Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

--Caminus--

    "Here we are," Ultra Magnus announced as he and Skids drove up to the heavily locked door to the Mistress of Flame's chamber. "You ready?"

    "Yeah," Skids muttered, transforming to robot mode along with Magnus. Looking at the door, studying its intricate, almost ornate-looking lock system, he then said, "Are you sure we'll be able to bring this door down? I'm not doubting our firepower or anything but... this looks stronger than any door in the Iacon Vaults."

    "Any door can come off its hinges," Magnus said, priming the rocket launchers on his shoulders. "Now then, on the count of three. One...."

    Skids deployed his weapons: arm cannons, shoulder cannons, missile launchers....

    "Two...."

    It crossed Skids' mind that they could have perhaps knocked first. But, knowing Magnus, that had already been attempted.

    "...Three!"

    As one, the two Autobots unloaded their weaponry, assaulting the door with their firepower. The combine strength of Magnus' rockets and Skids' missiles were only enough to heavily dent the door, but not bring it down. After telling Skids to stop, Magnus reached around his back and brought out a rocket-powered hammer.

    Skids stared at the weapon slack-jawed. "Since when did you have that?"

    "Since Que made it for me," Magnus replied. "Now stand back."

    Once Skids had done so, Ultra Magnus raised his hammer and, turning on its small rockets, swung it at the door. The barrier was instantly reduced to pieces and the two Autobots rushed into the darkened chamber.

    Right away, they found the Mistress of Flame. The gold and red-plated leader of Caminus was suspended in midair by several strands of cables, hoisting her up from underneath her arms. Her optics were dimmed, but her muted groans indicated she was still conscious. 

    As Skids and Magnus rushed over to her, the former suddenly heard a groan coming from nearby. He looked over to see a battered Windblade struggling to her feet, her armor badly covered in scratches and blast marks. 

    While Magnus handled the Mistress of Flame, Skids moved over to Windblade to help her up, letting her use him as support.

    "As you all right?" he asked her. "What happened here?"

    "I--" Windblade started to speak until her optics went wide, staring at something over Skids' shoulder. "Behind you...."

    Skids turned around to see Ratchet standing there, a grim look on his face. "Doc? What are you doing here?"

    Ratchet did not respond. Instead, without taking his optics off Skids, he aimed a small remote at Ultra Magnus and pressed it. Whatever it did, it caused the pieces of his armor to fall off of the inner robot within and the now-bear Minimus Ambus fell to the floor.

    Skids and Windblade watched this all in disbelief. As Ratchet put away the remote, Skids said, "What... what's going on, Ratchet? Why are you doing this?"

    Ratchet answered by doing something Skids knew he never did: he grinned. "I'm sorry," the Autobot medic said. "Ratchet isn't available right now. Please forward all of your messages for him to Pharma; he shall handle them--"

    Skids silenced him with a shot to the face, courtesy of his arm cannon. He felt a pang of guilt for doing it, given it was still Ratchet physically, but the last thing he needed right now was having to deal with a lunatic like Pharma again.

    Getting back to his feet, Minimus Ambus brushed himself off before sighing. "Well, that was an unexpected turn of events. Help me get my armor back on so I can--"

    The smaller Autobot never finished his sentence, for a blue bolt of energy stuck him straight in the chest, knocking him out. Before either of them could react, Skids and Windblade were also hit and sent falling into stasis lock.

*  *  *

    The timer read zero. By all accounts, Nightbeat should not have been seeing it. He should have been dead.

    But he wasn't. Nor was anyone else in the room. Even Airwave, the mech who had the bomb built into him, was still alive, staring bewilderingly at the device. To no one's great surprise, it was Whirl who broke the long silence.

    "If this is the Afterspark, it sucks. It looks no different than life. Very unoriginal. Primus should strive to be more creative."

    "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure this is still life," Nightbeat said, staring at Airwave. "I will say, I find it incredibly amusing that you can't even detonate a bomb wired up to yourself. That's... amazingly pathetic."

    "I... I forgot to prime it," Airwave murmured. "I guess... in all the confusion, I--"

    "Yeah, yeah. Why don't you save it for the judge," Nightbeat interjected. "You guys do have a judicial system, don't you? And a prison? Because that's where you'll be going."

    "No." Airwave shook his head. "It's not. I'm going to the Pit."

    Before Nightbeat could reply, he was suddenly pulled away by Chromedome just as Airwave's body started to spark and burst into flames. Everyone watched in horror as the fire consumed the Camien, melting away his armorplating until all was left was his exostructure.

    For the longest time, all in the room simply stared at the burning corpse left behind. Finally, it was Firestar who broke the silence.

    "Okay, people, show's over. Let's... let's just try to collect ourselves and... figure out what we're going to do."

   "Well, I dunno about you guys, but I'm walking out of here," Swerve said, already moving away from his bar. "I'm sorry, but I can't stand to stay in this room any longer than necessary."

    "Don't bother; the door's locked," Riptide said. "I already tried it when... I thought we were all gonna get blown up." The Hydrobot glanced meekly at all of the disapproving looks aimed at him. "Sorry."

    "Well, that's just great," Swerve said, throwing up his arms. "We're locked in here with no lights, no music... how about phone? Has anyone tried calling up Rodimus or whatshisface?"

    "No such luck," Nautica said. "I can't get Rodimus or Overcast or anyone on my comm."

    "And we can't blast our way out because you loser Camiens don't like guns," Whirl said. "If you want, I can bash the door with my head. Or I could do it in helicopter mode. Could take a few days though."

    "Um, hello?" Getaway raised his hand. "Master escape artist, standing right here. Anyone want to ask me?"

    "Okay then, Mr. Master Escape Artist," Nightbeat said, stepping up to Getaway and propping his elbow on his shoulder. "Any ideas on how to escape?"

    "Nope." Getaway shook his head. "I mean, not yet. So far I don't see anything particularly useful. Unless that engex is explosive or something. But otherwise, no, I've got nothing."

    Nightbeat frowned. "Then why even...?"

    "I just wanted to confirm that we were completely out of options before anyone said we were completely out of options."

    Nightbeat revved in frustration as he walked away from Getaway. "Great. Does anyone else have any--"

    "Hello?" Everyone turned to face the door, beyond which the voice was coming from. "Is anyone in here?"

    "Yes, Afterburner," Firestar called back. "We're here. We're fine... for the most part."

    There was a brief pause. "I see. Is Airwave with you?"

    "Uh, no, sir. He's... he tried to blow us up with a bomb, but forgot to prime it. Then he... set himself on fire."

    Another pause. "I see. So everyone else is okay?"

    "As far as I know, yes."

    "I see."

    Silence again. Everyone exchanged concerned looks. Clearing her vocalizer, Firestar said, "Sir? Are you... are you going to let us out? The door's been locked, so...."

    "I know. I'm the one who locked it."

    Firestar blinked. Several bots gasped. Others merely frowned.

    Afterburner went on. "Look, it's nothing personal. I'm just doing this because... I want what's best for our race."

    "Afterburner," Firestar murmured. "What's going on?"

    "Look, everything's going to be all right. You just... just stay here. Everything's going to be okay."

    "Afterburner, wait!" Firestar cried. "Afterburner!"

    No response came. The Camien had already left.

    And everyone had been left to die.

Transformers Regenerated: Lost Light VI, Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

--Caminus--

    By the time Skids, along with Rapid Run and Ariel, had gotten to the Citadel, he could already tell something was wrong.

    Camiens were rushing to and fro, panicked looks on their faces. One was giving out orders, pointing in different directions. Up ahead, he could see Rodimus and Ultra Magnus speaking with another and drove straight towards them, the other two right behind him.

    "What's going on?" Skids asked as he transformed. "Rapid Run made it sound urgent when you called her."

    "It is," Rodimus said grimly. "Pharma is here."

    Skids' optics went wide. "Pharma? Here? How?"

    "No time to explain," Ultra Magnus said. "We've already got bots searching high and low for him. Right now, we've got an even bigger problem."

    "Of course we do," Skids muttered. "What is it?"

    "The Mistress of Flame is trapped inside her chamber," said the black and gold Camien Rodimus had been speaking with. "No one can get a hold of her or her Torchbearers, and the door to her chamber is heavily secured."

    "Windblade is with her too," Rodimus said, "and I can't get her comm frequency either."

    "So what do you need me to do?" Skids asked.

    "You're going to help Magnus bring the door down. Hopefully between his largeness and your many guns, it'll be enough to get yourselves in."

    Skids frowned, particularly at the Camien. "Do you guys seriously not have emergency access codes or anything."

    "If anyone does, it would be one of the Torchbearers or a Cityspeaker. I don't know of anyone who does, though."

    "Well, there's no time to worry about that," Ultra Magnus said, just before converting into his truck mode. "Let's go, Skids."

    "Right. Be right with you." Skids looked over to Rapid Run and Ariel. "You two stay safe, yeah?"

    "Don't worry about us," Rapid Run said cheerily. "We'll be fine." Ariel nodded in agreement.

    Smiling at them, Skids then turned and transformed, driving after Magnus.

*  *  *

    "What the actual living frag is going on?" Getaway said as he and the others in the Grand Hall turned their headlights on to see in the sudden darkness.

    "You kiss your caretaker with that mouth?" the Camien known as Starfield snapped at him. "The power probably just went out. No need to worry."

    While he was far from worried, Nightbeat still felt there was something amidst. Something felt off, not right. 

    While everyone else mused amongst themselves, Nightbeat went on the hunt, even bringing out his magnification device to study everything: the floor, the walls, the engex dystillery, Swerve's bar, Swerve himself. He could tell everyone was staring at him, judging by the embarrassed groans from Nautica.

    "He's with you, isn't he?" another Camien asked her.

    "I don't even know him, Proxima."

    Nightbeat went on with his investigation for some time, eventually making his way to Airwave and his music station. The red and white Camien watched the detective oddly as he thoroughly studied each speaker and piece of equipment. He then wheeled around and stared at Airwave sternly.

    "What is all this hooked up to?" the detective asked.

    "The main grid," Airwave answered.

    "And the lights?"

    "Same." His optics narrowed skeptically. "Why? What are you trying to say?"

    "The music stopped playing before the lights went out," Nightbeat said. "If they're both connected to the grid, wouldn't they have gone down simultaneously?"

    Airwave stared at him blankly, his mouth struggling to form a response.

    Nightbeat increased the brightness of his headlights, causing the Camien to flinch. "They would, wouldn't they? So either the song you have been playing just happened to be finishing when the lights went, or there's something else going on here."

    Airwave held his gaze for a pressing moment. Then, in a low, even tone, he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this. I really didn't want to do this."

    "Do what?"

    "Look, it's nothing personal, okay? I have no qualms with anyone in this room. In fact, I'm friends with most of them. But... he told me if I didn't do this, he would... he would...."

    "You're not making much sense, pal. Mind dropping the cryptic vagueness and just get to the point?"

    "Right, of course." Airwave raised his hands to his chestplate and pulled back the panels. "I figure it's about time anyway."

    Nightbeat yelled out in surprise. He immediately reached for his gun... only to remember it had been confiscated earlier.

    The timer on the bomb read five seconds. With no other option at his disposal -- and absolutely no intention to die -- Nightbeat lunged at the Camien.

*  *  *

    "Froid? Froid!"

    Rung pushed his way past moving Camiens as he struggled to keep up with the other psychiatrist, whose long legs were carrying him faster than Rung's ever could. If it hadn't been for the crowd, Rung probably would have used the scooter that made up his backpack to catch up to him.

    Luckily, upon turning a corner into an empty hallway, Froid slowed his enough for Rung to get to him. The other psychologist paid him no heed however, instead at each numbered door they passed through the hall.

    "What are you doing?" Rung asked him. "What's so important for you to look for when everyone is--"

    "I'm looking for my patient," Froid said.

    "Your patient? You said he was--"

    "Fine, yes. Before everything went down the scrapper." Froid eventually stopped before a door labeled 'Sanitation Station'. He moved to open it until Rung grabbed his arm.

    "What are you doing here?" the bespectacled mech asked. "This is a janitorial closet."

    "Very perceptive," Froid said dryly. "I suppose those lenses do serve a purpose."

    Rung furrowed his eyebrows. "You said your patient was interacting with Camiens."

    "I said I had given him allowance to do so. As far as I know, he's locked himself up in this closet for the past thirteen hours." Froid then pressed the access panel near the door, causing it to slide open. Rung gasped at the sight which greeted him.

    A large mech in black and red huddled at the very back of the closet, hugging his legs close to his spiky chest. A large radar dish adorned his forehead, while his face was hidden behind his crossed arms. The mech did not so much as lift his head as Froid approached him.

    "Sunder? Are you okay? Don't worry, it's me...."

    "Froid," Rung murmured. "That's... you know that's...."

    "I am fully aware of who he is," Froid replied. "Sunder. The Tetrahex Ripper. The Death Walker. His reputation is far from obscure."

    "I know, but...." Rung had difficulty in finding words. "He's your patient?"

    "Whose psyche did you think I was examining when I left for Garrus-6? I had a part in Sunder's capture and was intrigued by his... condition that I volunteered to be his psychiatrist when he was taken to Garrus-6. When he and I were the only survivors, we became somewhat... dependent on each other. He needed someone to look after him, and I... well, it never hurts to keep in practice."

    Rung frowned in disapproval at his former colleague. "Froid, you of all people should know that close practitioner/patient relationships are considered as malpractice by High Command."

    "Oh yes, I am aware of that," Froid said, meeting Rung's gaze. "I suppose you can say we have that little kind of misdeed in common."

    Rung glared at him. "What are you...?"

    "Please don't tell me I'm the only one who remembers the Fateful Archetype...."

    Rung clenched his fists. "That was different...."

    "Was it, Rung? Was it? Please, do enlighten me."

    The orange mech continued to glower at his ex-cohort before finally looking away, making an exasperated noise. "Forget it. That conversation is neither here nor there. We'll talk about it later."

    "We shall see." Turning back to Sunder, Froid said, "Sorry about that. Listen, I need you to--"

    "Rung, is that you?"

    Both psychologists fell silent and looked at each other, a knowing, dreadful look in their optics. Steeling himself, Rung then turned around to see a winged mech in white, red, and blue standing before him.

    "Rung?" Pharma said. "I would like to have a word with you."

Star Wars Destiny Chronicles: Imperial Warlords -- Warlord Zsinj / Empire Reborn

Okay, I'm ditching the "Files" narrative as some of the details I want to include probably wouldn't be known by some Alliance officer.

IMPERIAL WARLORDS, PART II

The Empire of Warlord Zsinj

   The son of a Fondorian mechanic, the man simply named Zsinj decided to follow in the footsteps of his mother and became an officer in the Imperial Navy. Quickly rising through the ranks, Zsinj was named the first Warlord of the Empire after leading a successful campaign against his mother, who had become a pirate and worked against the Empire. He was also made Grand Moff of the Quelii Oversector and used his power to quarantine the planet Dathomir.

   After the Battle of Endor, Zsinj struck out on his own and built his own domain in the Quelii Oversector. The New Republic left Zsinj's domain alone for the first few years of its existence, instead focusing on greater threats such as the loyalist Empire still under the Imperial Ruling Council as well as other, more dangerous warlords. In time however, Zsinj's ambitions simply grew along with his empire, as those who had once followed Sate Pestage and Ysanne Isard were now falling under his banner. In 7 ABY, Zsinj made his first strikes against the New Republic, attacking major fortress worlds such as New Alderaan.

   In response to these attacks, the New Republic organized a fleet commanded by General Han Solo to hunt down Zsinj. With the help of Rogue and Wraith Squadrons, the Solo Fleet was able to counter Zsinj's tactics with innovative maneuvers. After narrowly escaping several engagements with Solo's forces, Zsinj eventually retreated to his hidden base on Dathomir, only to fall into conflict with the Hapan Royal Fleet.

   By 8 ABY, Solo was increasing all efforts to find Zsinj, not only out of personal vendetta but also as a result of the disappearance of Solo's son Ben. Han suspected Zsinj to be the one behind his son's vanishing and was determined now more than ever to find the warlord. After learning of Zsinj's location on Dathomir, Solo traveled to the planet and performed a strafing run on the Iron Fist, Zsinj's flagship. He then deployed concussion missiles onto the Star Destroyer's bridge, destroying the ship and killing the warlord.

   Following the death of their leader, Zsinj's forces remained active for a time, albeit without direction. Some folded in with the Dark Empire that was fledgling in secret, while others fell in with other operating warlords. Zsinj's chief rival, Treuten Teradoc, was able to claim most of his fleet and declared himself High Admiral of the Mid Rim.

Lord Hethrir and the Empire Reborn

   A native of the planet Firrerre, Hethrir was taken into the Empire and handpicked by Darth Vader for training as a Dark Jedi. Excelling his master's expectations, he was given the title of Procurator of Justice and put in charge of the Empire's criminal justice system. When the Empire fell, Lord Hethrir was already prepared for the event and led his followers into hiding. 

   From Crseih Station, Hethrir began building his army. Benefiting from the slave trade by supplying the thousands of prisoners he had kept on the station, Hethrir was able to buy armament from the gangster Reelo Baruk. Several Imperials fell under Hethrir's sway, including Admiral Galak Fyyar, who helped him outfit a fleet. Alliances with others warlords, such as Admiral Blitzer Harrsk, were also sought to help consolidate their presence in the galaxy.

   In 12 ABY, Hethrir recruited the fallen Jedi Desann to his cause, making the Chistori his right-hand man and giving him the task of building an army of Dark Jedi to combat Luke Skywalker's restored Jedi Order. Meanwhile, across the galaxy the Empire Reborn set up installations and facilities under the New Republic's nose. At some point, the Sith of Darth Vorath became aware of the Reborn's activities but decided to leave them be, so long as they did not interfere with their own plans.

   After a series of encounters with two New Republic commandos -- Kyle Katarn and Jan Ors -- Desann was able to procure the location of the Valley of the Jedi and took his Dark Jedi to Ruusan, where they used the Valley to bolster their powers, becoming the Reborn. Meanwhile, after learning of the Empire Reborn's existence from Katarn, the New Republic set out to investigate their activities, neutralizing their connections to Reelo Baruk.

   Despite this, Lord Hethrir decided it was time to make his first move against the Republic by launching an attack on the Jedi Praxeum. By destroying the Jedi, Hethrir hoped to use it as platform to bring his empire to prominence. With Desann and Admiral Fyyar at the head, the Reborn forces were sent to Yavin 4.

   Unfortunately for Hethrir, the attack did not go as planned. Having infiltrated the Reborn's flagship before it launched from Cairn Installation, Kyle Katarn was able to alert the New Republic to the Star Destroyer's location, and Admiral Fyyar was destroyed with his flagship before it could make it to Yavin. Katarn then headed for the Jedi Praxeum, which Desann and his Dark Jedi were already attacking. With Katarn's help, the Jedi were able to defeat Desann and his army.

   After this major setback, Lord Hethrir retreated from the public eye, burying himself in his study to conjure up a new plan of action. Two years after the failed attack on Yavin, Hethrir was contacted by a Dark Jedi named Tavion Axmis. Axmis had been an apprentice of Desann's who had given the location of the Reborn's flagship to Kyle Katarn and fled to escape punishment from her master. Hethrir was about execute Axmis for her treason until she showed him an artifact she had purchased from a merchant on Commenor: the Scepter of Marka Ragnos, an ancient Dark Lord of the Sith. 

   Seeing a new window of opportunity opening before his eyes, Hethrir tasked Axmis with finding the Tomb of Marka Ragnos and resurrecting the ancient Sith in the hopes that it would give the Empire Reborn the leverage it needed against the Jedi and the New Republic. Unbeknownst to Hethrir, Axmis had already been planning on doing just that and had only informed him at the behest of one of Darth Vorath's Sith. Despite providing Axmis with additional resources, she was soon defeated by the Jedi Jaden Korr, who also destroyed the Scepter of Ragnos, entrapping the ancient Dark Lord within his tomb forever. Shaken by this second setback, Hethrir was still not ready to admit defeat. 

   Setting his eyes on children to kidnap and indoctrinate into his empire, he soon discovered that Senator Leia Organa Solo would be visiting a nearby system, accompanied by her three children. Knowing that the grandchildren of Darth Vader were sure to be strong in the Force, Hethrir was about to send his spies to retrieve them... only to be stopped by Darth Vorath.

   Although Vorath had allowed Hethrir to build his empire without incident, he had only done so because it provided the New Republic with a large enough distraction while he built his own empire. Now that the Empire Reborn had lost most of its army, Vorath no longer saw it as something worth keeping; and he especially could not allow Hethrir to kidnap the Solo children, as he was also aware of the power they held. Rather than simply kill Hethrir however, as that would attract too much suspicion, Vorath instead broke the Procurator's mind, driving him mad. The Sith then left Crseih Station while Hethrir's madness prompted his followers to disband, not wishing to follow a crazy emperor as well as lacking the desire to press onward in his steed.

   Following this, Hethrir was not heard from again until fourteen years later, when he was found on Belderone by Toah Jarsan's clone. Having received professional help for his madness, Hethrir was sane enough to tell the clone Toah of a secret he had kept from the entire Empire Reborn: the existence of Waru, the mastermind behind the Glorian Empire. Waru had been pulled from his universe by the intense disturbances in the Force Hethrir had caused with his torturing of prisoners and had served as a living conscious for Hethrir. 

   After learning all of this, the clone Toah went on to form a Dark Jedi Order to one day fight against the Glorians. Meanwhile, Hethrir lived the rest of his years on Belderone, eventually passing away in 31 ABY. 

Star Wars Destiny Chronicles: Imperial Warlords -- Pestage / Isard / Rax

   This series of bios are written to tie in the Canon and Legends aftermaths of the Empire into my fan universe. 

IMPERIAL WARLORDS, PART I

GAI File IW-001 (Major Kals Vaddus, 27 ABY)

   With the recent (and hopefully last) fall of the Empire, it has fallen onto me to lead the mission in keeping track of all the loose ends we have on the Empire. Many Imperials have risen over the past two decades, all vying for control of the Emperor's scraps. While most of them have been either eliminated or put into custody, rumors are starting to spread of some of these warlords still being active. Despite the best efforts of the Imperial Remnant to put these fears to rest, the Galactic Alliance has tasked me in uncovering what I can of all major figures within the Empire so that we can follow any and all possible threads and vanquish the threat of the Empire once and for all.

   Each of these files shall detail three of the Empire's most fearsome warlords, documenting their history, their rise to power, and their current status (if it is known). This is all compiled from an assortment of documents, files, and hearsay from Alliance and Imperial members alike.

Sate Pestage

   Much of Sate Pestage's past remains shrouded in mystery. What little is known is that he was born in the city of Dalpona on the Outer Rim world of Ciutric IV. Ever since Palpatine's election as Senator of Naboo, Pestage had served as the future Emperor's right-hand man, becoming one of his chief advisers when he was elected Supreme Chancellor. 

   When the Empire came into power, Pestage was named Grand Vizier and oversaw the many bureaus, ministries, and other offices of the Galactic Empire. In many ways, he was the figurative ruler of the Empire, as Palpatine had gradually withdrawn from the public eye, ruling the Empire through Pestage.

   After the Battle of Endor, which saw to the Emperor's demise, control of the Empire naturally went to the Grand Vizier, the next highest rank after the Emperor. Rather than seek revenge against the victorious Rebel Alliance, Emperor Pestage instead went on the defensive, fortifying Coruscant and the other Core Worlds.

   Unbeknownst to Pestage, those he thought were his closest allies were secretly working against him. Behind his back, Director Ysanne Isard of Imperial Intelligence was conspiring to take the throne for herself. She manipulated Pestage into making moves against the New Republic that only proved to weaken his hold on the Empire, sowing a lack of confidence among the members of the Ruling Court.

   Between Isard's manipulations and the growing armies of the various Imperial warlords that had risen across the galaxy, Pestage was forced to turn to the New Republic for help. Meeting with Leia Organa in secret, the beleaguered Emperor offered to leave Coruscant defenseless for the New Republic to retake it in exchange for sanctuary. While Organa agreed to take him on for the deal, she was unable to secure support from the Provisional Council, as many suspected it was a trap.

   Upon returning to Coruscant, Pestage was put on trial for treason, as Isard had found out about his dealings with the New Republic. After the Tribunal found him guilty, Pestage managed to escape arrest and fled to his homeworld of Ciutric IV. However, shortly after arriving, he was placed under custody by Governor Brothic, who had heard of the warrant placed on the dethroned Emperor's head.

   With Pestage gone, the Empire's hold on Coruscant became more and more slippery. Various sectors broke out into riots. While the Ruling Court struggled to maintain order, they sent Admiral Delak Krennel to retrieve Pestage. Isard secretly made a deal with the admiral, promising to make him Emperor if he found Pestage and brought him to her. At the same time, the New Republic sent their forces to rescue Pestage from Ciutric, hoping that it would provide the message that they would not treat their enemies the way the Empire did.

   While the Republic succeeded in freeing Pestage, they were prevented from leaving Ciutric IV by the arrival of Admiral Krennel's forces. After weighing his options, Pestage decided to betray the New Republic and sent their battle plans to Admiral Krennel. The New Republic were still victorious against the Imperial forces and able to get off Ciutric. However, it wasn't until after they were away that they realized Pestage had ran off from them.

    What befell Pestage after this is anyone's guess. Shortly after the incursion at Ciutric, it was reported that Admiral Krennel had murdered every last member of Pestage's family, leading the New Republic to presume that he had killed Sate Pestage as well. However, in 10 ABY, rumors of a clone Pestage living on Byss surfaced, leading some to belief that the Pestage on Ciutric had also been a clone. So far nothing further has been uncovered, and as far as even the Imperial Remannt is concerned, Pestage is as good as dead.

Ysanne Isard

   Ysanne Isard was born into a family of wealth and influence on Coruscant approximately eight years before the outbreak of the Clone Wars. She idolized her father Armand, who served as Director of Imperial Intelligence for most of the Empire's reign. As his daughter quickly became one of Intelligence's top field agents, Armand began to fear Ysanne would one day usurp him and attempted to have her eliminated by sending her on a suicide mission. Ysanne failed the mission however but was able to get back at her father by uncovering evidence that he was plotting to overthrow the Emperor. In short time, Armand Isard was executed and Ysanne was made Director of Imperial Intelligence.

   After the Battle of Endor, Isard served as an adviser to interim Emperor Sate Pestage, although she desired the throne for herself. Conspiring with the Ruling Council, she was able to manipulate Pestage into losing his power, leading to him making a deal with the New Republic. When Pestage fled from arrest, the Council sent Admiral Delak Krennel to retrieve the former Grand Vizier. While the Empire was preoccupied with Pestage's retrieval, Isard tracked down the ruling members of the Imperial Court and assassinated all but one of them, General Paltr Carvin, whom she had imprisoned on her flagship, the Lusankya. With this done, as well as with Pestage's supposed death at Krennel's hand, Isard was Empress in all but name.

   Her reign was short lived however. By the time she had assumed power, a vast majority of the Imperial fleet had fallen under the commands of various other warlords across the galaxy, chief among them Fleet Admiral Gallius Rax. Knowing that it was only a matter of time before the New Republic retook Coruscant, Isard attempted to create a virus that would reneder Coruscant a sick world. However, this project was sabotaged by Rax's spies and Isard fled from Coruscant when the New Republic attacked.

    Fleeing to Thyferra, Isard named herself a warlord and supported a political coup on the planet. In 7 ABY, Rogue Squadron made battle against Isard's forces and were able to take Thyferra and the Lusankya. While Isard was at first presumed to have been killed in the process, she was actually able to escape and go into hiding. She resurfaced two years later and provided the New Republic with the locations of the Lusankya prisoners, hoping to distract them long enough for her to steal the Lusankya back and join the Dark Empire in the Deep Core. However, her plans were cut short when she was killed by NR Intelligence agent Iella Wessiri. 

Gallius Rax

   Very little exists on Fleet Admiral Gallius Rax's background. He first appeared on the Imperial Navy roster in 15 BBY, holding the rank of commander. His reports were said to be marked "Eyes Only" for Colonel Wullf Yularen and bypassed those of even the most venerated of fleet officers. He was awarded several medals during his service, including the highly prestigious Hero of the Empire and Emperor's Will medals. By the time of the Battle of Endor, he had attained the rank of Fleet Admiral.

   Set on building a new empire, Admiral Rax began weeding out those whose loyalties he knew were in question. Posing as "the Operator", he fed the New Republic with intelligence on vulnerable Imperial routes and galactic leaders likely to secede from the Empire. He then orchestrated an emergency summit at Akiva, leading the New Republic there to attack them. All of the members of the summit were killed save for Admiral Rae Sloane, whom Rax had promoted to Grand Admiral and made her the public face of his Empire.

   Unbeknownst to all who served him, Rax was secretly following a contingency plan allegedly given to him by the Emperor: if Palpatine were to fall, Rax was to make sure the Empire fell with him, as punishment for failing to protect him. This all came to fruition at Jakku, where Rax pitted them against the New Republic's forces, knowing that they would fail.

   The Battle of Jakku was a long and tumultuous conflict for both sides, which Rax oversaw from his base, the Observatory. Halfway into the battle, participating admirals on both sides received a message from a mysterious contact*, who told them of Rax's deception. As a result, both admirals ordered their ships to fire upon the Observatory, killing Rax. The surviving Imperial forces then fled from Jakku, eventually joining forces with Grand Admiral Thrawn.

   With the Battle of Jakku won, along with their earlier victory at Coruscant, the New Republic declared the Galactic Civil War to be over, although conflicts with pocket Imperial domains would still occur for the next five years until the emergence of the Dark Empire.

   *Many Intel agents, as well as the admirals in question, have suspected that this contact was one of Darth Vorath's Sith, as Vorath would have undoubtedly seen Rax's plan as a major blow to his own plans. 

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Miserable Woe, Part III

MISERABLE WOE, PART III

--Tatooine--

    The sandcrawler rocked as it continued its journey through the sands of Tatooine. Night had long since fallen on the Dune Sea, the three moons glowing like opulent pearls in the starlit sky.

    Within the moving vehicle, Talsai Van stood in the sandcrawler's cockpit. Already he had his ditched his Togruta disguise in favor of his much preferred Sakiyan one, with it adopting his old alias Salvan Tai. He no longer felt comfortable in using the name Merlok -- indeed, it had been eighteen years since he had last identified by it, having quickly gotten used to being called Salvan Tai by others.

    Eighteen years. A lot had happened to him in those years. What had started out as a fairly simply reconnaissance mission had turned into... well, this. He had gone by so many faces, so many names, lived so many lives... he was shocked that he wasn't already suffering an identity crisis.

    Then again, eighteen years meant little to a long-lived Shi'ido such as himself. If he had been at this for a century or more... who knew where he would be now?

    Sitting in front of him at the controls of the sandcrawler, the Jawa known as Trek hummed a little tune to himself as he piloted the vehicle. Salvan recognized it as the Hymn of the Dioskuros, a piece he recalled from his childhood.

    "How do you know that piece?" he asked the Jawa.

    Trek raised his yellow eyes at him. "Is a Jawa not allowed to have musical tastes?"

    "You're no Jawa. I don't know what you are, but I know of no Jawa who knows my real name."

    Trek sighed to himself as he returned his gaze to the endless trails of sand. "Well, believe it or not, I am a Jawa. Wasn't always one, granted, but that's what I am now."

    "What were you before?" Salvan asked.

    "An Ewok." Trek paused for long enough to make Salvan think he was being serious, only to then say, "No, but seriously, I was what you are now. A Shi'ido. Or, more specifically, a Glorian."

    "You're an Exile then," Salvan murmured. "You were kissed by a Syren."

    "Yes," Trek replied, bitterness in his voice. "All because Starka was an idiot and I knew it, so I went against his orders. I won Agamar for the Glorian Empire, but I guess that doesn't matter when Starka's got his trousers in a twist. Victories only matter when General Perfect is happy. Otherwise, you might as well have just lost."

    "Yeah, I never really liked him," Salvan grunted. "Heck, that's part of why I resigned as a general and became an agent instead. Although he was no angel, Eclipse was the lesser of two evils compared to Starka."

    "How long have you been an agent?"

    "By the time the war ended it had been thirteen years, although by that point I was all but forgotten about. I guess Eclipse didn't deem me 'worthy' enough of helping with the whole Valtheran thing."

    "Seems like we both got the short end of the stick in our jobs," Trek said. "Perhaps it was destiny that we were meant to be together."

    Salvan glared at him. "Don't get your hopes up, pal. I have no interest whatsoever in a partnership. I just want to get off this forsaken ball of sand."

    "And just where is it you intend to go from here?" Trek asked, raising an eye at him. "You've already been abandoned by your crew, and something tells me that 'Baron Salvan Tai' is no longer a popular name anymore."

    The Sakiyan frowned, casting his silver eyes to the floor. "I'll, uh... I'll think of something. I'm sure there's something out there...."

    "Well, I could always use an extra hand in selling the droids. I used to have a crew, but they all fell into a sarlacc pit." Trek thought for a moment. "And I don't think they did it on accident...."

    Salvan sniffed. "Trading droids is beneath a retired general such as myself."

    Trek shot him a dirty look. "Yeah? How do you think I feel? At least you have a choice!"

    Salvan glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

    The Jawa swore in his tongue as he slapped the dashboard of his vehicle. "Oh, for the love of--! Have you ever met a Jawa that's not a scavenger or trader?"

    "I've never met any Jawas at all, besides you."

    "Well, let me tell you something, pal. You will never -- and I mean never -- see a Jawa who's a senator, or a fighter pilot, or a soldier, or a teacher, or even a Jedi -- and those guys will take anyone in! And it's not like we can't do those things -- we're more than capable enough. But everyone in the galaxy looks down on Jawas as disgusting, pickpocketing rodents that barely registers as sapient. They never even think to give us a chance. Heck, I was even declined a job offer at a junk shop in Mos Shutta, and that was run by a Squib! They're thieves extraordinaire!"

    Trek took in a breath, having finished his rant. Salvan stared at him silently, unsure of what to say (or whether he should speak at all). After a moment, the Sakiyan finally decided to speak.

    "Do you meet a lot of Jawas who feel that way? Or are you alone in that regard?"

    Trek did not answer right away, continuing to focus on the destination ahead. When he finally spoke, his tone was unexpectedly quiet.

    "I'm not exactly popular in the Jawa community."

    "Why?"

    "Because of everything I've just told you. They think I'm a nutjob for wanting more in life; for wanting to, you know, live a life. Plus the fact that Jawaese isn't exactly my first language... I use a translating vocoder to speak Basic, because of the vocal limitations my kind have, but without it, I'm just as unintelligible to Jawas as I am to non-Jawas."

    "So you don't actually care that Jawas are shunned by others," Salvan said. "You just resent the fact that you're stuck as one for the rest of your life."

    Trek glared at him again. "Very perceptive, Merlok. No wonder Emperor Necros decided to make you one of his spies."

    A tense, awkward silence fell over the two, the only sound being the low rumble of the sandcrawler. Salvan had no idea how long it would be before they reached Anchorhead, but he was looking forward to it more and more with each passing moment.

*  *  *

    Junix's Joint was never open past midnight.

    Never. No exceptions.

    Of course, it hadn't always been this way. Ten years ago, when the cantina was owned by the upbeat Ubdurian Drashen, Junix's Joint was open 24/7, with the nocturnal Chirok N'stri operating the place during the night shift. 

    However, after N'stri passed away seven years later, Drashen found it difficult to find a suitable replacement and ended up selling the place to a Kedorzhan named Taod Dront. The taciturn rodent had no desire running a business at night and did away with the old schedule, instead closing as soon as the twin suns had started to set.

    To reiterate, Junix's Joint was never open at night. No exceptions.

    Unless Malvis was in town.

    No one could ever really grasp what it was about Malvis that made everyone so afraid of him. To date, no one had any idea of what he looked like, or even what species he was. The popular theory of him being a Hutt had recently been debunked when the Hutt Cartel backed out of moving operations to Ord Talavos when rumor got around that Malvis was already operating there.

    Other theories were bounced around, with little to no basis. Some believed him to be an ex-Vigo of Black Sun, while others assumed him to be an alias of the elusive crime boss Mujambo.

    Regardless of which was true, it could not be denied that Malvis was a very influential being, so when word got round that the crime lord was looking to Junix's Joint for a location to make business, Taod Dront did the wise thing and allowed to do what he pleased.

    What he did not know was that it wasn't actually Malvis whom he was dealing with, but rather simply a member of his circle going by his name. This was a commonly known practice of his cabal, as for many years different people had reportedly met with Malvis, only for the species-- or even gender-- of one to be completely different than the other.

    The 'Malvis' in this case was a serpentine Sluissi known as Vasim Alazar. Like most of his kind, Vasim was a technological genius and was accompanied by his droid Omni. Another thing about Junix's Joint was that droids were never allowed, but Taod Dront wisely kept his mouth shut about it.

    By the time Valrisa and Typha arrived at Junix's Joint, Vasim was already on his third glass of therin ale, seated in a secluded booth towards the back of the cantina. Omni stood guard and, upon seeing the two women enter, alerted his master of their arrival.

    "Ah! Valrisa, Typha." Vasim raised his glass in their direction. "Glad to see you've made it. Please, sit down. I've already gotten you drinks."

    The pair made their way over to the booth, sliding in to sit across from Vasim. Typha eagerly went for her drink while Valrisa simply stared at the Sluissi, keeping her mask on. Vasim met her gaze and his face turned serious.

    "Do you have it?"

    "Yes."

    "Is it authentic?"

    "Yes."

    He breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good. Now we just wait."

    "Did they say when they'd show up?"

    "Before sunrise was all I was told." Vasim shrugged as he leaned back in his seat. "We very well could be waiting a while."

    Typha frowned at this. "Aw. I'm already bored."

    "Patience rewards, my friend. Once the deal is done, we will all be rich beyond imagination." The Sluissi grinned, a gleam in his black eyes. "That, Malvis promises you."

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.