Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars III, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--Floating Fortress--

    "Sir, there's been a breakout in Sector Eleven-Three--"

    "I'm aware of that," growled the Warden of what had once been Garrus-13. "Dispatch a squad to take of them."

    While the operator carried out his order, another bot spoke up from her own station. "Sir, Scourge wants to know what's going on."

    "Tell him I have it under control. The last thing I need is that fool hovering over my shoulder, telling me how to do my job."

    "Sir," another operator started, only to fall silent as the Warden stormed up to him, optics blazing.

    "What is it?" he snarled.

    The bot shrunk under his superior's gaze. "Quickswitch's ship has arrived and is requesting entrance. Shall I lower the forcefield or wait until the situation has been handled?"

    The Warden exhaled as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Have him wait. Tell him we are experiencing technical difficulties but that it won't take long to deal with."

    At least, not if I have anything to say about it... he silently added to himself.

*  *  *

    "Quickly! Through here!"

    "How do you know where you're going?" Chromedome asked as he and Getaway made a sharp turn after Nightbeat. "What is it about this corridor that tells you it's the one to go down?"

    "I heard a scream come from here," Nightbeat replied. "It kind of sounded like Ratchet."

    The three Autobots soon came to a stop before a locked door, which bore the words "Medbay Seven". As they transformed, they were joined shortly by Brainstorm, who was by himself.

    Chromedome looked at him. "Where's Cannonspring?"

    Brainstorm patted his chest canopy. "In here. Mass-displacement gun. Heck of a thing."

    "Then why don't you use it more often?" Getaway asked.

    "It takes approximately a decade for a charge to load. Last time I used it was at Orvus Base, Cycle 9804. I haven't been invited back since."

    "How long before the effects wear off?" asked Chromedome.

    Brainstorm shrugged. "It varies. Can be anywhere from a few hours to several years."

    At this, Cannonspring banged his fists against the canopy, yelling obscenities. Nightbeat ignored all this as he looked over at Brainstorm.

    "So, Ship's Genius, care to get this door open for us?"

    Brainstorm stepped over to the door and rubbed his chin as he studied it focusing on a nearby keypad. He quickly pressed a series of buttons and the door was instantly unlocked.

    Nightbeat stared at him slack-jawed. "How did you know...?"

    "I didn't. It was just a lucky guess."

    "What did you put in then?"

    "865625. That spells 'unlock'. The password is literally 'unlock'. I am not joking."

    Nightbeat shook his head. "Whatever. Let's just go in."

    They opened the door and, just as the detective had guessed, found Ratchet inside -- or rather, Ratchet's old body, which they knew had been swapped with Pharma's back on Talrus. Getaway narrowed his optics, hands rolling into fists.

    "Okay," he revved. "You have ten seconds to convince us that--"

    "My face still hurts," Ratchet retorted.

    Getaway relaxed, looking somewhat sheepish. "Okay. You're legit."

    "How did you find us?" the medic asked. "Did you just go up to a random door and got lucky?"

    "I heard you swearing," Nightbeat smirked. "I already knew it was you by the colorful language."

    "Wait, did you say 'us?'" Chromedome asked.

    Ratchet pointed a thumb towards an adjacent room. "Ariel and Rampage are here too. Pharma had been... doing things with them earlier."

    "Where's Pharma now?"

    "No idea. He vanished just before you guys showed up. That's why I was swearing." Ratchet sighed as he rubbed his helmet crest. "These past few days have been rough on me."

    "I think you speak for all of us in that regard," Nightbeat said. "So what now? Do we investigate whatever's setting off these alarms?"

    "You mean it wasn't you guys? Because otherwise...." Ratchet trailed off as his optics moved over to a teal scientist. "...Brainstorm, why do you have a little robot in your chest?"

    "Hm? Oh, sorry." Brainstorm opened his canopy and brought out the miniature Cannonspring. "This is Cannonspring. He was born less than an hour ago. Don't worry, this isn't his actual size. I just had to make him small so he could--"

    "Stop right there." Ratchet raised a hand. "What do you mean 'born?' Are you saying he was forged?"

    "I was budded," Cannonspring said. "It's a form of asexual reproduction that has been lost to Cybertronians for many millennia."

    "Budding? I that that was just a bunch of claptrap."

    "As I said, it's fallen by the wayside. Even back in my day, it wasn't a common method."

    "Wait, what do you mean 'back in your day?'" Getaway questioned. "You were just born! How can you--"

    "Enough talk!" Rampage emerged from the other room, Ariel right beside him. "Let us find those responsible for our misery and tear them to pieces! Make them suffer the same way we have!"

    "He has a point," Getaway said. "I mean, not the tear-them-to-pieces bit, but the fact that we should do something other than hang around here. Like, try to find the others or something."

    "Allow me to lead the way," Rampage said. "I can smell fear, and where there is fear, there is suffering."

    Nightbeat glanced at Ratchet. "You sure do attract the crazies, don't you, doc?"

    "Shut up," Ratchet muttered. "And don't call me 'doc.'"

*  *  *

    "Tell me, Cyclonus: did you have a plan of any sort when you decided to break us out?"

    "No," Cyclonus said, blasting the head off one of the many Vehicons shooting at them. "No, I didn't."

    "S'okay," Rodimus replied, returning fire as well. "Happens to me all the time."

    The two of them had been backed into a corner, along with Trailbreaker and Whirl. Most of the others had already been overwhelmed and recaptured by the Decepticons and it was only thanks to Trailbreaker's forcefield and Whirl's brutality that they had yet to suffer the same fate.

    As the crowd of Vehicons grew larger, increasing their offense, Cyclonus spotted a small figure pushing their way through. Spotting their yellow and black color scheme and motorcycle kibble, he easily deduced their identity.

    "Hey, traitor!" Sideways called out. "I see you're back at traitoring! You sure are good at that; traitoring, I mean. It's like your favorite thing. Traitoring."

    Rodimus snorted. "Even I know that's not a word," he murmured. "And I'm the one Magnus reprimanded for using deus ex machina as a verb."

    "Riddle me this, traitor," Sideways went on, now at the forefront of the army of Vehicons. "What do you call a traitor that's betrayed his comrades one too many times? I'll give you a hint: it both starts and ends with the letter 'D.'"

    Suddenly, a scream sounded from down the corridor. Distracted by this, some of the Vehicons ceased fire to look back, allowing Cyclonus and Whirl to easily pick them off.

    "Keep shooting, you morons!" Sideways cried. "Ignore whatever's going on back there. I'm sure it's no--"

    Another scream sounded and Cyclonus could see a large red mech charging down the corridor, tearing through the Vehicons. Those at the front turned to shoot at the intruder, leading them vulnerable to Cyclonus and the Autobots.

    "Oh my god," Sideways groaned. "You guys are useless. No wonder Megatron went through so many of you."

    Seeing that Rampage was getting closer, Cyclonus looked down at his ex-comrade. "Dead."

    She shot him a confused look. "Huh?"

    "That's the answer to your riddle. Dead."

    "Uh, yeah? I wasn't actually expecting an answer from you. I was just--"

    "I know," Cyclonus said. "I just wanted to savor this moment."

    Sideways' bemused expression quickly became one of horror as Rampage grabbed the Herald of Unicron from behind and hoisted her up in the air. Even Cyclonus had to shield his optics as Rampage tore Sideways in half at the waist.

    As the life left her optics, Sideways managed to grunt out her last words: "Please be a super space tank this time...."

    With that, Rampage discarded of the Herald's remains and stood proudly on the pile of Vehicon parts. Behind him, Cyclonus could see Ratchet, Chromedome, Nightbeat, Getaway, Brainstorm, and Ariel arrive.

    "Well," Getaway said. "That didn't take long."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars III, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--The Floating Fortress--

    "Where are we, Lord Megatron?"

    Megatron did not answer Blitzwing's question as the Nemesis docked in the Floating Fortress' hangar bay. To tell the truth, he did not know himself. He had simply received a summons from Shockwave, with the coordinates to Nimbus Five, and was told to bring as many forged Decepticons as he could.

    None of this made sense to him. He thought he had already done his part after "reclaiming" his throne, yet here he was following another's beck and call again. Was he not leader of the Decepticons? Had that not been what Shockwave had been shaping him up to be?

    Or had he always been a pawn...?

    "Megatron?" Blitzwing repeated. "Is everything all right?"

    "I'm fine," Megatron snapped. "Save your questions for later. All shall be clear soon."

    At least, he hoped so.

    Once the Nemesis had docked, Megatron and his crew headed for the loading ramp and disembarked from the ship. Standing outside to greet them was none other than Darkstar, whom Megatron knew as the director of Outpost Four.

    "Hello, Megatron," the Seeker greeted him. "I take it you had a safe journey?"

    "Quite," Megatron grunted. He then stepped over to her and leaned in to whisper in her audio receptor. "What's going on here? What does Shockwave ask of me?"

    "I know nor of any plans Shockwave may have for you," Darkstar whispered back. "I only know that I am to lead you to the meeting chambers. Your crew shall be redirected elsewhere shortly."

    "You mean we came all this way just so we can wait?" Blitzwing said angrily. "Well I tell ya, that's a load of scr--"

    "Silence," said Soundblaster, his tone monotonous as always. "You shall do as you are commanded to."

    Blitzwing rolled his optics. "Always being the kiss up. And I thought Lugnut was bad enough."

    Megatron gave him a warning look before turning back to a bemused Darkstar. "Lead the way then."

    Keeping an optic ridge arched, Darkstar turned on her heel and walked away, with Megatron close behind.

    Neither of them -- nor any of the Decepticons -- noticed a small shuttle sneaking into the hangar and latching onto the side of the Nemesis' hull....

*  *  *

    "You said this thing seated five."

    "I did," Brainstorm said, leaning away from the stealth ship's control. "You're all sitting, aren't you?"

    "Yes, well--" Chromedome winced as he tried to stand up and ended up hitting his head on the ceiling. "It's not like we have any other options."

    "Hey, I never said it would be comfortable, so you can't get on my case for that!"

    "Forget it," Cannonspring grunted, sitting cramped between Nightbeat and Getaway. "Let's just get moving before they spot us."

    "And how are we going to do that?" Getaway shifted slightly to look out the window. "It's quite a drop to the floor. I'm sure someone would hear us."

    "Then we climb out, obviously."

    Getaway glared at him. "Okay then, smart aft. Why don't you lead the way then?"

    Rolling his optics, Cannonspring reached up and started to undo the opening hatch--

    --Just as the alarm went off.

    Pushing past the others, Getaway thrust a leg through the window, causing it to shatter. "Every bot for himself!"

    He then dropped down to the floor, transforming as he landed, and drove off. Nightbeat and Chromedome shortly followed suit, leaving Cannonspring and Brainstorm behind.

    As Brainstorm prepared to drop out of the ship, the other mech cleared his throat. "Um, I hate to bring this up out of nowhere, but, ah...."

    Brainstorm looked back at him. "You can't transform?"

    Cannonspring nodded sheepishly. "I guess the lack of alt mode kibble kind of made it obvious already."

    "Yup." Brainstorm reached behind his back and pulled out a gun, which he aimed at Cannonspring. "Hold still."

    "Hey, what are you--" The featureless bot was cut off by an energy ray hitting him. All of a sudden, he found himself standing before a much, much larger Brainstorm. The Autobot scientist then scooped him up as he opened his chest canopy.

    "Make sure you hold onto something," Brainstorm said as he placed the miniature Cannonspring inside. "I don't have any safety harnesses in alt mode."

    "Why not?"

    "Well, I mean, what good does it do me?"

    Cannonspring sighed. "Point taken."

    With that, Brainstorm dropped from the shuttle and transformed to jet mode, flying after the others.

*  *  *

    Ratchet awoke to the sound of alarms blaring.

    Groaning, he sat up from the berth he had been laying on and rubbed his helmet. Wait a minute, he thought. His hands... they were red. Not blue.

    He looked down at himself. Blocky build, window chest, white and red color scheme... he was back in his original body. He couldn't help but grin; finally he could stop being attacked by Autobots who thought he was Pharma.

    At that thought, his smile quickly vanished. If he was in his old body again... then where was Pharma's?

    "Would someone turn off that blasted alarm?!" he heard a voice cry. "I'm trying to operate!"

    Ratchet froze up. That voice... it was Pharma's. Without a doubt. He would recognize it anywhere.

    He looked around for an escape route. There was only one door, but it was locked behind a keypad. There were no windows, no vents... just one locked door.

    He was trapped.

    "Ah. You're awake."

    He whirled around to see Pharma emerging from an adjacent room, his entire front coated in energon. A wicked grin was plastered on his face.

    "How do you like your body?" Pharma asked. "I made sure to take good care of it."

    "Go frag yourself," Ratchet snarled.

    "Tsk, tsk! Language!" Pharma wagged a finger. "You should watch that filthy mouth of yours, especially when you're around children."

    Ratchet raised an eyebrow. "Children?"

    "Protoforms! We found a whole lot of them on your ship. Since when did you decide to become a daycare?"

    Before Ratchet could answer, he heard a small whimper come from behind the mad doctor. Pharma turned his head towards it and shouted, "Keep it down in there or I'll operate on you next!"

    "Pharma," Ratchet said in a low voice. "What are you doing?"

    He didn't bother waiting for an answer. Before he knew it, his fist had made contact with Pharma's face and his ex-colleague crumpled to the floor in a daze.

    Stepping over his body, Ratchet ran into the other room and found a large red mech stretched upon an operating table, his green spark exposed. He then looked over to see Ariel huddled in a corner, sobbing as she hugged her knees.

    "Aw, scrap," he muttered. Of all the bots Pharma had to pick for torture....

    Moving over to Rampage, Ratchet tried to figure out what it was Pharma had been doing to him. His chest plate had been pried open, exposing his spark chamber. Tiny little sticks jutted out from the pulsing green orb. Had Pharma been trying to splice it? Point One Percenter sparks were not known to be easy to replicate; hence why they were so rare. But if Ratchet knew anything about the freak his former friend had become....

    After gently removing the sticks from Rampage's spark, Ratchet set about repairing the larger bot's chestplate. The alarms continued to blare outside, leading the medic to wonder what was setting them off. Of course, he had yet to figure out where he even was in the first place.

    Once he was finished with Rampage, Ratchet then turned to Ariel, crouching down to meet her eyes.

    "Are you all right?" he asked softly. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

    She shook her head. "He hurt him...."

    "Yes, I know. Don't worry, he's going to be okay."

    "I'm scared...."

    Ratchet nodded. "I understand. But we'll get through this, okay? I'll keep you safe. Both of you."

    Ariel sniffed as she nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

    "Doctor?"

    Ratchet looked up at Rampage, who was now sitting up. "Yes?"

    Rampage jerked his head to where Pharma laid. "I'm going to kill him."

    "No. We need him alive. He's the only one who can unlock the door--"

    "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear." Rampage was on his feet now, looming over the medic. "I'm going to kill him. He hurt me and, by extension, her. And no one hurts my sister and lives."

    "While I admire your code of honor -- such as it is -- I still can't let you do that." Ratchet was standing as well now, although he still wasn't quite at eye level with Rampage. "If you kill him, you'd be no better than him."

   "I'm already worse than him. What have I got to lose?"

    Ratchet found himself at a loss for words. He had forgotten who he had been speaking to; Rampage likely did have a large kill count than Pharma did.

    The point was soon proven moot however when Ratchet looked over again and saw that Pharma had vanished... and the door was still locked.

    "Ariel," he said quietly. "You might want to plug your ears."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars III, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--Rikev-Har--

    "...Is that a transformation cog?"

    "Indeed it is!" Misfire said, proudly puffing out his chest. "It's none other than the t-cog of Amalgamous Prime himself!"

    The large orange Autobot at the counter lifted an optic ridge. "As in it came from his body or something?"

    Misfire blinked. "Um... I guess?"

    "What sets it apart from any other t-cog?"

    "It can transform anything into anything!"

    Big Hoss snorted, eyeing the cog laying on the counter. "Well, it sure isn't doing that."

    "Uh, it, uh, it has to be something mechanical."

    Big Hoss reached underneath the counter and brought out a can opener, pressing it against the t-cog. Nothing happened.

    Misfire scowled as he took back the cog. "Yeah, well, you're not doing it right!"

    "Look, buddy, I've seen lots of things come through the door in the twenty-one years I've worked here," Big Hoss grunted. "A lot of them have been utterly bizarre and strange and I've even given bots money for them. But there is no way in Pit am I paying you for a part that I'm sure you got from some poor sod's corpse."

    "Oh yeah? Well... well... don't you know an expert who can verify it?"

    "I don't need an expert to know when I'm being scammed."

    "Misfire?" A small tan mech poked his head in the doorway. "Are you done yet? Krok wants to get going."

    "Just a minute, Fulcrum," Misfire said. "I'm just about finished here." He then drew his gun and pointed it at Big Hoss' head.

    "Whoa, hey now!" The shop owner held up his hands defensively. "I'm just telling it like it is!"

    "Misfire, what are you doing?!" Fulcrum ran over to his fellow Scavenger. "You don't need to do this! We've still got plenty of Shanix from Spinister's lottery win!"

    "I know," Misfire said, shutting one optic as he took aim. "But having more doesn't hurt, does it?"

    "Krok told us to keep a low profile! Nothing about this is low profile!"

    "Relax, I'm only shooting him between the eyes." With that, Misfire pulled the trigger. The bullet ejected from the barrel of his gun... then stopped, hanging in midair.

    Misfire blinked. That had never happened before.

    "Excuse me. Can you hear me?"

    Misfire turned around to see two bots standing before him. One was a female colored in dark blue, with a round clock on her chest. Her male companion had the same body type, only in a dull grey.

    "Ah, good!" the female said. "It worked this time. Now we don't have to carry you."

    "I'm sorry, but who are you?" Fulcrum asked.

    "The name's Meantime. The old lug here is Midnighter. You two are Misfire of Pretendia and Fulcrum of Chinnex, correct?"

    "How do you--"

    "I've got your Autopedia entries right here," Meantime said, holding up a datapad. "It also says you were both forged, is that correct?"

    "Does it matter?" Fulcrum asked.

    "Immensely. So, care to come with us?"

    The two Scavengers exchanged glances. "Um, why should we?" Misfire asked.

    "Because you need to," Meantime said. "I can explain later; keeping time frozen like this is giving me a headache."

    "But... we have friends waiting for us," Fulcrum said. "We can't just leave them."

    "You're gonna have to. Sorry. Just how things are."

    The one called Midnighter then stepped forward and took Misfire and Fulcrum's hands in each of his own. As all four of them began to glow, Misfire looked back at Big Hoss and the frozen bullet.

    "Wait! Once you resume time... is that bullet gonna hit him?"

    Meantime spared a moment to study the bullet and its projection. "No," she finally said. "You're way off the mark."

    Misfire scowled as he and Fulcrum were teleported away. "Slaggit."

--The Lost Light--

    "Slow down, Cannonspring," Nightbeat said. "I need to write all this down."

    Cannonspring huffed impatiently. "There isn't much time. The ceremony can begin at any minute."

    "No offense, but I find it hard to take the word of someone who says he was born less than an hour ago," Getaway said dryly. "And what is this ceremony you're talking about?"

    "Look, your questions can wait. We need to get to the Floating Fortress and stop the Secret Order from executing their plan."

    "Okay then," Nightbeat said. "Tell us how to get to the fortress. Point us in the right direction."

    Cannonspring frowned as he looked out the viewport. "It... it should be right there," he murmured. "It's not exactly hard to find...."

    "Hold up," Mainframe said, leaning over his console. "Another ship's just entered my radar. It should be emerging from the clouds right about--"

    Before he could finish his sentence, a large shape appeared out of the clouds, piercing the air like a purple dagger. The ship's violet hull was worn and weathered, indicating that it had seen lots of action. It had a very distinctive shape, with sharp, multi-edged wings and a swooped front.

    "Hang on," Riptide murmured. "That's not... what I think it is, is it?"

    "I don't believe I've ever seen it up close before," Getaway said. "But that shape is unmistakable."

    "It's the Nemesis," Nightbeat said grimly. "Megatron's flagship."

    "Oh," Cannonspring said. "I take it that's a bad thing then? Wonderful."

--The Floating Fortress--

    "Sir? Sir!"

    "I'm right here, Wiretap," Afterburner said irritably, not so much as glancing at the smaller Decepticon. "You don't need to shout."

    "Right. Sorry." Wiretap bounced on his heels. "They're here. The Nemesis. Megatron has arrived."

    "Then don't just stand there!" Afterburner snapped. "Lower the forcefield and let them in!"

    "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I'll get right to it, sir."

    Once Wiretap had ran off, Afterburner returned to work, looking out the window that oversaw the processing chamber. Datapad in hand, he continued down the list of names.

    Hound of Monoplex: Clear. Rewind of Petrohex: Clear. Prowl of Petrex: ...Not Clear. But then, Tarantulas had already told him that he needed the Autobot for something he had planned. So long as it did not interfere with the plan, Afterburner could not care less.

    Whirl of Polyhex: Clear. Skids of Nova Cronum: Clear. Convoy...

    Right. The clones. Those two were an anomaly: they were forged, yes, but not exactly normal Cybertronians. At least ,not as far as he understood it. He would have to double check with the Warden.

    Lowering his datapad, Afterburner prepared to raise his superior... only to stop. Down below, he could see one of the many bots in the processing in chamber -- Rodimus of Nyon, he believed -- looking up at him. Wasn't the window one-way? Perhaps he had been mistaken.

    Rodimus was raising a fist. At first Afterburner thought the Autobot was shaking it until he held up his other hand and started making a winding gesture. Slowly, ever so slowly, his middle finger started to extend....

    Afterburner scoffed at this immature display as he turned away from the window. Honestly, he could not understand why Firestar or any of the other Camiens would want to associate themselves with such company.

    He got no more than five feet away when the one known as Cyclonus appeared in his line of sight. Afterburner removed his hand from his comm as he looked up at the former Herald of Unicron.

    "Cyclonus? I thought you were with Scourge."

    "He's currently preoccupied," Cyclonus said, taking sure steps towards Afterburner. "Straxus said I could take a look around."

    "Did he? Because Scourge told me that you would all be--"

    He was cut off by a hand suddenly seizing his neck. Before he could cry for help, he immediately found himself being hurled at the window. Upon collision however, the glass failed to shatter; instead, a weblike crack formed across the pane.

    Shaking his head, Afterburner glared at Cyclonus. "You idiot," he muttered. "Did you forget laminated glass was a thing?"

    Cyclonus said nothing, instead storming forward and delivering a kick to Afterburner's abdomen. The window finally shattered from the pressure and the Camien fell into the chamber below. Landing in front of the one known as Whirl, the last thing he heard was the sound of alarms ringing before he was consumed by claws.

--The Lost Light--

    "There it is!" Cannonspring exclaimed, pointing at the now materializing Floating Fortress.

    "Right then," Getaway said. "Let's speed on ahead and--"

    "Hold it," Chromedome interjected. "The Nemesis is right there. Do we really want to enter its line of sight?"

    "We could use one of the shuttles," Brainstorm suggested. "I think we have one small enough to evade sensors. It only seats five though."

    "Then let's go." Nightbeat was already turning to leave. "Cannonspring, Brainstorm, Chromedome, Getaway, you're with me."

    "What about us?" Riptide asked.

    "Someone has to watch the ship. Plus, no offense, but there aren't any bodies of water around here."

    Riptide sighed. "Point taken."

    "Let us not waste any more time then," Cannonspring said. "Let's rescue our friends."

    Chromedome gave him a look. "'Our?'"

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars III, Prelude

PRELUDE

--The Lost Light--

    In hindsight, the trap had been insanely obvious.

    All of the warning signs had been there: giant mad Decepticon scientist, mysterious location that anyone was willing to say anything about, secret organization... it just had "trap" written all over it.

    But it was too late now. The ship had been left deserted.

    Well, maybe not deserted. There were still a number of bots left on board, just considerably less now. Rodimus, Minimus Ambus, and Drift had all gone missing, as well as some of his closest friends such as Nautica, Skids, and Rung. Why it was those particular bots that had vanished was lost on him... but not for long. He was already on the case, and there was never a mystery Nightbeat could not solve.

    The detective stood on the bridge to the Lost Light, where Blaster and Mainframe still remained. Also present were Chromedome (who had been separated from his sparkmate Rewind), Riptide, Brainstorm, and Getaway. They all watched as Nightbeat paced back and forth, mulling over their predicament.

    "So!" he said. "It's clear that we've reached Nimbus Five, judging by the clouds outside."

    "Actually, all of the planets in the Nimbus system have clouds," Riptide pointed out. "So we could be on Nimbus Three or Six or--"

    "As I was saying, it's clear we've reached our destination without a hitch," Nightbeat went on. "However, we seem to be missing a good number of our crew, including our captain. Does anyone have any idea how this happened? Was anyone with anyone else before they vanished?"

    "I was with Rewind at our hab suite," Chromedome said. "He was recounting the Fall of the Darklands when he just... poofed."

   "'Poofed?' Was there an actual sound or cloud of dust or anything?"

    "Well, no. Not that I saw, anyway. I had my back turned to him, looking up something on the computer."

   "What were you looking up?"

    "I... geez, Nightbeat, does it really matter?"

    "Everything matters!" Nightbeat said. "Every little detail can be a potential clue! Whatever you were looking up on the computer could be the answer to all of this!"

    "Okay...." Chromedome shrugged. "I was looking up images of an Urtuskian's digestive tract."

    Nightbeat's face slowly fell. "...Why?"

    "Rewind made a joke about it looking like Prowl's face. I was looking to see if he was right."

    "Was he?" Riptide asked.

    "Yes, actually. The resemblance is uncanny."

    Nightbeat exhaled loudly. "Right then. Never mind. Riptide, how about you?"

    "I was with Hoist and Trailbreaker earlier," the Hydrobot said. "I got distracted by us jumping to hyperspace and when I looked back, they were both gone."

    "So the vanishing happened -- or at least started -- when we made the jump." Nightbeat tapped his chin. "Brainstorm? Any guesses?"

    Brainstorm shook his head. "You've got me. This isn't my field of expertise. Time travel? Yes. Vanishing acts? No."

    "That's too bad." Nightbeat then turned to Getaway, who immediately held up his hands.

    "Don't look at me. I was recharging when all this happened."

    Nightbeat huffed. "Right. So we don't know what, how, or why this happened. But that's okay. Not everything needs to be solved right away. One step at a time." He then turned to Mainframe. "Any sign of the fortress place?"

    "No," Mainframe said. "But I am picking up loads of spark signatures outside the ship. One thing's for sure, we're not alone on this planet."

    "Um, excuse me?"

    All seven bots turned to see Ambulon standing in the doorway. Nightbeat had last seen the medic in the medibay looking over Ironfist, who had inexplicably collapsed on the bridge earlier. However, it was not Ironfist standing behind Ambulon.

    "This guy showed up outside the medibay," Ambulon said. "He asked me to take him to my leader, so...."

    "I'm not too late, am I?" the mysterious bot asked. "The abduction hasn't started yet?"

    "Um...." Nightbeat rubbed the back of his head. "If you're saying what I think you're saying...."

    The bot swore under his breath. "Scrap. The budding wasn't quick enough."

    "I'm sorry, but who the Pit are you?" Riptide asked. "What is this about abductions and budding and stuff?"

    "My name is Cannonspring. And although I've only been alive for less than an hour, I know more than every single spark on this ship. You're going to listen to me... and do exactly as I tell you."

THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL

Part 3: My Liar's Chair

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: The Dragon's Claw, Part II

THE DRAGON'S CLAW, PART II

--Bar'leth--

    "Fascinating."

    Long mauve fingers twisted the magnification lens lodged into the Koorivar's right eye. Bright yellow eyes shined as they studied the triangular object in front of them.

    Sitting across from the old Sava of Bar'leth, Valrisa waited as patiently as she could for the Koorivar to finish her examination. When she finally set the item down, Valrisa took the opportunity then to speak.

    "Well? What do you make of it?"

    Leosa Vantare entwined her bony hands together as she affixed her with a piercing stare. "It is genuine."

    Valrisa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, but what is its importance? What's so 'fascinating' about it?"

    "Well, unless all my years of experience have gone to waste, I do believe this is the Eye of Kaas, a Sith totem from the reign of King Nakgru."

    "A Sith totem?" Valrisa's eyebrows raised inquisitively. "What would a Sith totem be doing in a Hutt's possession?"

    "Who knows? That's what's fascinating about it." The Sava grinned, flashing a row of rotten sharp teeth. "You're more than welcome to ask them about it."

    Valrisa wrinkled her nose. "I'll pass, thanks." She reached across the table and took the totem, turning it around in her hands. "So how much would you reckon this would go for?"

    Leosa's ridged face fell into a frown. "I would not recommend attempting to resell an item such as this."

    "Why not?"

    "It would paint a target on your head. Those two men you dealt with on Tatooine... by the sounds of it, they were likely Sith or at least Force users with an interest in the Sith. If they survived their encounter with you, they're undoubtedly on the hunt for this totem. Putting it out on the market will only give you more grief?"

    "What would you suggest then? Hold on to it? Leave it with you?"

    The Sava's left eye twitched. "Heavens no. What would I be to do if they were to find me? I'm only a poor, old woman without a fighting bone in her body."

    Valrisa thought for a moment, before saying, "What if I destroyed it?"

    Leosa stared at her, yellow eyes unblinking. "What?"

    "What if I just found a hammer or something and smashed this thing to pieces? Would that be acceptable?"

    The old Koorivar nearly sputtered in her response. "Are you mad?! Don't you have any idea what that would do?"

    Valrisa couldn't help but smirk. "Enlighten me."

    The Sava leaned across the table, her bright orbs boring into Valrisa's eyes. "The Sith were masters of alchemy, even before the arrival of the Jedi Exiles. This totem is sure to be enchanted -- or cursed, I should say -- by Sith magic."

    Valrisa nearly snorted. "Magic? You can't be serious."

    Leosa glared at her. "I have heard many a tale, child, and have seen many things in my ninety years that would put you in a stupor. I have seen the Sith, young one. I know what they are capable of."

    "Right." Valrisa pushed back her chair and rose to her feet, turning to leave. "You know, it's never too late to retire. A woman at your age deserves the rest."

    Leosa scowled. "And let Loo-Tahn take my place? Over my dead body."

    "Give it time, Lee," Valrisa remarked as she stepped out. "It won't be hard for them."

*  *  *

    The dark room was lit only by the blue glow of the hologram displayed before Zarin Kal's dark eyes. The recording showed the image of three figures: two Kiffar and one Besalisk. The audio was slightly distorted but still good enough to listen to.

    "--forever in your debt, Plun," one of the Kiffar were saying. She had thick black hair and bore facial markings similar to Zarin's own: a single gold stripe across the bridge of her nose. "If it wasn't for you, Xav and I would not be here today."

    "Don't mention it, Kalina," grunted the Besalisk. "Just doing my job as a friend and fellow Partisan."

    "And for that, we are eternally grateful." Kalina glanced at the man next to her, who gave her a nod and assuring squeeze of the shoulder. Biting her lip, she turned back to the Besalisk.

    "We're expecting a child...."

    Plun's eyes went wide. "A child? Now of all times?"

    Xav chuckled weakly. "It wasn't exactly planned, of course...."

    Plun was shaking his head, exhaling heavily. "This is... this is very dangerous, you two. The Empire could be on our doorstep tomorrow and here you are with this to worry about."

    "We know," Kalina said sadly. "Which is why we're bringing this to you now. What are we to do, Plun?"

    The Besalisk opened his mouth... and froze. The recording had stopped.

    From the shadows of the room, a frail voice spoke. "As I've said, the rest of the file was corrupted. That was all we were able to recover."

    Zarin nodded as he switched off the holo, plunging the room in darkness. "I understand."

    A small light flickered on, illuminating the frail old man standing in the corner of the room, leaning on a cane. Tired eyes regarded Zarin from behind gray locks.

    "I still fail to see why you are interested in any of this. There is nothing in these recordings that you didn't already know. There was no conspiracy involved in your birth."

    Zarin smirked. "If there was, that would be exactly what you'd want me to think."

    The old Kiffar's face showed no humor. He took a step forward, wobbling slightly on his cane. "Don't be coy with me, Zarin. I know you're here for some other reason."

    Zarin rose to his feet. "I'm here for Quinlan Vos' holocron."

    The elder raised a bushy eyebrow. "Is that it? And just why would you be interested in such a thing."

    "I have my reasons. Do you have it?"

    The old Kiffar hesitated for a moment. Then, he slowly nodded. "Yes, I do. But why should I give it you?"

    "Because it might help me solve a problem I'm having right now."

    The elder let out an exasperated sigh. "And they say I'm needlessly cryptic." Turning on his heel, he beckoned for Zarin to follow him. "This way."

    "Thank you, grandfather," Zarin said as he walked after the elder.

    Korin Zar harrumphed. "Just don't make me regret this."

    "Trust me. I won't."

*  *  *

    Dark eyes narrowed as they studied the blue hologram before them. A gloved hand stroked the scraggly beard owned by the human bounty hunter, the cogs of his brain working to put a name to the face in front of him.

    "I think I know her," he said, eyebrows still connected in concentration. "She's one of Malvis' people. Real piece of work. Nobody likes her. Including myself."

    "Would it be possible for you to track her down?" asked the cloaked figure sitting in front of him.

    The man snorted. "You kidding? Why do you think we're called Snatchers?" He then raised an eyebrow at the stranger. "Although you have to be offering a heavy price if you want any of us to go toe-to-toe with her."

    "You will be payed adequatly once the job is done. However, it is not her I care for, but rather the item she carries with her."

    "And what would that be?" inquired an Ishi Tib standing to the man's right.

    The cloaked being changed the image of the hologram, replacing the woman with a pyramidal-shaped object bearing the carving of an eye.

    "This is the Eye of Kaas. While it might not look much, it is estimated to be worth over ten million credits."

    The eight gathered Snatchers all stared at the hologram in awe, eyes glistening with greed. One of them, a one-eyed Abyssin, raised his head back to the cloaked one. "So how would the money be split among us?"

    "Evenly. About twelve percent each." The stranger tapped their fingers on the table. "Of course, they could very well increase depending on how many of you survive."

    The human Snatcher cleared his throat as he leaned back in his seat. "So when do you need this by?"

    "The sooner, the better. At most, you have until the end of the week." The cloaked stranger leaned forward slightly. "I trust you will have it sooner than that?"

    The man smirked. "Hey, have some faith. They don't call Trask Moran the best Snatcher for nothing."

    "Then let us hope you live up to your title, Trask Moran. My master does not take disappointments lightly...."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

--The Lost Light--

    By the time Skids had come to, Clutch was nowhere to be seen.

    He searched high and low for the red Autobot, calling out his name. Anyone he walked into, he asked if they had seen Clutch, only for them to answer in the negative. He had even checked the oil reservoir, which he knew to be the most secluded place, and still saw no sign of him.

    That left only two potential places: Rung's office... or the brig.

    Last he knew, Rung was still with Ariel, trying to keep her from visiting Rampage, who was being held in the brig. Seeing as the latter location was the most dangerous, Skids visited that first.

    Upon reaching the brig, the first thing Skids heard was Clutch's voice, speaking some sort of prayer.

    "Primus hold me as the darkness come near. Primus hold me as the cold takes a hold of me."

    "Clutch?" Skids called out, seeing the other Autobot's silhouette up ahead. "Are you okay?"

    "Stand back!" Clutch cried. "I don't know what this is gonna do."

    "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

    "Look, I'm sorry I punched you earlier, but I had to get away from you. It was for you're own good!"

    "What was for my own good?" Skids asked, walking towards Clutch. "Is everything all right?"

    "I'd stay away, if I were you," said Rampage, sitting in his cell nearby. "This is probably gonna be messy."

    Skids glared at him. "You can just shove it."

    He then continued to walk towards Clutch. The red Autobot was huddled in a corner, a hand over his chest. Upon seeing Skids, his optics went wide in alarm.

    "No! Get away! You might get hurt!"

    "Forget about me," Skids said. "Let's get you to Ratchet."

    "No, it's too late! I'm going to--"

    Without warning, Clutch's chest burst into an explosion of liquid metal, pouring out of the Autobot's spark chamber. Before Skids' very eyes, the liquid began to solidify and take shape. Before he knew it, he was left staring at a fully grown, newborn protoform, standing over a deactivated Clutch.

    From his cell, Rampage made a cooling sound. "Aww! He has your eyes!"

*  *  *

    As he listened to Ariel sing to the Ballad of Princess Adronitia, Rung dug through his collection of case notes, intent on scratching a mental itch that had been bothering him for a while now. Pulling up on what he had on Ariel, he turned on the datapad and reviewed what he had written down:

    Subject: Ariel of Sistex, construction date Cycle 8514.

    Trained at the Omnihelix Academy under General Browbeat.

    Incarcerated at Garrus-16 for destruction of academy.

    Assigned to the Azusa under Captain [NAME REDACTED UNDER ORDERS FROM LONGBOW CAPTAIN]

   He topped right there, frowning to himself. The Azusa had been a mere scout ship, if he recalled correctly. Why would its captain's name be considered classified?

    Looking over to Ariel, Rung spoke her name. "Yes?" she replied, smiling.

    "Do... do you remember the names of your crewmates on the Azusa?" he asked.

    Her smile wavered slightly. "Yes...."

    "Do you remember the name of your captain?"

    She thought for a moment. "It was something silly," she murmured. "I made fun of it one time and he got mad and threatened to hurt Sparkle..."

    "It's okay if you don't remember it," Rung said. "It's not too much of a--"

    "Quickswitch."

    Rung blinked. "Quickswitch?"

    "Yes, that was it. Because he had six modes and always cycled through them."

    Quickswitch. Rung knew that name. Returning to his case files, he pulled up the desired entry.

    Subject: Quickswitch of Hexadron, forged Cycle 7826.

    Served as Captain of the Hyperion (8819-9090), Azusa (9090-9113), Hope On Wings (9113-9689), Nominus II (9689-9812), U1 (9812-9814).

   U1. Rung recognized that name. It had been the original name of the Lost Light, according to Nautica, before their captain had abandoned them, leading the crew to rename the ship Lost Light.

    Quickswitch had been their captain, as well as Ariel's.

    But why would his name had been withheld? Why had he abandoned his crew? Where was he now?

    Lost in his own thoughts, Rung did not notice as the Lost Light jumped to hyperspace.

TO BE CONTINUED

"Some truth there was,

But dash'd and brew'd with lies;

To please the fools,

And puzzle all the wise."

- Josh Dryden, Absalom and Achitophel

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars II, Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

--Years ago--

    "Something has to be done, Hydra. We can't keep going on like this."

    Hydra sighed as she stood on the balcony, staring out at the dark clouds of Nimbus Five. "You're still apprehensive about the whole Ultra Magnus thing."

    "That was a major close call," retorted the warden of Garrus-13. "We came frighteningly close to being discovered. We're lucky Vampire is as stealthy as he is skilled."

    "What would you have me do then?" Hydra asked, turning around. "Things like this are going to continue to happen if we are to maintain the facade of an Autobot prison facility -- a facade which we cannot abandon lest we raise more suspicion."

    "What if we gave them a reason not to visit anymore?"

    "Elaborate."

    "We could tell them Nimbus' clouds have become too dangerous for any ships arriving and leaving. That would also prevent them from trying to investigate."

    Hydra sighed as she shook her head. "Knowing Prowl, he would probably still send someone."

    "Then we could use Vampire on them and have them 'confirm' it for Prowl."

    "No. No, we can't -- I'm done using mnemosurgeons."

    The warden's head titled. "Why? It didn't seem to bother you before. Not with Magnus. Not with your crew on the Longbow."

    "That was different," Hydra said. "That was to cover our tracks. This is... what you're suggesting is on a completely different scale."

    "Perhaps. But it's for the greater good, is it not?"

    Hydra exhaled, closing her optics as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't... I can't condone this. It reeks of the things the Functionists or the High Council would do... the very thing Optronix stood against."

    The warden sighed. "I knew your attachment to him would cloud your judgment."

    Hydra did not hear the sound of rotating blades until she was on the ground, snared by an energy net.

    "Take her away, Chopter," she heard the warden order as she was pulled away. "Lobe will know what to do with her."

--The Lost Light, present--

    "Clutch? Are you in there? I want to talk with you."

    The hab suite door opened to reveal a red and white Autobot. He fixed Skids with a wide-eyed, totally-not-fake grin. "Hey!" Clutch said. "How can I help you?"

    "May I come in?" Skids asked gently.

    Clutch nodded eagerly, stepping aside to let Skids in. "Of course! Please do!"

    Skids stepped inside and Clutch closed the door behind him. The blue Autobot then turned to face Clutch... and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

    "Really?" Skids muttered. "Can't I go one day without being threatened?"

    "I know why you're here," Clutch said, shaking slightly. "You're here to kill me, aren't you?"

    "I... what?" Skids shook his head, bewildered. "I'm not here to--"

    "Don't lie to me!" Clutch snapped. "I can tell when I'm being lied to! You're lying to me! Don't lie to me!"

    "You already said--" Skids sighed, trying to collect himself. "Why would I kill you?"

    "I don't know! I did as I was told, but with Prowl, who can--"

    "What does Prowl have to do this?" Skids asked. "Are you Secret Service or something?"

    "Yes, and I know you are too, meaning I was completely useless! Redundant! And so now you are here to bump me off!"

    "Wait. Let me get this straight. Prowl put you on the Lost Light?"

    "Yes," Clutch said.

    "And you've been reporting our activities to him since launch?"

    "Correct, although I don't know if he ever got them."

    "I see." Skids rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And the stuff with Swerve? What's that all about?"

    "Oh, so now you're going to play on my emotions, huh?" Clutch said brusquely. "Classics murderer behavior."

    "Hold on... are you saying the whole Swerve fan club isn't part of your act here?"

    "The only reason I volunteered for the job was because I heard Swerve was on board. Otherwise...." Clutch sighed as he, much to Skids' surprise, lowered the gun. "Oh, who am I kidding? I've probably been duped this entire time."

    "What do you mean?" Skids asked.

    "The only reason I became an agent was because my friend Artfire recommended me to Prowl. Since then, I've only served as a data courier and never an actual... agent, I thought maybe this would be my chance to prove myself. But since I haven't heard from anyone since I joined the crew...." Clutch slumped against the door, his gun falling from his hands. "They've probably forgotten I exist."

    Skids moved over to sit down next to him. "Have you tried contacting him since we've rescued him?"

    "Yes," Clutch muttered.

    "And still nothing?"

    "No."

    "Then I'd say you've been duped," Skids said bluntly. "Prowl can be a pain like that sometimes. I should know having worked with him for so long."

    Clutch said nothing, eyeing his feet instead.

    Skids cleared his throat. "So... the Swerve thing. You really are a fan of his?"

    "Yeah...."

    "Are you the only one?"

    Clutch took a moment to answer. "Yes."

    Skids fell silent for a few minutes as he mulled over this. Then he got to his feet. "Would you like to meet him?"

    Clutch looked up at him, surprised. "Huh?"

    Skids smiled. "I know he hasn't been all that kind to you, but that's just because he isn't used to people taking an interest in him. I'm sure if I gave you a proper introduction, he'd find you a cool bot."

    Clutch's optics went wide. "You... you really think so?"

    Skids held out a hand. "I know so."

    Clutch stared at the hand for a moment before taking it, grinning a real grin this time. Skids then pulled him to his feet....

    And was promptly knocked out cold.

*  *  *

    "Prowl? What are you doing here?"

    Prowl stopped dead in his tracks as he, the Wreckers and the clones stepped onto the bridge. Blinking, the Autobot cop looked around confused, rubbing the back of his head.

    "Didn't you call us here?" he asked Rodimus.

    "No," Rodimus replied, frowning. "Why would I call you here? I don't want you on my--"

    "Rodimus," Minimus cut him off curtly before turning to Prowl. "Are you feeling all right, Prowl? You seem... not yourself."

    Before Prowl could answer, the door to the bridge suddenly closed and locked behind him. Everyone turned to see Roadbuster standing at the control panel.

    "Roadbuster," Springer said. "What do you think you're doing?"

    "I... I don't know," the larger Wrecker mumbled. "He... he told me to do it."

    "Who told you?"

    Suddenly, as if out of thin air, Tarantulas materialized on the bridge, looming over all those present. Prowl stepped back in shock.

    "Tarantulas?! How-- how are you--?"

    "Out of all the things I've done, mass shifting is what impresses you?" Tarantulas let out a heavy sigh. "Honestly, Prowl, you are an impossible being."

    "But... but we left you in the Noisemaze!" Convoy exclaimed. "I saw you about to kill Pyro before he pushed me out!"

    "He didn't push you out," Tarantulas said. "I did. When I shrunk down and latched onto you, the force pushed you through the portal. I've been with you ever since."

    Convoy's optics went wide. "You mean... all this time... you've been watching us? Listening to us?"

    "Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying. Well done." Tarantulas then turned back to Prowl. "Anyway, now that you're all here... what say we all take a trip to the Floating Fortress?"

    "And walk straight into a trap?" Prowl crossed his arms. "I don't think so."

    "Don't you want answers?" Tarantulas asked. "Don't you want to bring an end to the Secret Order?"

    "You work for the Secret Order. Why would you want to help us stop it?"

    Tarantulas cackled. "Because, Prowl, thanks to you I can no longer impress my superiors. By having lost my base, my Chimeracons and Ragnarok, I've done nothing but disappoint them. But that doesn't matter now, because the only one I have to impress now... is you."

    "I think you already did that with the mass shifting thing," Rodimus muttered.

    Tarantulas ignored him, keeping his gaze fixed on Prowl. "So what do you say, Prowl? For old time's sake?"

    Prowl stared back at him, optics narrowed. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

    Tarantulas shrugged. "You tell me. I wasn't the one who stormed his friend's lab and threw him into the Noisemaze."

    Prowl opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, instead saying, "Fine."

    "Um, no. Not fine," Rodimus said. "Sorry, but we're not going anywhere until this monster is either dead or in the brig. Having one serial killer on the ship was already bad enough...."

    "Regardless of his actions, he could still be a useful asset," Prowl said. "Provided he isn't faking his knowledge on the Floating Fortress and is willing to give us details that Magnificus hasn't...."

    "We could still lock him up in the brig until we get there," Minimus said to Rodimus. "We already know where the Fortress is, based on what Rampage's told us. We would only have to keep him restrained until we reach the Nimbus system, which should only take twenty minutes."

    "That is a compromise I am willing to make," Tarantulas said, in that usual, sly, on-the-brink-of-madness tone of his.

    All eyes were on Rodimus as he mulled over this. Realizing he was the only voice of dissent here, he sighed. "Fine. But if he tries anything, it's the airlock for him."

    "Oh, don't worry," Tarantulas cackled. "I wouldn't risk missing this for the world."