grindcore.”

“Really?” Damus feigned surprise. “I thought we just had an inspection last cycle.”

“Yes,” Barricade said tersely. “But that was under the previous commandant. Your predecessor. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way.”

Red optics narrowed behind the Decepticon insignia-shaped mask adorning Damus’ face. “Were you afraid I had screwed things up in such a short amount of time?”

“It was not my decision to be here,” Barricade responded pointedly. “I am here on behalf of High Command. If it were up to me, I would much rather be anywhere else in the universe.”

“Is that so? Well then, I am incredibly sorry for your inconvenience.”

“Save it.” Barricade strode over to the main window in the room, which overlooked the rest of the prison camp. Outside, Autobot prisoners were being processed and sent off to their designated sectors to be either put to work, interrogated, tortured, or whatever suited the Decepticons’ fancy. Even from inside, their cries of agony could be heard all throughout Grindcore. Having been stationed at Grindcore for ten years prior to his promotion, Damus was already used to it.

“I will admit, you seem to be a bit more… orderly on how things are done,” Barricade commented after a moment of observation. “I don’t believe Straxus ever put that much care into how things are done.”

“To be fair, Straxus is one of the highest ranking officers in the Decepticon Empire,” Damus said. “Not to mention one of the most seasoned.”

“Still,” Barricade went on. “I can’t help but notice you have a taste for the macabre. The ways you punish these Autobots are… extraordinarily cruel.”

“Do you take issue with that?”

Barricade turned his head to peer at the commandant over his shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s all a little… overkill? It almost comes across as if you are trying too hard to be ‘evil’; to feed into the notion the Autobots already have about us. That we are heartless monsters who can only be satiated by the pain and deaths of others.”

“You did not answer my question.”

Barricade scowled and he turned around fully to face Damus. “What statement are you trying to make with this? Are you trying to send a message to the Autobots? Is this all just to intimidate them and deter them from striking us? Or is it something more personal? Something that runs deeper?”

Damus’s red optics blazed at the shorter Decepticon. “What are you insinuating, Barricade?”

“I think I get it.” A smirk crossed Barricade’s gold faceplate. “The mask, the torture weapons, the try-hard attitude… you’re just trying to impress your idol, aren’t you? You’re trying to impress Megatron.”

“Aren’t we all?” Damus had intended for the response to sound casual but it instead came off as defensive. As he winced to himself, Barricade’s grin broadened.

“It’s all just for show though, isn’t it? You’re trying to compensate for your fragile ego; for your scarred face; for your—”

“Enough,” Damus snarled, his hands rolling into fists. “That’s enough.”

“What’s wrong? Have I touched a nerve circuit? I guess all that armor isn’t that protective after all. Deep down, you’re still that puny little orange glitch-head I saw all those years ago.”

“I said….” Damus took a step forward. “That’s enough.”

“And here we go again with the ‘try-hard’ attitude. You don’t scare me, Glitch. You don’t scare anyone other than naive little Autobots who’ve never met a true—”

Damus thrust out his hand and grabbed Barricade by the neck. Before the smaller Decepticon could struggle against him, the commandant hoisted him off his feet and hurled him at the window. The glass shattered as Barricade crashed through it and plummeted towards the ground below, landing on top of two Decepticon workers that had been hauling a crate full of supplies. Knocked off their feet, the two workers dropped the crate and its contents spilled out, burying Barricade beneath a pile of bolts and screws.  

As he stared out the shattered window to observe the results of his outburst, Damus heard the door open behind him as Snare stepped back inside.

“Is, er, everything all right in here, Commandant?”

“It would appear our friend Barricade has taken a nasty fall,” Damus replied evenly. “Send someone down there to pick him up and take him to the medbay. And to clean up the mess he made.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

Snare wasted no time in taking his leave. After he was gone, Damus remained where he stood, never taking his eyes off Barricade until the other Decepticon was hauled away for repairs, taking him out of sight and out of mind.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XVI, Chapter One

 CHAPTER ONE

Decepticon camp, Verenya

When Megatron stepped out of Killmaster’s pocket dimension and returned to the world of the living, the sight that greeted him was not an inspiring one.

Several Decepticons were laying on the ground, still functioning but badly wounded. Clearly their fight with the Destructons had not ended well after Killmaster had forcibly pulled him out of it, though he was admittedly surprised that the Destructons had been as merciful as they appeared to have been here. His optics scanned the area and he eventually spotted Soundwave and Starscream standing among the injured, watching as Flatline hastily moved between fallen soldiers. He stormed up to his two lieutenants and they both turned to look at him, their faces devoid of emotion.

“What did I miss?” Megatron growled.

“We believe the Destructons have activated the Talisman,” Soundwave replied. “Although there appears to have been a scuffle; the Cybertronian that had accompanied them is currently in the chamber, mortally wounded. Along with him is what I believe is a human techno-organic.”

Megatron vaguely recalled Scorponok having mentioned something about a techno-organic, just before Impactor had attacked him. But after everything that had just happened, he could not bring himself to care much about it.

“Do you know what they’ve done with the Talisman?” he asked instead, though he already knew the answer.

Soundwave seemed to hesitate before answering. “I believe they have infused Earth with Unicron’s essence.”

“You believe?” Megatron pressed him.

“I have detected his presence,” Soundwave clarified. “As his former Herald, I carry a permanent… connection to him, even after having my consciousness transferred into a new body. However, he appears to be dormant as he has not made an effort to contact me.”

“I don’t see why he would,” Starscream snorted. “Seeing as how you turned against him the last time we dealt with him.”

Megatron ignored his Air Commander’s remarks and spared a moment to survey the environment of Verenya; to his surprise, Earth did not seemed to have been altered by the Talisman’s activation. The forests that surrounded Verenya were still there as if they had never been disturbed. Had Soundwave not said anything, he never would have guessed that Unicron had taken over the planet.

“I’m surprised they did not cyber-form the planet,” he mused aloud.

“I will note that the Talisman appears to have taken damage from whatever conflict took place in the chamber,” said Soundwave. “It is possible that certain parts of the process were impeded as a result.”

“That must be why the Destructons have left,” Megatron said grimly. “To find an alternative method to cyber-form the planet.”

“What does it matter?” Starscream asked. “We’ve never cared about this pathetic rock. Let them cyber-form it for all I care!”

“It’s not the act itself that I take issue with, Starscream,” Megatron growled. “It’s the people behind it and their intention for it. I risked everything to imprison the Destructons thousands of years ago and I sacrificed my own life to destroy Unicron. Now, both of those things have returned, threatening to negate all that I have accomplished.”

His hands rolled into fists as his red optics flared.

“I will not let them undo all that I have done. Not after I have been granted yet another lease on life.”

“What do you intend to do, then?” asked Starscream.

“We shall withdraw our forces from Earth and regroup at New Kaon. We will mobilize every ship still in our armada. Then, we will return here… and raze this planet to the ground.”

Starscream’s optics went wide at this. “You… you’re really going to go through with that?”

“Of course.” Megatron grinned wickedly at him. “After all, they can’t cyber-form Earth… if there is no Earth to cyber-form.”

*  *  *

Sari was not sure how much time had passed before she finally stepped out of the Talisman’s chamber. After the Destructons had teleported away, she had just laid there, clutching her head as she struggled to figure out where she went from here. She looked over to the robot that Lord Imperious had stabbed and saw that he was somehow still alive, if barely. He was clutching the open wound in his chest, oil and energon spilling through his fingers. He glanced once at her with his dimly lit optic but said nothing to her. The two of them simply sat there in the chamber, dejected and forlorn.

When Sari heard movement going on outside, following by some sort of warping sound, she managed to muster the courage and energy to pick herself up and fly up towards an opening in the room’s ceiling. When she poked her head out, she was surprised to find the city of Verenya completely deserted and devoid of Decepticon activity. It was almost as if they had never been there in the first place, though the remains of buildings that had once been occupied by people—torn down to make way for Trypticon—indicated otherwise. For whatever reason, the Decepticons had decided to just up and leave; whether they had teleported somewhere else on Earth or away from the planet entirely, she could only begin to speculate.

Deciding to take the risk, she flew out of the opening and emerged fully into Verenya. Just as she was about to survey the rest of the city, a gleam of light caught in her eye and she looked over to see a gold-plated mechanical figure limping towards her. Its optical sensors were blue and weak and the mere act of walking seemed to be taking a toll on the robot. Sari stared at the robot for a moment before finally being able to put a name to the face.

“Hey,” she called out to them. “You’re the other Bumblebee. Goldwheels, right?”

“No,” the robot said weakly. “That’s not who I am. Not truly. My real name—the one I had forgotten for so long—is Centurion.”

“Oh.” Sari paused for a moment, unsure how to respond to that. “So what are you doing here? Where have you been?”

“I was aboard the Predacons’ starship, held prisoner within that spider’s lab. He tore my head open, pricked into my brain module, and brought back memories that I did not realize I even had. I discovered that I was, in fact, never the Autobot known as Bumblebee; I was Centurion, subordinate of Domitius Major and crew member of the Axalon. My compatriots and I resided on Eukaris in secret, away from the warring tribes, and answered only to our master Onyx Prime.”

Sari grimaced at the familiar name. “I’ve heard of him. Not exactly someone I would ever want to answer to.”

“Nonetheless, we obeyed his wishes without question. He entrusted us with a mysterious device—the same that lies in the chamber behind you—and sent us into deep space to keep it out of the hands of Maximals and Predacons alike. Onyx more than anyone understood what it was capable of and dared not dream of what horrors it would unleash should it fall under the wrong hands.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Sari muttered.

“Indeed,” Centurion replied. “We all found out for ourselves when, after being shot down over this planet, the device activated and flung us back to the distant past. The crash knocked us into stasis lock and wiped out memories; when we awoke, we did so with new names and fabricated identities, derived from those we had never met.”

“Did the Talisman do that to you too?”

“In part. Based on my rediscovered memories, a Decepticon by the name of Shockwave had followed us through time and taken to analyzing us to figure out who we were. He then started to rebuild us into bodies that resembled Autobots and other Decepticons that he was familiar with. For what purpose, I cannot even begin to guess; but it was because of his experiments that I knew myself as Bumblebee, Domitius as Optimus Prime, and so forth.”

“Wow,” Sari said. “And I thought my origin story was convoluted. I’m… I’m actually really sorry for you. You basically lived two different lives, one of which was a complete lie.”

Centurion nodded solemnly. “My entire life ever since that fateful crash has been a contrived series of events. All because of that accursed Talisman….”

“Well, it’s screwed up my life as well, as well as everyone else on the planet. Once I get in touch with the Autobots, they can come pick us up and hopefully we can fix what its just done.”

“No need.” Centurion raised his right arm and it altered its shape, assuming the form of a blaster cannon. “I intend to resolve things here and now.”

Sari’s eyes went wide. “What? No! We can’t destroy it now. Maybe we can use it to undo everything. I mean, if it has the ability to do all of this, then maybe—”

Centurion shook his head. “The Talisman will bring nothing but further grief and despair. The Warren opened my eyes to that and I will do what I must to prevent the future it showed me to past.”

“Wait, the Warren spoke to you, too? But it told me—”

Before she could finish, Centurion was already moving past her and heading for the chamber that laid beyond. Acting on instinct, Sari raised her hand and fired a blast of energy from her palm. However, the shot missed as Centurion jumped straight down into the chamber, landing in front of the Talisman and the ailing Primus. As Sari moved to fly after him, Centurion raised his arm cannon at the Talisman and, ignoring Sari’s cries of protest, fired.

The resulting explosion lit up like a miniature star and consumed Sari’s vision with pure white light.

Star Wars: Vergence III, Chapter Five

 CHAPTER FIVE

Ord Talavos

If Remar Almor did not know any better, he would have thought he was in the presence of Malvis himself. A giant, dragon-like member of a species Remar had never seen before, Drakmos the Despised loomed over him, Sharbrook, and the Hoopaloo curator examining the Ryloth Ark they had brought in, large crimson wings folded against his back. His scaly red body was adorned with blue robes and golden armor plating, giving him the appearance of a king. To add to this illusion was his large throne situated at the back of the massive stone chamber they were standing in, as well as rows of armored guards—most of them members of reptilian species such as Barabels and Tiss’shar. For all intents and purposes, Drakmos may as well have been the ruler of Ord Talavos. Of course, there was nothing to suggest that he wasn’t already the ruler of something; Remar knew enough about the various members of the Malvis Cabal to know that each of its leaders ruled their own little faction and did as they pleased so long as their activities did not clash with Malvis’s own goals.

“Well?” Drakmos rumbled, breaking the silence that had pervaded the room for the past several minutes. “Is it legitimate?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.” The avian Hoopaloo removed the eye magnifier piece that had been wedged into his right eye. “I will need to bring this to the Board of Curators to verify it for absolute certain. All of the major telling details check out, at the very least.”

“Splendid!” Drakmos exclaimed, taking on a cheery tone that was dissonant with his fearsome appearance. “I’m sure this piece will make an excellent addition to the Braglon Museum’s collection.”

“Indeed it will,” said the Hoopaloo. “It’s a shame that Doonluck Soota isn’t here to see this for himself. He would have loved to see something like this in person.”

“Indeed,” said Drakmos, though it did not sound like he cared much. “Thank you for your time, curator. I will have my people help you deliver the Ark to the museum.”

The Hoopaloo bowed his head before taking his leave. At the same time, a pair of Tiss'shar guards stepped away from their posts and moved to pick up the Ryloth Ark, carrying it out of the chamber as they followed the Hoopaloo.

Now alone with Drakmos the Despised, Remar and Sharbrook turned their attentions back to the reptilian crime lord as he sat back down on his marble throne. Interlacing his scaly red fingers with each other, he peered down at them with golden eyes.

“You have already been compensated for this little venture,” he rumbled. “However, I would like to offer you another job.”

“Let’s hear it,” Remar said, being mindful to not sound like he was committed to accepting it.

“Recently, one of the Cabal’s leaders—the Dowager Valrisa of Sedratis—met her tragic demise on Ord Mantell,” Drakmos went on. “This has left a vacuum in the Cabal’s structure. Normally, when a Cabal leader passes, their assets are either absorbed into one of the others’ factions or a prospective individual would be promoted to take their place. But in the Dowager’s case, she left behind a will that dictated that all seven of her children had a claim to her assets and that they would need to fight each over it in order to assume full control.”

“And the Cabal is willing to honor this will rather than just dismiss it and hand the assets of their own choosing?” Remar asked.

“Malvis is, yes. I cannot speak as to his reasons; I personally would have dismissed such a frivolous thing and seized the Dowager’s assets for myself.” Drakmos splayed his palms open. “But alas, I am not the one in control. Not yet, at least.”

Drakmos ended this statement with a conspiratorial smile and Remar couldn’t help but wonder what he was getting himself into. Of course, it was not too late to back out of it; he hadn’t actually agreed to anything, after all. However, he could not help but find himself asking: “What do you want us to do then?”

“It’s quite simple, really,” said Drakmos. “I want you to track down and kill all seven of the heirs.”

“Whoa, now.” Remar held up his hands. “We’re not exactly the killing type. I mean, if there’s a bounty on their heads and they’re wanted dead or alive, then that’s one thing. But we’re not assassins.”

Sharbrook growled in agreement. Drakmos’s eyes narrowed and he brought his steepled fingers up to his face again.

“I see,” he mused. “If I were to post a bounty on their heads, would you be willing to do it then?”

Remar shifted uncomfortably. He glanced at Sharbrook who returned with a silent glare.

“Depends on how much it is,” he muttered.

“Would ten million sound like a reasonable price?”

Remar swallowed hard. “For all seven?”

“For each one.”

Sharbrook let out a low mew. Remar looked to the Wookiee and met his partner’s gaze. Sharbrook cocked his head to the side and made another sound, less aggressive than the previous ones he had been making.

“Seventy million is a lot,” Remar said, voicing what they were both thinking. He looked back to Drakmos, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Do you even have that kind of money?”

“More than you can imagine,” Drakmos replied, that grin of his returning.

Remar glanced again at Sharbrook and this time the Wookiee bowed his head in acquiescence. As much as he knew that his partner did not want to end up getting stuck doing the Malvis Cabal’s dirty work, they both knew that this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. They would have been foolish not to take it.

Of course, that very well could have been what Drakmos was counting on….

Knowing it was too late to back out now, Remar turned back to the dragon and said, “You’ve got a deal. Where can we find our first target?”

Drakmos smirked as he leaned back in his throne. “Have you ever been to Naboo?”

*  *  *

“Naboo, huh?” As the Renegade traveled through hyperspace after having departed from Terminus, Kyla Kishanti swiveled around in her pilot’s seat to look at Valrisa. “What’s the name of their senator, again? Darius something?”

“Darius Naberrie,” supplied Ace Ral’kre, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat next to her.

“Naberrie,” Kyla repeated. “Where have I heard that name before?”

“That’s the family Queen Amidala belonged to,” said Bedo, stationed at the Renegade’s comm unit. The Ortolan gave his captain a pointed look. “You do know who Queen Amidala is, right?”

Kyla rolled her eyes. “Yes, Bedo. No one needs to be a history buff to know who Amidala is. In any case, that probably explains why a Serennian noblewoman is getting married to a Naboo politician. If this Valera is anything like her mother, she’s probably only in it for the money and prestige.”

“Must run in the family,” Valrisa muttered, shrugging her shoulders.

Ace took his eyes off the ship’s viewport to glance at her. “You said that the Dowager has seven heirs, correct?”

“That’s what Jool told me.”

“That tracks with what is known about the Charge Matrica," the Bothan said, tugging at a tuft of fur hanging from his chin. "You cannot initiate one without at least seven heirs."

Bedo spun around in his seat to look at them. His beady black eyes were as wide as they could be and his blue skin had taken on a lighter shade. “Why are you guys talking about the Charge Matrica?”

Kyla gave the Ortolan a look. “Weren’t you just listening to us? The Dowager supposedly has seven children who are vying for control over her estate.”

“I got that part,” Bedo said hastily. “But they’re actually calling it the Charge Matrica?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Bedo rubbed his temples with his pudgy fingers. “During the Draggulch Period, the Grumani sector was ruled by a bunch of Sith Lords. Many of them—not all, but most—were all descended from a Sith Lady by the name of Vilia Calimondra.”

Ace shook his head in incredulity. “How do you know so much about all these Sith and Jedi people? I’ve never heard of Calimondra before.”

“My grandfather used to tell me stories. I don’t know how he knew of them, since he was never a Jedi as far as I know. No one in my family was. But he would tell me stories about the Sith Wars and how errant Jedi Knights would defend the Outer Rim after the Republic had lost its power. One of these Jedi was a woman named Kerra Holt who fought against Calimondra and her family in the Grumani sector.”

“Are the Calimondras the only ones to have engaged in a Charge Matrica?” asked Valrisa.

“As far as I know,” said Bedo. “I always thought the term was unique to them. Unless….”

Valrisa frowned. “Unless what?”

The Ortolan shifted uncomfortably, his long ears twitching. “If you don’t mind me asking… do you happen to know much about your… I mean, the Dowager’s family?”

“You mean House Valrisa?”

“No. Her family. The Dowager married into House Valrisa. She had to have come from somewhere else, didn’t she?”

Valrisa’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting she’s descended from Sith?”

Bedo held his hands up. “I’m just putting it out there. Historical records are hazy as to how many—if any—of Vilia Calimondra’s grandchildren survived the Charge Matrica. I mean, it’s not like it makes much of a difference, seeing how she’s dead and everything.”

“Maybe she’s just a twisted woman who likes twisted people and uses terminology associated with those twisted people.” Kyla leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. “I think you’re putting too much thought into it, Bedo. The Dowager and her people don’t strike me as Sith.”

“Neither did Senator Palpatine,” Bedo retorted. “And look how well that worked out for people.”

“Whatever.” Kyla directed her attention back to Valrisa. “So once we get to Naboo, what then? Are you going to confront your sister?”

“I haven’t decided on that part yet,” Valrisa admitted. “At the very least, we should be able to find out where she’s having her wedding. Then maybe I can get an audience with her.”

“Oh, so we’re wedding crashers now?” Bedo remarked. “Great. I’m glad we’re moving up in life.”

“Bedo,” Ace said exasperatedly, “do you really need to comment on everything?”

The Ortolan shrugged as he twitched his long nose. “Somebody has to....”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XVI, Prologue

PROLOGUE

Sari Sumdac was between worlds.

Just moments ago, she had been sitting dejectedly against a wall as the Darksyde, vessel to the Predacons, activated its quantum drive and jumped through the fabric of time and space. As soon as that had happened, things had started to go awry. The lights in the corridor started to flicker, sirens began to ring throughout the ship, and voices cried out in alarm. Before she knew it, she was sitting in near darkness, with the only light coming from the blaring red alarms as they shrieked incessantly. As she clamped her hands over her ears, she saw the arachnid Predacon known as Tarantulas start to skitter around, clutching his head, though she wasn’t sure if it was from pain.

“It’s happening,” he was murmuring to himself. “I should have known it was going to happen. I should have said something. But would they have listened? No, no, they never listen to me. They never would have believed me.”

“What are you talking about?” Sari called out to him, her hands still clamped over her ears. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Tarantulas whirled around to look at her, his yellow visor flashing madly. “We’ve broken it. All of our meddling with time and space as broken the very fabric of the universe! We have invoked the wrath of its guardians! And we are all going to pay the price!”

At that moment, an invisible force began to tear the Darksyde apart. Plates of metal shot out around as the wall in front of her was ripped apart and she was flung out into the realm of quantum space. She quickly sealed her head within her helmet and activated her boot thrusters to gain control of herself as she spun into the void. When she was able to achieve some sort of balance and turn around, she saw that Tarantulas and the other Predacons being thrown out of the Darksyde as well as it was torn apart piece by piece. Before long, none of the ship remained and Sari was left to fly aimlessly through quantum space. All sorts of colors flashed before her eyes and even the act of closing her eyes did nothing to dispel them. Unable to see or hear the Predacons, Sari had no idea where to turn to or if there even was a place to turn to. For all sense and purposes, she was simultaneously everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and she was well and truly alone.

“Are you?”

The voice rang in her head like a gong and her eyes snapped open, though still all she could see were the flashing colors.

“Who’s there?” she called out, though she couldn’t even hear her own voice.

“I am,” the voice responded.

“And you would be…?”

“My true name would not mean anything to you. The people of your universe would know me simply as the Warren.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of that name either,” Sari replied. “My name’s Sari, by the way.”

“I know your name. I know everything. My body is a knot of tunnels that stretch all across space and time, spanning all of reality.”

“Great,” Sari said dryly. “I’m not going to even pretend to understand what you’re going on about. At this point, I don’t even care. Everyone I know is dead and I have nowhere to turn to now.”

“You are from Earth.” It wasn’t a question but rather a statement, though she wasn’t sure why the Warren was making it. 

“Yeah, but its not Earth anymore. Its been… its been wiped out and replaced with—”

“I know what has befallen your planet. I know everything.”

“Then you don’t need to rub it in,” Sari snapped. Behind her mask, she could feel tears begin to trickle down her face. “I just… I just want it to end already. I’m so sick of everything going to crap. You might as well just kill me now. I don’t have anything left to live for.”

“No.” The Warren’s voice rang louder than before, like a drum beating into her head. “Your story is not yet over. There is still more that needs to be done.”

“How can there be more to do? My home is gone! There’s nothing I can do about it!”

“That is where you are wrong.”

Suddenly, the flashing colors were replaced with a great ball of light that began to fill Sari’s field of vision and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. As the ball grew bigger, the intensity of the light subsided and she was able to discern it as some sort of opening, giving her the view of a large robot standing before some sort of device.

“You can still set things right,” the Warren said. “It is not too late to undo things.”

Lowering her hand, Sari gazed upon the scene unfolding before her as the end of the tunnel grew closer. “Is that… is that Earth?” she whispered.

“Yes, just moments before its destruction. You can still stop it, Sari. You can still save the world.”

Sari was not sure what to make of this. It all seemed too good to be true. Surely after everything she had been through, it wouldn’t be that easy to set things right.

Would it?

But as she saw the robot slowly raise his hand towards his device, she decided there was no time to mull things over. Unsheathing her energy blades, she kicked on her boot thrusters again and flung herself through the portal, towards the one-eyed robot. A cry came out from the depths of her throat as she lunged at the robot and brought her blades down on his wrist, cutting through the metal and circuitry. The robot released a cry of anguish as his severed hand fell to the floor and he staggered back, clutching his remaining stump of an arm.

“What in the blazes?!” a voice cried out and Sari’s attention was immediately drawn to a tall, fearsome figure in maroon armor. His arms split into four as his cape-like wings unfurled and his face split open, revealing multiple rows of eyes and teeth.

“Interloper! I will not allow you to undo what we have spent so long to achieve!”

Lord Imperious’ maw began to glow with energy and Sari, realizing she would be no match for the monster, braced herself for the end. That was when Primus, the robot whose hand she had severed, raised his remaining hand at the beast and fired a blast of energy, knocking the Destructon leader back. He then turned his head to look at Sari.

“Go,” he said. “I will hold them off.”

Sari blinked in confusion. “But… I thought you were with them.”

“Not anymore. I’ve realized that I’ve been deceived; that I’ve been misled to bring about that which I have sworn to prevent.” Primus looked back at the Talisman, the device he had been about to activate. “It’s not too late for me to set things right. I can still—”

“You will do no such thing.” Back on his feet, Lord Imperious drew a blade from his arm and skewered it straight through Primus’ chest. The force of the blow was enough to push Primus closer to the Talisman and the tip of the blade, jutting from the other end, scratched against the Talisman. Lord Imperious then retracted the blade and let Primus crumple to the floor as he stepped up to the Talisman and pulled the switch. Sari cried out in alarm but knew that there was no way she could stop the Destructon leader. All she could do was brace herself for the inevitable.

As the Talisman hummed to life, Lord Imperious let out a disgruntled snort as he turned away from the device, walking over to three other monstrous beings. One of them, a snakelike female robot, glanced questioningly between Lord Imperious and the Talisman.

“Is it… is it working?” Medusa asked. “Nothing seems to be happening.”

“The Talisman got damaged in the scuffle,” Lord Imperious muttered. “The infusion will proceed as planned but without the cyber-forming. We will have to use external means to complete the process.”

“And how are we going to do that?” asked a centaur-like robot.

Lord Imperious stopped to look over at Sari, his eyes narrowed. She stared back at him but said and did nothing, still trying to process what had just happened.

“We will have to turn to our benefactors,” Lord Imperious finally said. “They will have the means to do so.”

“What about him?” A brutish giant of a robot gestured at the mortally wounded Primus. “Are we just going to leave him?”

“He’s already done his part,” Lord Imperious said dismissively. “We no longer have any use for him.”

With that and a flash of light, the four Destructons departed from the chamber, leaving Sari alone with the wounded Primus and the damaged Talisman. 

Outside, things proceeded as they had originally. Unicron’s essence was infused with the Earth; Scorponok was remade into his Herald; the Darksyde carrying the Predacons and Sari’s past self jumped back in time to close the loop she had created. In trying to avert the future, she had succeeded only in delaying it. She could only hope that the little time she had bought would be enough to make sure it never came to pass.

ALIGNMENT

Part 4: Waiting Between Worlds