Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

--Outpost One--

    Tarantulas was feeling good about himself. Everything was proceeding as planned.

    Gigatron and his trackers had left to find Ragnarok. Artfire's lobotomy had produced juicy results, and Code Sigma had been sent to all of his operatives. Pretty soon, things were going to start happening.

    Humming to himself as he entered the control center, Tarantulas skittered over to the security console... and stopped dead in his tracks.

    A small light was blinking on one of the consoles.

    Someone had gotten out of their cell.

    He immediately brought up the live feed from the security cameras and sure enough, there he was: Ricochet, unconscious, being carried in the arms of a blue and black mech, rushing to one of the hangars.

    Tarantulas chuckled, in spite of himself. He found it so amusing that they thought they had a chance of escaping. A part of him almost wanted to let them succeed, if only because it would give him a good laugh.

    But there had to be a time and place for everything, simple entertainment included. Cutting off their escape would, in the long term, provide him with plenty of laughs.

    Humming to himself again, Tarantulas pressed a control panel.

*  *  *

    The door fell with a resounding clang. Had the blue mech been a mere step further, it probably would have bisected him. Swearing loudly, he turned around and went back the way he came, praying he would make it to another hangar bay.

    No such luck. Another door cut him off from that destination as well. Without turning around, he could hear all of the other hangar bay doors slamming shut. He was trapped.

    "I knew this was a bad idea," he growled.

    You couldn't possibly have known this would happen, a voice said in his head.

    "You didn't really think Mesothulas wouldn't have cameras here, did you?"

    He's only one mech. The odds of him viewing the one camera we'd be seen on out of the hundreds he has would've been--

    "The freak's got more than one pair of optics. He's like a literal spider. He can see everything!"

    Well, what other options did we have? Rot and die in that god-forsaken cell?

   "Maybe if we didn't have an extra load, we might've actually been able to escape."

    We need Ricochet. He's the only one who can help us.

    "You keep saying that, but you never say--"

    "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

    The mech's oil ran cold. He could hear the sound of skittering legs coming from behind him. Bracing himself, he turned on his heels to see the monstrous form approaching him.

    "I do apologize," the creature once called Mesothulas said. "You seemed to be very deep in conversation. Should I come back later?"

    The mech said nothing, his red optics blazing at the monster.

    Tarantulas looked from him to the offline Ricochet in his arms. His mandibles clicked together. "How touching. I didn't think you still cared for Autobots in your present form."

   "I don't," the mech growled. "My counterpart insisted that we brought him along."

    "Hmm. Then why is it you and not him that is standing before me?"

    "Because all of the ships on this station require Decepticon identification."

    Tarantulas snapped his fingers. "Ah yes! Of course. Good thinking. I had almost forgotten. No one has left this station in sixty years." His many legs then shifted as he leaned forward. "I don't know about you, but I am not all too keen to make an exception today."

    The mech's optics darted around, hoping to find an exit route. Everything to the left and right of him, as well as ahead and behind him, had been closed off, trapping him in this one spot. The only place he hadn't checked yet... was up.

    On the ceiling above him was a grate covering up a ventilation shaft. If he could jump up and grab onto the bars, he could then swing himself and kick Tarantulas in the face, buying him just enough time to tear the cover off and get into the shaft. There was only just one problem....

    We can't leave without him.

    The mech scowled to himself -- his other self. "We can't leave with him either. We have no other choice."

    He is our only hope.

    "There is no hope. There never was." Against all judgment, the mech dropped Ricochet to the floor. "You said so yourself...."

    Please--

    "Sacrifices must be made."

    He then jumped up to grab onto the grate... only to scream as soon as his hand made contact. Electricity coursed through his body, causing his systems to seize up and fail. He then fell down into a heap on the floor, his body joining Ricochet's.

    As he clung onto consciousness, he heard Tarantulas' voice as a pair of arms lifted him up. "I'm sad to say that wasn't nearly as hilarious as I had hoped it would be. Perhaps I should let you open the door next time."

    As he felt himself being carried away by Tarantulas, the mech looked over to see Ricochet still laying there, motionless....

    "Overall, not one of your best escapes, Punch. Or should I call you Counterpunch? I could never get the names strai--"

    Suddenly, a deafening blast of sound hit Tarantulas from behind, causing him to cry out in surprise as he lost his balance and his hold on Counterpunch. As the double agent fell to the floor again, he looked up to see Ricochet on his feet. Jutting out from each of his door wings were speakers from which the sound was emitting.

    "You of all people should know, Mesothulas," Ricochet shouted over the sound waves. "Always do a thorough search when you're handling a Secret Service agent."

    Tarantulas' only response was to scream, his hands clamped over his audio receptors. As Counterpunch slowly got to his feet, Ricochet looked at him, visibly confused by his fellow escapee's Decepticon badge. Rather than question it however, he instead said, "Any chance you can get that door open?"

    "It would take some time," Counterpunch replied via internal radio to be heard over the sound. "I'll have to bypass the control panel manually."

    "Make it quick. I can only keep this up for so long."

    Indeed, Tarantulas was already gathering himself and turning around. Counterpunch sprung over to the door's control panel and tore it open, digging into the mess of wires underneath. Meanwhile, Ricochet increased the volume on his speakers to keep Tarantulas at bay, but it was already clear that the arachnid had gotten over the sonic assault and was starting to make his way over to the two mechs.

    "Sometime today would be nice!" Ricochet called over to Counterpunch.

    "Got it!" the other bot exclaimed just as the door raised up. After turning off his speakers and stowing them away, Ricochet rotated on his heel to rush into the hangar with Counterpunch.

    It took a moment -- maybe more -- for Ricochet to realize something was off. When he did, he skidded to a halt, with Counterpunch shortly following suit.

    There was no hangar. It was just a room with a window looking out into space. There were no ships to be seen. 

    Their freedom had been an illusion.

    Behind them, Tarantulas was laughing. Hard. Hand on his midsection, keeling over as his cackling echoed throughout the station.

    "Oh, that was so worth it!" he said in between laughs. "I knew it would be funny but not this... this...." His feet were off the floor now, suspended only by his extra appendages as he bent his head back and belted a shrill cackle. "Too good! Too good! Oh, these are the moments worth living for!"

    He went on guffawing for a few more minutes before calming down to a titter. Once he had his composure back, he stepped over to the two bots, who were both staring at him with vacant expressions.

    "Of course, I could just wipe your memories and have you do it all over again -- I've been doing that with Punch for years now." Two appendages extended from Tarantulas and seized the mechs in a death grip. "But it just wouldn't have the same effect, I don't think. It pains me to say it...."

    The two mechs both felt the appendages inject them with some venom, causing them to slip into stasis.

    "But I think play time is over."

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Seven

It's about that tiiiime! Back at it again with another legit food review! Let's peep this out.

CHAPTER SEVEN

--Caminus--

    "Your move."

    Ariel narrowed her optics as she studied the pieces of the board laid out before her. Skids sat across from her, arms folded over his chest and he waited patiently for her to act.

    Her hand started to move towards the Quarg piece but then stopped, biting her lip as she thought better of it. After a moment of contemplation, she instead moved the Vig, immediately glancing up at Skids expectantly. The Autobot nodded approvingly and Ariel grinned triumphantly.

    The two of them continued their game of Fullstasis, all while Rapid Run watched them from where she stood, leaning against the door-frame. She couldn't help but smile behind her mouthplate, finding Ariel's innocence and interaction with Skids endearing. She could hardly bring herself to say a word or otherwise make her presence known, lest she break the concentration of either player.

    Eventually, Ariel executed a move with her Korg piece which made Skids throw his arms up in the air. "Ah! I've been vanquished!"

    Ariel's optics went wide. "I... I won?"

    "Yes! You have foiled my plans! I am defeated!"

    Ariel jumped out of her seat and thrust her arms up in the air. "Yes! I won! I won!"

    Skids chuckled as he started to put the game board and its pieces away. "You sure did. Not bad for a first game."

    "She sure seemed to pick up on it fast," Rapid Run said, stepping into the ship. "Can't say I've seen such a quick learner."

    Skids snorted. "Eh, she takes after me in that respect."

    "Oh." Rapid Run tilted her head. "Is she your sparkling?"

    "What? No. What gave you that--" Skids stopped himself, shaking his head. "That's not what I meant. I meant she was like me in that we both learn skills quickly. It's just a trait we have in common. Nothing... nothing like that."

    There was a short, awkward silence as Skids finished putting away the Fullstasis game and Ariel continued reveling in her victory. Then, Rapid Run got a call on her comm and she answered it.

    "Rapid Run here." She listened to the call for a minute; when she answered, she glanced at Skids. "Are you sure? His mods aren't removable. Afterburner wouldn't--" She was cut off by the caller and she made a disgruntled sound. "Okay, okay. But if he gets mad... all right. Yes, I understand. Okay. We'll be there asap."

    She then ended the call and looked at Skids. "You're in luck. Overcast said it's okay for you to enter the Citadel-- provided I stay with you at all times."

    "Why the change in mind?" Skids asked.

    "Apparently your captain really needs your guns -- even if just to wave them around."

    "Did he say why?"

    "Nope. Although I did hear a lot of screaming."

    Skids frowned as he stood up. "Let's go. Now."

*  *  *

    Overcast winced as he readjusted his audio sensors, which had been offset by Rodimus' screaming. "If you're quite done," the white and blue Camien muttered. "Perhaps now we can think rationally instead of--"

    Rodimus grabbed Overcast by the shoulders and started shaking him. "Are you mad? Are you slag-licking mad?"

    "Language," Ultra Magnus rumbled.

    Rodimus ignored him, still staring at Overcast as if he had sprouted a new head. "Pharma. The Pharma. Blue, white, and red with wings. Right? Right?"

    "I was told he was a revered medic on Cybertron," Overcast said carefully, glancing at Velocity.

    Rodimus released him and let out a harsh, sharp laugh. "Ha! Pharma. Revered. Good thing Ratchet isn't around to hear that."

    Overcast exchanged looks with Velocity, who shared his bafflement on her face. "Am I missing something important here?"

    "Yes. Yes, you are." Rodimus patted Overcast on the shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look. "Buddy, Pharma is a nutcase. A real screwhead. A true psychopath. A Decepticon without the badge."

    "What? Are you serious? Are you for real?" Overcast looked up at Ultra Magnus. "He's not for real, is he? Please tell me--"

    "He is," Magnus said. "Pharma is a convicted murderer, having killed his own patients to hold up a bargain with the Decepticons."

    At this, Velocity gasped and Overcast bowed his head. "Is that right?" the latter muttered. "Well, in that case... we should probably do something about that. I'll call Afterburner and--"

    "Wait," Rodimus interjected. "If it's not too much trouble... do you think you can call Rapid Run to bring Skids? I know about your rules on guns, but...."

    "Why do you need him?" Overcast asked.

    "I just feel safer with him around. Especially with a bot like Pharma running around."

    Overcast considered for a moment before nodding. "All right. I'll give her the go ahead. I'll just need to sort things out with Afterburner later."

    While Overcast went to make the call, the door to the medbay opened and two mechs -- one being Rung -- walked in.

    "I'm here," the other mech said. "Where is the patient?"

    "In stasis," Velocity said. "Roadmaster, uh, put him to sleep."

    "Ah." The spindly white and blue mech looked up at the bulky femme standing by Skyfall. "He's probably going to be out for a while then--"

    Suddenly, Skyfall shot up from his berth and let out a scream. Rodimus screamed as well, as did Velocity and Roadmaster. The latter winded up to punch him again but was stopped by Ultra Magnus.

    "Wait! He hasn't done anything yet! We should keep him awake so we can--"

    At that moment, however, Skyfall did do something. Once he had stopped screaming, the colors of his armor plating started to change: crimson became black and white red. His visor and mouthplate both retracted, revealing a golden face with red optics. To top off his already fearsome new look, his Autobot insignia faded away and was replaced by a Decepticon one.

    As Rodimus and the others all stared at him slack-jawed, Skyfall looked from one bot to the other, his face at work trying to form a reaction.

    "Where... am I?" he muttered, rubbing his head. "Where's Kick-Off and Over-Run?" He then looked down at himself, causing him to look even more confused. "And why am I... oh no."

    He moved to get off of his berth but was pushed back down roughly by Ultra Magnus, who scowled. "You have the right to remain silent," the larger Autobot growled. "And completely still."

    "No, wait," Skyfall protested. "You don't understand. I--"

    "Overcast, I'd make a few more calls if I were you," Rodimus called back to the Camien. "I'd say we have a larger situation on our hands...."

*  *  *

    "Augh, this music." Nightbeat's hands fell over his audio sensors as the repetitive techno tracks played loudly all across the Grand Hall, mechs and femmes dancing to it. "I'd rather listen to Swerve all day instead of this garbage."

    "Hey, man, don't diss the classics!" piped a blue and red Camien retrieving fuel from the engex distillery next to him. "Rosanna's one of the greatest singers of all time!"

    "I don't care," Nightbeat said, trying to keep his voice even. "I don't like it. I want it to stop."

    The Camien sneered at him. "You're all the more free to leave the room then. The procession isn't for another two hours."

    As the irritable mech walked away with his drink, Nightbeat mulled over his options. He could leave -- he wanted to leave -- but two things stopped him from doing so: one was the fact that he knew nowhere else to go to, and the other being he didn't want to leave without telling anyone -- and everyone else was presently preoccupied.

    Swerve was running a bar (big surprise), Nautica was fraternizing, Chromedome and Rewind were dancing, Tailgate and Glyph were cuddling, Cyclonus and Whirl were sulking (not together, of course), Getaway was flirting, Riptide was doing nothing of note, and spark knew where Rung, Ratchet, and Windblade had gotten to.

    Although he wouldn't consider himself friends with anyone here, he just couldn't bring himself to abandon them. If he were to wander off and get into trouble, who would know what had befallen him?

    Forcing himself to grin and bear the godawful music, Nightbeat reached over to fetch some engex....

    And then the music stopped.

    And then the lights went out.

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Miserable Woe, Part II

MISERABLE WOE, PART II

--Tatooine--

    Talsai Van coughed out the sand still in his mouth as he got to his feet. He looked up with baleful eyes at the retreating Meson Martinet, which was continuing to its original destination. Although he knew it would do no good, he hurled every last swear word he knew at the ship. Even if the crew had heard him, it would do nothing to make them change their minds.

    Once he had used up his colorful vocabulary, he finished off with a frustrated yell. Here he was now, stranded in the middle of the Dune Sea with only a blaster and the clothes on his back. He had no idea where or in what direction the nearest town was, and it would only be a matter of time before some herd of Tusken Raiders came across him.

    So this was it then. This was how General Merlok would meet his end. This was how Baron Salvan Tai would die. As the galaxy's greatest disgrace.

    The distant sound of a moving vehicle instantly raised the Togruta's low hopes. He turned around to see a large, rectangular shape rising from over a sand hill, treading slowly but surely in his direction.

    He grimaced. Jawas. Although he was not very fond of the little creatures that roamed the Dune Sea, they were his best bet in getting out of the fix he was in.

    Calling out to the sandcrawler, he waved the vehicle over to his position. The vehicle soon came to a stop and a ramp lowered on its starboard. A hooded Jawa stepped down from it and began to approach Talsai, yellow eyes glowing from the shadow of its hood.

    Just as Talsai realized he did not know how to speak Jawaese, the Jawa stopped before him and said, "Bazi batza bazic?"

    Talsai blinked. He couldn't decide what was more surprising: a Jawa speaking fluently in Bocce, or it asking him if he spoke Basic.

    Tentatively, he answered, "Yes."

    Nodding, the Jawa spoke in perfect Basic. "I take it you're lost?"

    Taken aback by the presence of a talking Jawa, Talsai stammered, "I... yes. Yes, I am. My crewmates dumped me out here."

    "Did they now?" the Jawa replied. "Must have had a good reason."

    "Depends on who you ask," Talsai murmured, rubbing the back of his head. "Look, if it's not too much trouble, I just need you to take me to the closest spaceport."

    "Well, that would be Mos Eisley, but I'm currently headed for Anchorhead. If you don't mind making the trip, I can drop you off there."

    "Great. I can't thank you enough. I'll make sure to pay you back once we're--"

    The Jawa shook his head. "No need. Anything for an old friend."

    Talsai stared at the Jawa in bemusement as the latter headed back for the sandcrawler. "'Old friend...?'"

    "Oh, and you can lose the Togruta disguise," the scavenger called back. "I already know who you are, Merlok."

    Talsai's face instantly lost all color. Oh, kark....

*  *  *

    "Galus, they're here."

    The ghoul-faced Givin frowned as he looked over at Galus Freetaa, fast asleep on his throne. Most of his harem had also fallen asleep, save for a human woman. Approaching her, the Givin said, "Excuse me, but could you please awaken our master?"

    The woman turned to the sleeping Galus and tugged on his sleeve. With a snort the Twi'lek awoke and he lifted his head up to stare at the Givin.

    "Nas?" Galus yawned as he sat up. "This had better be worth interrupting my nap."

    "They're here," Nasoth Alarin said.

    Galus' eyes went wide and he immediately jumped down from his throne. "They are? How long have they been here?"

    "Their ship just landed on the perimeter. They should be here right about...."

    As if on cue, a party of six entered the throne room, led by a crimson-clad man wearing a Kaleesh-styled mask. The infamous pirate of the Western Reaches strode up to Galus and bowed to the Twi'lek in a theatrical manner.

    "Fair tidings to you, Galus Freetaa," said Sidon Ithano. "I trust you are doing well?"

    Galus beamed at him. "Even more so now that you're here, Ithano. Do you have the...?"

    "Indeed I do. Quiggold?" Sidon snapped his fingers and his Gabdorin first mate waddled forward, handing him the totem. At the same time, Galus gestured Nasoth over.

    "Make sure it's authentic," the Twi'lek said to the Givin. "We wouldn't want to upset our friend Malvis."

    "Come now, Galus," Sidon said as he gave Nasoth the artifact. "Would I ever deceive you?"

    "I may trust you, Ithano, but it doesn't hurt to be careful. After all, you could have easily been tricked by the Hutts as well."

    Sidon grunted as he crossed his arms. "After all the trouble we went through getting it, I would hope that it's the real deal."

    Placing a magnifier over his right eye, Nasoth held up the totem and studied it carefully, examining every last line carved into the small, eye-bearing triangular object. After a long, pressing moment, the Givin finally lowered the magnifier.

    "It is genuine."

    Galus threw his hands up to the ceiling. "Bless Daesha's Grail! I can almost taste Malvis' reward!" Spinning on his heel, he said to an aide, "Summon Valrisa. Tell her we have the--"

    "No need." Appearing in the entrance to the throne room, Valrisa leaned against the wall. "I'm glad you were able to provide in time, Freetaa."

    Galus gawked at the masked woman, his mouth struggling to form sentences. "I -- what -- how long have you been here?!"

    "Since I last spoke with you," Valrisa replied. "I've never actually left the palace; it's a long way back to Anchorhead and I've only got so much fuel left in my speeder."

    "You mean you've been here this whole time?" Galus exclaimed, sounding increasingly agitated. "In my palace?! Unsupervised?!"

    "Yeah." Valrisa strode down casually into the chamber and walked up to Nasoth, taking the totem from his bony white hands. "Don't worry, my girlfriend's got her new toy to keep herself busy. She shouldn't mind being kept waiting. Malvis will contact you shortly to deliver your reward."

    With that, she turned on her heel and left the chamber. Galus continued to stare after her, mouth hanging open. Once Valrisa was out of sight and mind, Sidon turned back to the Twi'lek.

   "So... speaking of reward...."

*  *  *

    "One hundred and forty-eight!"

    The worrt squealed as the blaster bolt sent it flying a dozen miles. Another worrt poked its head out of its hole and earned itself a shot as well.

    "One hundred and forty-nine!"

    Typha Lorr chewed on her bottom lip as she scouted the area for another target. She just needed one more to beat her record. One more to become the best (and only) worrt sniper in the galaxy.

    Seven miles ahead, a worrt cautiously emerged from its hole to check on its companions. A pearl white grin flashed from Typha's azure face as she lined up her shot.

    The speeder she was in shook just as she pulled the trigger. The blaster bolt fired from the rifle and zipped over the worrt's head, which immediately retreated back into its hole.

    Swearing up a storm, Typha turned around to see Valrisa situating herself in the driver's seat. The masked woman spared her a glance as she buckled herself in.

    "Having fun?" she said dryly.

    Typha's gold eyes flared with anger. "You made me miss my shot!"

    Valrisa tilted her head. "And?"

    "I was on a winning streak! I was about to beat my own record!"

    "Too bad." Valrisa started up the speeder before looking back at her infuriated Pantoran partner. "You know, you're cute when you're mad."

    Typha scowled as she put her rifle away, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. "Shut up," she muttered.

    Valrisa simply chuckled as she accelerated the speeder in the direction of Anchorhead.

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Miserable Woe, Part I

Will be taking a break from Regenerated for a while. In the meantime, here's a little Star Wars story I wrote to tie up a few loose ends from Endgame.

MISERABLE WOE: PART I

--Teth--

    "Okay, Reeg. I'm in position."

    Trying to keep his breathing steady, Talsai Van looked over his shoulder nervously. The Hutt's goons would be here any minute now and he would be dead in seconds. He prayed that the others would get here in time.

    "Copy that," came Reeg's response. "Bringing her in now."

    Over the Tethan Mountains, Talsai could see the Meson Martinet flying towards his location. In the canopy of its top turret he could spot Reveth manning the gun, ready to blast any opposition that came their way.

    Or me, Talsai thought. He knew Reveth didn't care for him that much and would probably blast him and take his prize if the captain weren't there to stop her.

    The distant rumbling laugh of a Hutt told him that his pursuers were catching up to him now. He dared not to look behind him. He refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing his fear.

    The Meson Martinet was getting closer. In a minute it would be close enough for him to jump on and escape.

    The laughter was getting louder. Any minute now its owner would be right behind him, flanked by dozens of his thugs.

    He stared at the approaching freighter, his forehead beginning to precipitate. Come on, come on--

    "End of the line, Togruta," a booming voice came from behind. "Give it up."

    Talsai swore under his breath. Kark.

    Turning on his heel, the red-skinned Togruta came face-to-face with a massive Hutt clad in armor, accompanied by an assortment of Weequays, Gamorreans, Klatooinians, and other brutish thugs. The upper half of his face concealed by a visor, the folds of the Hutt's front creased as it formed a slimy grin.

    "I would commend you for making it this far," Vondara Ramesh said. "But to be honest, I actually allowed you get this far. Thought it would be more amusing."

    "Yeah right," Talsai retorted, trying to keep up a brave facade. "You're just saying that because you don't want to admit to your slowness"

    "Slow?" Vondara guffawed as he drew a massive vibroax. "The only thing that shall be slow will be your death."

    The sound of engines told Talsai that the Meson Martinet was right behind him. Suddenly feeling courageous, the Togruta smiled at the Hutt.

    "Tell you what: how about we time how long it takes my friends to blast you away and then see if you can do better."

    Vondara chortled. "Oh, you truly are foolish if you think I didn't come prepared for them. Rorjak?"

    One of the pug-nosed Klatooinians snorted as they raised a small device and pressed a button. Behind Vondara and his posse, the B'omarr Monastery that was the Hutt's domain burst into flames.

    Vondara cried out in shock and rage as he and his goons turned towards the unexpected explosion. Taking advantage of their distraction, Talsai turned towards the Meson Martinet and saw the ship hovering before him, its ramp lowered. Standing on the ramp was Reeg Brosna, who waved Talsai over. The Togruta did not waste any time in jumping onto the ship.

    As soon as Talsai's feet hit the deck, a Gamorrean suddenly broke away from the rest of Vondara's gang and started running towards the ship. Alarmed, Talsai moved to close the ramp only for Reeg to grab his hand. Talsai looked at the anvil-headed Arcona as if he had lost his mind.

    "What are you doing? That pig is going to--"

    Before he could finish, the Gamorrean jumped onto the ramp and landed with a loud thud, causing the freighter to rock slightly. He shot a glare at Talsai before brushing past him and Reeg. The latter closed the ramp before shouting towards the cockpit.

    "Get us out of here, Pen!"

    As the ship turned away from a very angry Vondara, the Hutt's goons fired at the freighter, only to be blasted away by Reveth with the turret. In seconds, the Meson Martinet was blasting off towards the Tethan sky.

    On board the pirate vessel, Talsai followed Reeg back to the helm, wearing a befuddled expression all the way. In the cockpit, they found the Ishi Tib Pendewqell piloting the ship, while the Gamorrean stood in the corner with his large arms crossed. Walking past the porcine brute, Reeg slapped him on the shoulder.

    "Good work, Squeaky. That one is going in the book." The Gamorrean simply made non-committing snort.

    Talsai looked quizzically between the two. "I don't understand," he murmured.

    "We don't actually have a book," Reeg said. "That's just an expression we use."

    "No, no. I mean...." Talsai gestured at the Gamorrean. "What's he doing here? Isn't he one of Vondara's goons?"

    Reeg grinned. "Oh, that's right. You're new. You've never met Squeaky before." He turned to the Gamorrean and said, "Squeaky, this is Talsai Van, our newest recruit. The captain hired him last year."

    Squeaky met Talsai's gaze momentarily before grunting in dismissal. The Togruta stared at him before turning back to Reeg.

    "I still don't understand. How long has he been with Vondara?"

    "About a year. We dropped him off on Teth just before coming to Takodana. We needed to give him enough time to make himself blend in before setting up the explosives and rewiring their defense systems."

    Talsai raised his eyebrows. "A Gamorrean did all of that?"

    "Yeah. What, you thought we left him there to twiddle his thumbs or something?"

    Before the Togruta could respond, the two were interrupted by the arrival of a crimson-clad figure. Both Talsai and Reeg stepped aside as Sidon Ithano entered the cockpit, followed closely by his stout, peg-legged first mate Quggold. Sidon walked past without a word while Quiggold stopped and looked up at Talsai.

    "You have it?" the hooded Gabdorin grunted.

    Talsai blinked. "Huh? Oh, yeah." He reached into his travel pouch and procured the totem he had taken from the Monastery. Quiggold took it before wandering over to the captain's side.

    Sidon Ithano stood by the pilot seat, his arm resting behind Pendewqell's star-shaped head. The Crimson Corsair watched silently as purple sky turned into black space. Once the Ishi Tib had put in the coordinates for their next destination and made the jump to hyperspace, Sidon turned around and leaned against the chair, crossing his arms as he stared at Talsai.

    "I'm not a very humorous man, Talsai Van."

    The Togruta swallowed, feeling his forehead sweat again. "Beg your pardon?"

    "Now I can take a joke, don't get me wrong. But only if it's funny." Sidon pointed a thumb at Squeaky. "What he just did to Vondara and his precious palace? That was funny. That made me laugh. But you?" He pointed at Talsai now. "You are not funny. I am not laughing."

    "I'm sorry, captain, but I really have no idea what you're--"

    "Yes you do. Your face says it all." Stepping away from the chair, Sidon stormed up to the Togruta and stood mere centimeters from his face. Although he could not see the Blood Buccaneer's eyes through his red plasteel mask, Talsai could still feel the pirate's cold gaze.

    "Do you want to say it to everyone?" Sidon asked, dangerously quiet. "Or should I?"

    The Togruta said nothing, unable to muster the courage to speak.

    Turning away from him, the captain said to the others, "Talsai Van died eight years ago at the hands of Black Sun. Unless he could have somehow survived being thrown into the lava pits of Mustafar, then this man is not Talsai Van. He's a two-faced swine who thinks impersonating dead people is funny."

    He looked back at the Togruta. "Do I have that right? Tell me if I missed anything."

    Talsai inhaled slowly as he glanced at the crewmembers. Reeg looked disappointed at him while Squeaky and Quiggold merely glowered. Pendewqell kept his back turned, focusing on piloting the ship.

    Letting his breath out, Talsai cast his gaze to the ground. "You left out the fact that I'm the last surviving general of the Glorian Empire."

--Tatooine--

    The giant door creaked loudly as it slowly rose from the ground. The cloaked masked figure waited patiently as it completed its ascent before stepping into the dark entryway.

    After getting past the Gamorrean guards, the figure followed the sound of music and laughter down a winding maze of corridors. Eventually they reached the palace's throne room, which was filled wall to wall with sentient beings of all sorts of shapes and sizes, all laughing and talking amongst themselves.

    Pushing past a pair of Phindians, the cloaked figure came face to face with their person of interest. Stretched upon a throne of cushions and surrounded by slave girls, a white-skinned Twi'lek male happily dropped a bunch of grapes into his mouth. Behind him, two Weequays waved palm leaves over the Twi'lek. Both of them, as well as the slaves, looked utterly miserable with themselves.

    The visitor stood before the Twi'lek, waiting for him to notice their presence. When he failed to do so, the masked figure turned their eyes to a Falleen slave. The green-skinned woman met their gaze before tugging on the Twi'lek's sleeve. The head-tailed alien raised his head to see his guest.

    "Ah!" he exclaimed, grinning as he sat up. "Valrisa! It's been too long."

    "Dispense with the pleasantries, Galus," Valrisa said coldly, folding her arms over her chest. "You know why I'm here."

    Galus' smile wavered slightly but he managed to maintain an upbeat facade. "Yes, of course! Of course I do. Why else would you be here? Fun and games? Ha ha!"

    Valrisa did not laugh. "The totem, Galus. Where is it?"

    The Twi'lek's eyes darted to a group of mercenaries standing in the alcoves of the chamber. They met his gaze with a nod before slowly moving to surround Valrisa. Galus returned his eyes to the masked woman, who did not show any indication of having witnessed the exchange.

    "It's on the way," Galus said firmly.

    "You said it would be here by dusk," Valrisa said darkly.

    "I did. I never specified when--"

    "It is unwise to keep Malvis waiting, Galus Freetaa. Those who fail to fulfill their end of the bargain pay the price."

    Galus' smile was gone now, replaced with a dark look. "It will be here. Just give them a few more hours."

    Valrisa stared at him for a long moment, eyes glaring from the spectacles of her mask. Finally, she said, "Midnight. You have until midnight."

    Galus let out his breath and nodded, smirking. "Deal. See you then."

    Nodding curtly, Valrisa turned on her heel and gestured with her hand. All at once the mercenaries started gagging, clawing at the toxic darts jutting from their throats. By the time she had left the chamber, their dead bodies already littered the floor.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

--Caminus--

    A golden statue of Beta, the first Mistress of Flame, was the centerpiece of the aptly-named Beta Memorial. At her feet rested a plaque that bore all the names of past Mistresses, as well as the dates of their tenure. Carved into the bottom of the plaque were the words, "Viva la Solus" -- a dedication to the ancient Prime who had founded the colony of Caminus thousands of years ago.

    Rung was drawn to the statue not for its beauty -- although it was certainly stunning -- but for its posture. While statues of renowned figures on Cybertron had them standing proudly, this statue had Beta crouched down and looking at the plaque, her hands gripping the edges. It was certainly a unique design, one which no doubt had some sort of hidden meaning.

    Lost in wonder, Rung almost hadn't noticed the white and blue mech also staring at the statue until they turned to regard him.

    "Ever the artist, that Bricolo."

    Rung bit his lip, pretending to not recognize the voice. "He sculpted this, did he?"

    "At Beta's request, yes. He did similar sculptures for some of the tribe leaders -- such as the Prima statue that used to reside in the Grand Imperium."

    "Ah. Yes, I can see his influence -- it's all in the facial features... or lack thereof." Rung then turned to look at the other mech, his eyebrows furrowing in consternation. "So. You're still alive."

    "You sound surprised," Froid replied, casually examining his servos.

    "I thought you had died," Rung said. "The last time I saw you was over two centuries ago, when you left for a psyche examination at Garrus-6. High Command lost contact with your ship and the staff at Garrus-6 said you never arrived."

    "Hm. Yes, you can thank the Decepticons for that. I can see how one would be unable to survive a Heavy Brigade assault... but I managed. As did my patient."

    Rung tilted his head. "Patient."

    "Yes, he's been under my care since that event -- although I've allowed him to interact with these Camiens on his own." Froid tapped the side of his head. "I've still got my optics on him, though. So far he's been fine."

    Still trying to wrap his processor around all this, Rung shifted his gaze to a pair of beads hanging from Froid's neck. "Are those Primal Beads? I thought you were an atheist."

    Froid wagged a finger in Rung's face. "Now, now. Time and place for everything. I want to hear a little from you now, Rung. What have you been up to recently?"

    Before Rung could answer, Froid's comm suddenly started to beep. He answered it, raising his wrist to his speaker mouth.

    "Froid, here. Yes.... Uh-huh.... Oh.... I see. Right, of course. I'll be right over."

   "What is it?" Rung asked as Froid ended the call.

    "Trouble in the medibay. Apparently one of the patients just threw a major fit."

*  *  *

    "Is everything all right in here, Velocity?" Overcast asked as he entered the medibay with Rodimus and Ultra Magnus close behind. "I got your call, but I was in the middle of speaking with Afterburner and you know how he is with interruptions...."

    An aqua-green femme emerged from one of the wards, a disquieted look on her face. "Oh, everything's fine. Just nearly got killed is all."

    "I thought I heard screaming and swearing when you called me," Overcast muttered. "So what happened? Did a patient wake up berserked?"

    "Something like that." Velocity beckoned the three mechs into the ward and they walked in to find an unconscious red mech laying on a berth, a large dent in his faceplate. The hulking blue femme standing watch over him was no doubt to thank for that.

    Both Rodimus and Ultra Magnus looked upon the patient with shocked expressions. "Skyfall?" Rodimus blurted. "What's he doing here?"

    Velocity raised an optic at him. "You know this bot?"

    "He's an Autobot-- Cybertronian, like us," Ultra Magnus said. "He used to work at Kimia before being exposed for illicit business. He was then transferred to Garrus-9 to work as a prison guard, until it was overrun by Decepticons."

    "Skids told me he ran into him and two others at Garrus-16," Rodimus said. "He never saw them again after it got blown up."

    "Well, we picked up him at Talrus, though he had been unconscious at the time," Velocity said. "I don't know what caused him to wake him up now, but I don't think I want him to again."

    "How exactly did he react?" Magnus asked. "Did he actually attack you or simply acted violently in general?"

    "Try a bit of both. He seemed to be under the impression I was torturing him or something." Velocity then folded her arms and frowned. "Then again, he also called me a 'filthy Autobot.'"

    At this, Rodimus and Magnus both exchanged concerned looks.

    "In that case," the former said, "we'd better get Ratchet. This calls for someone with real medical expertise."

    "Oh, there's no need for that," Overcast said. "Firestar's crew already picked up a highly qualified medic. He was the one who confirmed Thunderclash's passing for us."

    "Oh. What's his name?" Rodimus asked.

    "Probably one you know better than I do, since he's Cybertronian like you. He calls himself Pharma."

--Outpost One--

    "Hey. Hey."

    Ricochet groaned as he strained to lift his head up from the steel cold floor. The room was dark -- and his nightlights weren't functioning for some reason -- making it difficult for him to see the other bot in the cell with him, save for their blue optics.

    "If you can understand me, flash your headlights."

    Ricochet did as told. The other bot let out a relieved sigh.

    "Good. About time I finally spoke with someone who still had their processor running properly. Did you tell him anything?"

    "Huh?" Ricochet replied.

    "Mesothulas. Did you give him any intel?"

    "What does it matter to you? How do you even know Mesothulas?"

    "Same way you do. I used to work with him."

    At this, Ricochet straightened up. "Wait. You're with the Secret Service?"

    There was a long pause before the other mech's response. "Yes. Yes, I am."

    "How long have you been here? Did Prowl send you to capture Mesothulas as well."

    "Tell you what," the other bot said. "Help me escape, and I'll give you the answers you need."

    "Do you have a plan?" Ricochet asked.

    "Yes. And it's a heck of a one. All I need you to do is to put yourself into stasis lock."

    Ricochet frowned. "How do I know I can trust you with my unconscious body?"

    "Believe me, the worst things I could do to you aren't even half as bad as what Mesothulas could do."

    "Yeah? Why should I buy that?"

    "Look down."

    Ricochet did so and cast his gaze to the floor. He immediately screamed. Staring straight at him, imbedded into the cell floor, was the lifeless face of a Cybertronian. He took a step back, only to scream at another face, then another. Then another one. The floor was made up of nothing but faces.

    Ricochet put a hand over his mouth, switching off his optics to be rid of the horrific imagery. For once, he was grateful Artfire wasn't here; the big white lug would be teasing him right now.

    Artfire.... Turning his optics back on, Ricochet looked back at the other mech, who was looking back at him patiently.

    "My partner," Ricochet said. "We can't leave without him."

    "Do you know where he is?"

    Ricochet blinked. "No...."

    "Then I'm sorry, but he's as good as dead. Mesothulas rarely leaves his prisoners in... good condition. I don't know why he spared you -- or me, for that matter -- but it's something we should take advantage of. Sooner rather than later."

    Ricochet clenched his fist, his face contorting into a rictus of anger. "I am not going anywhere without him."

    "You're not going anywhere but the Pit if we don't act now. Mesothulas will be back here any minute now to do God knows what to you. And I highly doubt you're going to survive a second encounter with him."

    "So you're saying I should just abandon him?" Ricochet snapped. "That I should just let Mesothulas do as he pleases to him?"

    "Sometimes, sacrifices must be made," the other bot said, and Ricochet could tell he was starting to walk towards him. "If your positions were reversed, would you not want him to do the same?"

    Ricochet opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by a hand falling on his neck, while something else pressed against his helmet.

    "I'm sorry I have to do this, but trust me when I say it's for both of our benefits."

    Ricochet then felt a pulse and everything went dark.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

--Caminus, Grand Hall--

    "I think it's going to be a while before we get to meet the Mistress of Flame."

    "And the Great Detective solves yet another elusive mystery," Whirl said, tapping his head against the wall. He had already had had enough of all the bots pouring into the Grand Hall, they're bright colors and curvy frames being too much for his single optic. "I wonder what mystery he'll solve next? The location of Optimus Prime's trailer? The true colors of Rumble and Frenzy? The actual spelling of--"

    "Whirl, we get it," Nautica snapped, leaning against the wall with her left foot propped against it. "You don't want to be here. Don't we all. Just keep your mouth shut and maybe--"

    "What did you just say to me?!" Whirl roared, spinning around to get into Nautica's face. "Did you just tell me to shut my mouth? Huh?" He gestured to his face, which only bore an eye; no mouth to speak of whatsoever. "Those are fighting words, pal. You wanna pick a fight with me?"

    "People are starting to stare," Nightbeat muttered, seeing the numerous faces turned towards them. "You two might wanna break it off. Or, better yet, stand on complete opposite sides of the room."

    Whirl and Nautica remained glaring at each other for a moment until the former finally backed off and strode away from the other two, vanishing into the growing crowd of Camiens. Once he was gone, Nautica allowed her frame to relax.

    "I'm surprise he actually listened to you," she murmured. "Even Ultra Magnus can't always get him to obey."

    "I suppose it just depends on the mood, he's in," Nightbeat said. 

    He then stepped aside as a large, blue and white Camien came over and set down an engex distillery unit next to him. Once she had hooked it up and got it running, the Camien poured a glass and handed it to him. Nightbeat shook his head as he waved a dismissive hand.

    "Thanks, but I'm not--"

    "Oi, it's not fer you, mate!" the femme snapped. "I was givin' it to Nautica. Yer just in the way."

    Nautica reached over and took the glass. "Thank you, Starfield. Say, you haven't seen Overcast anywhere, have you? He left to speak with someone after getting the news and I haven't seen him since."

    "Nay, I'm afraid I haven't," Starfield replied. "You might try asking Skystriker. He's...." Her speech suddenly trailing off, Starfield tilted her head at something out of Nautica's line of sight. "Oh. Look who it is."

    Nautica frowned, not turning around. "Who?" she asked quietly.

    "Turn your blasted noggin and see fer yourself," Starfield grunted, taking a hold of Nautica's head and turning it.

    It wasn't difficult for Firestar to stand out from the rest of the crowd. This was owed in part to her "flame hair", a modification to her helmet which made her detectable from a mile away. It also helped that she carried herself as if she was better than everyone else in the room, as if she were the host of a party or something.

    Then again, she probably was. The way she was giving directions to others certainly gave Nautica that impression.

    "That's Firestar, ain't it?" Starfield asked. "The two of you are s'posed to be Amica Endurae, right?"

    "Yeah," Nautica murmured. "We are."

    "Well, go on then!" Starfield gave her a small push. "Go talk with her! You've got thirteen hundred years to catch up on."

    "Joy." Left with no choice -- and Nightbeat watching her curiously -- Nautica started to make her way towards Firestar, silently praying to Solus that everything would go curiously.

*  *  *

    "Excuse me. Pardon me. Coming through."

    Rung pushed his way through the crowd, trying hard not to bump into anyone or cause any grief. Luckily, no one seemed to take notice of him. Sometimes, he was grateful for the knack for inconspicuousness he always seemed to have.

    Eventually, he came out into a clearing within the crowd and found Swerve in his natural habitat: working at the bar. Upon seeing Rung, the white and red minibot grinned and waved him over.

    "Howdy, partner. What can I get for you?"

    "Why, dare I ask, are you running a bar in what's supposed to be a funerary service?" Rung asked. "And to think I would ever have to ask a question like that...."

    "The femme with the head on fire told me that Thunderclash wanted to be remembered in the same way he had lived: with much glory and splendor. In other words, a party."

    "Ah. And you're in charge of refueling."

    "Hey, no one else was up for the job, so I volunteered. At least it's something I'm good at." Swerve frowned as he scanned the crowd. "Now if only someone would come by with that engex distillery."

    Rung cleared his voicebox. "Well, I hate to cut this conversation short, but I'm looking for Fortress Maximus. He had been just with me a minute ago."

    "I think I saw him walk out with Ratchet. Don't ask me where they've gotten to though," Swerve replied. "Although, speaking of looking for people, some mech was just by here looking for you."

    Rung lifted an eyebrow. "Really? Did they say why or who they were?"

    "He didn't say why, just that he wanted to meet you at the Beta Memorial on the fifth floor. I didn't catch his name, but he was a real spindly fella in white and blue... and a speaker for a mouth."

    Rung took a step back, putting these descriptors together in his head. No, it can't be. It can't be him.

    Adjusting his spectacles, Rung thanked Swerve before reentering the sea of bots, making his way for the exit.

*  *  *

    "Well, well, look who it is."

    Nautica stopped cold in her tracks, having not realized that Firestar had seen her approach. She quickly put on a cheerful smile and waved back at the red femme. "Hey, Firestar! Long time no see!"

    Firestar laughed as she came forward. "No kidding. Last I heard from you, you'd just finished your exams at the Monoplex Academy."

    Nautica's expression wavered, processing her friend's words. "Monoplex...? Firestar, that was over a thousand years ago. I've sent you probably a dozen more since then."

    Firestar's own grin dropped from her faceplate, becoming an orange blank slate. "Oh. I guess I never got them. Was probably too busy or... something."

    "You... you didn't think I had forgotten about you, did you?" Nautica asked, frowning. "That I had put everything behind me when I left?"

    "No. No, of course not." Firestar laughed, though it hardly sounded genuine. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not that kind of bot. We both had our own lives to live, and I suppose it's easy to get caught up in them."

    "Maybe so," Nautica murmured. "But I still sent messages to you, at least one every year. I only stopped because of the war and--"

    "I understand." Firestar rested a hand on her shoulder, still wearing that unconvincing smile. "I do. Really. You don't need to explain yourself. It's all good."

    The two Camiens held each other's gaze for a moment until Nautica returned the smile with her own. "Okay. If you say so."

    Dropping her hand from her best friend's shoulder, Firestar then said, "So. Overcast tells me you're searching for the Knights of Cybertron as well. Have you made any progress?"

    "Uh, funny you say that." Nautica rubbed the back of her head. "So far this is the only progress we have made -- getting here to Caminus. Our captain wanted an audience with the Mistress of Flame, but... that seems to have been postponed."

    Firestar hummed, her face unreadable. "Yeah, we had just been over Troja Major when Thunderclash started... failing. We had been about to visit an antique collector who was said to have knowledge on the symbol Thunderclash had been seeing in his dreams."

    "Symbol?" Nautica asked. "Dreams?"

    "Yeah, you'd have to ask Velocity about it. All I know is that it's some weird gear shape."

    "Interesting. Well, at least you guys have something to go off of. All we've got is some slapdash map Drift came up with."

    Firestar chuckled. "I'll admit, I'm surprised we've gotten this far without one. All we have to go on is Thunderclash's visions and hunches."

    The two friends then fell silent, both trying to think of another topic to discuss. While they had been talking, someone had started playing music -- "Hymn of the Wingless Angel" by Sir Lukarios V -- and the lights had been turned off to bring out multi-colored ones. Already bots were starting to dance to the beat. Pretty soon there'd be no good place to stand without colliding into a blind dancer.

    "Well then," Firestar said, already turning to leave. "I'd better go back to preparations. Want to make sure Airwave doesn't play anything offensive again. Last time we had a party, he played The Chaos Bringers' 'Cybertron's On Fire (And Mortilus' My Conjunx).' Needless to say, Afterburner had a field day."

    Nautica chuckled lightly. "Then you'd better get going. I'll see you around, yeah?"

    "Of course. Later, Naughty Nautica."

    Firestar left with those words, leaving Nautica standing there with a smile that didn't know what to do with itself, that looked like it didn't belong.

    It was a smile that told you the person wearing it was feeling anything but happiness.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

--Outpost One--

    "So little Ragnarok's gotten himself on the loose, has he?" Tarantulas chuckled to himself as he moved about his lab. "Ah, children. Can't live with them, can't live without them."

    Gigatron sneered, standing by the door with his arms crossed. "You are offensively calm about the situation. Ragnarok is out there in the galaxy unattended. Unsupervised. Wreaking havoc to Mortilus knows how many worlds."

    "Why do you sound so concerned about that?" Tarantulas asked, looking over his shoulder at him. "You're a Decepticon warlord. Havoc is part of the game for you."

    "Yes, but Ragnarok isn't a warlord; he's a simple-minded experiment who is unable to look after himself. Without supervision, his power can prove just as dangerous to us as it is useful."

    "You underestimate him, Gigatron." Tarantulas skittered from a table, having retrieved a scalpel, and moved towards the deactivated Artfire on the medical slab. "He may be no Shockwave, but he's considerably smarter than a Vehicon."

    Gigatron snorted. "Regardless, we must find him as soon as possible. Do you have any sort of tracking device on him?"

    "If I did, we would not still be standing here," Tarantulas said as he set to work. "But not to worry. I've already prepared a set of trackers for a situation such as this."

    "In that case, give them to me and I shall--"

    "Oh, pardon me. I did not mean to imply they were ordinary tracking devices." The spider bot shifted over to hit a control panel, which transmitted a private signal. "They're much more than meets the eye. And they're waiting for you in hangar six."

    Gigatron scowled. "What kind of game are you playing at, bug?"

    Tarantulas cackled as he set about slicing up Artfire's head. "The best kind. The one which I win every single time."

--Caminus--

    "So, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly brings you lot to Caminus?"

    Rodimus quickened his pace to catch up with Overcast, who was still walking with Nautica down the Citadel's silver and blue hallways. "Well, we're on a quest, you see."

    "Ah, those are always fun," Overcast said. "A quest to find what?"

    "Not what, who," Rodimus said, grinning. "We're searching for the Knights of Cybertron."

    "That right? Funny."

    Rodimus frowned. "I know it might sound ridiculous, but--"

    "No, no, no," Overcast said hastily. "You misunderstand me. I'm not making fun of you or your quest... I was just remarking on the fact that you're the second ship to arrive today with the same mission."

    Rodimus blinked. "I... beg your pardon?"

    "No more than a minute before you arrived, a group of shuttles from the Vis Vitalis landed in our hangar. They're searching for the Knights of Cybertron as well."

    This brought Rodimus to a cold, dead stop. Everything ahead of him suddenly seemed to be a hundred miles away and he could not find the energy to press forward. While the others simply moved past him, Drift came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

    "Hey. Is everything all right?"

    Rodimus did not reply and instead rushed back over to Overcast. "Wait, you mean to tell me Thunderclash is looking for the Knights of Cybertron?"

    "Yeppers."

    "Then what's he doing here? If he's had Camiens like you and Windblade and what not on board, that means he's already been to Caminus before. Why would he come back here instead of, you know, making progress?"

    "Now that, I don't know," Overcast said. "I had not been informed beforehand of their arrival, which makes me think there's been some sort of emergency."

    "Ha! That's rich!" Rodimus said dryly. "Thunderclash never has emergencies. He's the greatest Autobot that ever lived. Even Optimus Prime looks up to him. Heck, people say Omega Supreme goes to him for advice. Omega fraggin--"

    Overcast raised a finger to silence him, holding another to his comm. "Hold that thought, I'm getting a call. Yes, Lightbright?"

    The Camien listened patiently to the bot on the other end, saying "Yes" and "Uh-huh" sporadically. Then he said "Oh" in a tone that was usually used whenever bad news was received, and the "I see" which followed gave Rodimus the impression something seriously bad had happened. Finishing up with "Okay, I'll be there soon," Overcast ended the call and looked to the others.

    "I hate to end the tour before it's even begun, but we have to go to the Grand Hall, asap."

    "Why?" Rodimus asked. "What happened?"

    "Thunderclash is dead. The funeral is being held in three hours."

--Earlier--

    In all his life, Afterburner could not recall ever being in a good mood. Regardless of what period the universe was in -- war or peace -- he could simply not muster the "positive energy" that his fellow Camiens encouraged him to show. He woke up every day with a burgeoning sense of dread, fearing that something somewhere was going to go wrong for him. And nine times out of ten, nothing came about to justify those fears.

    So it just figured that, the one day he got out of his recharge station actually feeling optimistic and good about himself, a bombshell like this was dropped on him.

    Propping himself against the balcony's railing, he rubbed the top edge of his mouthplate, sighing deeply. "You're absolutely certain he's dead?"

    "He's already succumbed to rigor morphis," said the red and orange femme behind him, the flame emitting from her helmet flickering. "We've done multiple scans on him and none show any sign of spark activity. He's dead, Afterburner. No doubt about it."

    Letting go of the railing, Afterburner turned around to face Firestar fully. "Any idea what caused it?"

    "Our best guess is the spark injury he suffered at the Fall of Grindcore. However...." Firestar shifted her feet slightly, her optics darting. "For the past few months, every bot we've had visit Thunderclash to serve their honors have died. Countdown, Peritus Maximus... even members of our own crew, such as Vertex and Photon."

    "You have some sort of epidemic going around?" Afterburner asked.

    Firestar shook her head. "I don't think so. None of our scans on the ship have picked up anything, and the bots who have died look to be in perfect health-- besides the fact that they're dead, of course."

    "Radio the Vis Vitalis to come down and I'll order an inspection," Afterburner said. "In the meantime, we should bring this news to the Mistress of Flame."

    "Actually, I think we should let everyone know," Firestar replied. "Thunderclash is respected greatly by all Camiens, more so than any Cybertronian besides Optimus Prime. It's only fair that the whole world knows about it."

    Afterburner sighed. Although he had never thought much of Thunderclash unlike most, he knew Firestar had a point. Turning on his comm, he said, "All Cityspeakers, this is Commander Afterburner. I have some news I want you all to know...."

--Now--

    "Oh my god. Oh my god."

    Skids poked his head out the Rodpod to see Rapid Run staggering, holding herself up against the ship. Frowning, he asked, "What's wrong?"

    "It's Thunderclash," she replied, her voice softer than a whisper. "He's... he's dead."

    "What?" Skids exclaimed, incredulous. "Are you serious? How do you know this?"

    "A Cityspeaker just radioed me. Said it was spark failure." Rapid Run towards the Citadel, her optics filled with sadness. "Apparently that's why the Vis Vitalis is here."

    "Wow." Skids leaned against the door frame, shocked. "That's just... wow."

    "Pretty much. They're holding a funeral in the Grand Hall in three hours."

    "Are you gonna go? I don't mind, you know. I've already got company."

    "I probably should. Except...." Rapid Run shook her head, turning away from the tower. "No. I should stay here. I have a duty."

    "You sure?" Skids looked to see other Camiens moving towards the Citadel, clearly having received the call as well. "Seems like everyone else is leaving their post."

    "Which is precisely why I should stay. Someone has to keep a look out for any unwanted visitors."

    "Does Caminus get those often?"

    "Well, no," Rapid Run murmured, rubbing the back of her head. "The last one we had was... about a century ago. It was a ship full of organics trying to sell us illegal tech. They were completely harmless, just, you know... pushy."

    "So, given that, what are the odds of a Decepticon warship dropping from the sky and bombarding the planet?" Skids asked, smirking slightly.

    Rapid Run huffed, crossing her arms. "Enough to not make me take any chances."

    "Fair enough," Skids said, turning to leave. "Trouble does tend to always strike when you have your back turned."