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

THE DRAGON'S CLAW, PART III

    Black eyes nearly bulged from their sunken sockets. A large, three-fingered hand clumsily removed the hookah pipe lodged into the Chevin's low-hanging jaw.

    "Dead? What do you mean he's dead?"

    An exasperated look crossed the face of the holographic woman in front of him. Her own eyes rolled as she said, "His droid self-destructed, killing him and destroying the cantina we were in."

    "You're sure he's dead? I mean, you obviously survived...."

    "Yes. Because I ran. I hear a ticking bomb and I run. Typical survival trait."

    "Don't get snarky with me, human." Returning the pipe to his mouth, the Chevin took another puff before removing it again. "So you still have the artifact?"

    "Yes. The two Blarinas never showed up anyway."

    "So let me get this straight: Malvis hired you to get this artifact, but instead of getting it yourself, you hire a down-on-its-luck criminal 'empire' to hire rowdy pirates to get the artifact to trade with no-name Blarinas to get whatever it was they were selling." The Chevin waved a hand wildly to express his disbelief, since he was unable to shake his head. "Maybe the smoke's getting to me, but that makes no sense."

    "The artifact was in the hands of a Hutt. I thought the Cabal wanted as little direct interaction with them as possible."

    "That might be how Alazar did things, but not Hahgalor Mos!" The Chevin banged on his sidetable to emphasize his point, though all it did was knock the jar he was smoking from to the ground. It shattered into a million pieces, covering the stone floor with glass and liquid intoxicants. While Chev servants scrambled to clean up the mess, Hahgalor proceeded as if nothing had happened.

    "I do not fear those spineless slugs!" he declared boldly. "If it were me calling the shots, I'd have stormed that Hutt's palace and turn the whole place on its head while I bashed his!"

    "Yes, I'm sure your method would have been far more efficient," Valrisa said dryly. "Anyway, going back to the subject of Alazar...."

    "What about him? He's dead now, isn't he? Good riddance to him, I say."

    "So you're not the least bit concerned that a droid of his self-destructed without warning?"

    "Bah!" Hahgalor snorted. "Wouldn't surprise me if he crossed a couple of wires wrong, being the idiot that he is. Was."

    "Really?" Valrisa smirked, arching an eyebrow. "You do know that all droids used by the Cabal were made or supplied by Alazar, right?"

    Hahgalor blinked. "Wait, really?" Muting the comm, he looked over to one of his Chev servants, standing to his right. "Brophar, do we have any droids?"

    "Yes, master," replied the pale-skinned humanoid. "At present, we have approximately seventy battle droids, fifty-five--"

    "I don't care how many we have," Hahgalor snarled. "I just want to know if they were from Alazar!"

    Brophar thought for a moment. "Well, the last few shipments have been from Altech Industries rather than Talavos Corporation--"

    Relief washed over Hahgalor's elongated features. "Ah, good!"

    "Except--"

    Ignoring the servant, the Chevin returned his attention to Valrisa's hologram. "Not to worry, human. All of my droids have been from my own vendors."

    "Well, that's a relief," Valrisa said, not at all sounding relieved. "However, that still leaves thousands of droids being used by the Cabal susceptible to spontaneous destruction."

    "Ah, I'll pass it along." Next to Hahgalor, his servants had replaced the broken hookah and he eagerly went in for another puff, the smoke emitting from his large nostrils as he exhaled. "And the artifact? What do you plan on doing with that?"

    "Depends. I'm currently looking for the highest bidder on it. You're welcome to weigh in yourself."

    Hahgalor took a moment to think. "Eh. Why not? I've got extra room in my dungeon."

    Valrisa nodded. "Great. The auction will be on Ord Talavos in two days."

    "I'll be there."

    Once the hologram fizzed out of existence, Hahgalor looked over to Brophar, who was quaking in his boots. "What?" the Chevin growled. "What's gotten you all worked up?"

    "M-master," the Chev stuttered. "Altech Industries is a subsidiary of Talavos Corporation."

    "Yeah? Lots of companies are. We've got dozens of subsidiaries."

    "But, master... Vasim Alazar was CEO of Altech Industries when it joined."

    Hahgalor's mouth hung open, the hookah pipe still hooked around it. "Is he... was he still CEO when he died?"

    "No, he passed the company off to a Gossam named Xiri Gan. However, all droids produced by them are based off his blueprints."

    Rage and confusion warped the Chevin's features. "Why didn't you tell me?" he bellowed.

    "I tried to--"

    "Bah!" Pushing Brophar aside, Hahgalor descended from his throne. "Inchef! Afree! Find all of the droids in the vicinity and shut them down before they blow up or... or... whatever."

    As the two servants scrambled away, he then turned back to Brophar. "Contact Altech Industries immediately," he said in a low rumble. "I need to get to the bottom of this."

--Elsewhere--

    The ship had landed ten feet away, having braved the storms to reach its destination. Rain glistened from its black hull as a ramp lowered and hooded figures began pouring out.

    Lyra Voran inhaled sharply. She saw him among the seven approaching; even through the rain and his hood, she could not mistake his features. She had hoped that it would not come to this; that he would not betray them like this.

    This was not the father she knew.

    Through the Force, she heard her mother's voice. Your father is gone, dear. Consumed by the dark side.

    Do we not follow the dark side as well? Lyra responded.

    Follow, yes. But not bow. We let it lead us, guide us, but not control us like many before. We are stronger than most Sith. Your father, it would seem, is not.

    Tears rolled down her blue cheeks. I don't want to do this.

    You must, her mother insisted. It is your destiny. We must protect our knowledge from men like the one he now follows.

    Why didn't you destroy it? Like Lady Sedriss asked?

    That, her mother did not answer. Instead, she simply said: Go, my daughter. Defend our honor. Protect the future of the Sith.

    With that, the voice of Lady Saarai fell silent. Taking a deep breath, Lyra wiped the tears from her eyes and stepped out into the rain.

*  *  *

    The Sith Temple of Jaguada laid straight ahead. Made from the ruins of a fortress built by Darth Gravid over six hundred years ago, the temple served as a safehouse for the holocrons and relics acquired by the Sith Order of Sedriss. While not complete, its collection of Sith artifacts would prove useful to Darth Krayt's budding empire.

    Only one person stood in the way between the Sith and their destination, and Mar Voran could see her standing in the rain up ahead.

    He almost couldn't believe it; the fact that his wife would throw their daughter at seven dangerous Sith like this. Then again, Lady Saarai had always put her library before family. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised.

    Standing right behind him, he heard Naaro Viin rasp into his ear. "Who is that, Voran?"

    Voran stared at the young Chagrian woman that awaited them. "No one," he murmured.

    "She is a fool to think she can take us all on her own," growled Haarkon Dak.

    "Indeed," cooed a stringy-haired female Sith. "Shall I be the one to kill her, Voran?"

    Voran said nothing as the Sith got closer to the temple. It took all of his will to hold his daughter's gaze as the seven Sith came to a stop before her. 

    A long silence passed between the two parties, the only sound being the rain that poured upon them. When no one made a move, Voran decided then to speak.

    "Lyra," he said carefully. "Please, let us pass."

    "No," she replied firmly.

    Voran's expression darkened. "You don't know what you're dealing with. You are not strong enough to defeat us all."

    "I know," Lyra said, her voice softer this time.

    Voran stared at her. Try as he might, he could not put any more force into his words. When he spoke, they almost sounded pleading. "Step aside now or we will destroy you."

    Lyra spread her arms wide. "Destroy me then."

    Before Voran had a chance to react, Haarkon pushed past him and strode up to Lyra, savage glee in his eyes. Unhooking his lightsaber from his belt, he ignited its scarlet blade and raised it above his head.

    All those present waited for him to bring the blade down. Seconds passed by. Then minutes. Still Haarkon did not move.

    The brutish Sith frowned in confusion. "Why can't I--"

    "Bend," Lyra said.

    Without warning, Haarkon was lifted up into the air, screaming as his body twisted in unnatural ways. The others watched on in awe and horror, some even backing away. Voran's mouth hung open in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing.

    Did Myna teach her this? he wondered.

    He was soon distracted from his thoughts by Haarkon's increasing screams. Feeling the others' eyes on him, he forced himself to act.

    Activating his lightsaber, he delivered a quick cut to Lyra's midsection. Haarkon immediately fell to the ground as Lyra lost her hold on him. Crumpling to the ground, Lyra raised her tear-brimmed eyes to Voran.

    "Mother was right," she coughed. "You are truly gone."

    Voran frowned at her. "Your mother doesn't understand--"

    "No. She doesn't. And neither do I." Lyra coughed again, her breathing becoming more erratic. "I don't think... anyone can under... understand why you fell. Not... not even you."

    With that, Lyra took in a sharp intake of breath... then went still.

    Voran gazed upon the motionless body of his daughter, dozens of emotions raging within him. He forgot everything else around him -- the rain, the Sith, the temple -- and instead stared at his handiwork; the culmination of his fall; the result of his servitude to Darth Krayt.

    Had it been worth it? Was this really the man he wanted to be? What else would he have to sacrifice in the name of his new master?

    From behind him, Naaro and the others began moving into the temple. 

    He had a feeling he would get his answers before long.

*  *  *

    It could never be said that the Sith did not have a taste for the arts.

    Composed by Lord Myskos, the Ballad of Darth Maestus told the story of a Dark Lord who led a very sad, melancholy life. Unlike other Dark Lords, Darth Maestus did not rule over anyone. Instead, he lived alone in his quaint library, surrounded by books rather than people.

    Lady Saarai felt she could relate to that story; not just because she lived in what was essentially a library of Sith artifacts, but also because she was, in many ways, a sad old woman who lived alone.

    Sure, she had a family, but it hadn't done her any good. Even in her previous life, when she was Myna Tasseva, she preferred to spend her days deep within the Jedi archives rather than train or spend time with her peers.

    When she married Mar Voran, and with him had Lyra, she had thought it would be the start of a new chapter in her life; turning over a new leaf. Yet here she was, exactly where she had been eighteen years ago: Alone and surrounded by books.

    She had already long accepted this to be her fate, just like Darth Maestus had. And just like Maestus, she was about to meet her doom at the hands of those whom she had once trusted.

    Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if Lord Myskos had been a seer and had predicted her future through the creation of Darth Maestus, who of course had never existed. Their stories were eerily similar.

    However, unlike Darth Maestus, she did not plan on dying without leaving some sort of mark. While there was nothing she could do to prevent her collection from falling into the intruders' hands, she could still at least leave something to remember her by.

    The amulet of Jarak Null pulsated against her chest, eager to be unleashed. As the last few notes of Lord Myskos' masterpiece played out, Saarai gripped the amulet and backed herself away from the door.

    I'm sorry, Mar.

    Footsteps thundered from outside. She could hear the sound of lightsabers being ignited.

    I'm sorry it had to end like this.

    The door fell open with little effort and she threat the amulet to the ground, bathing the room in red....

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

--Paradron--

    "I have given you ample opportunity to provide me with a reasonable explanation on why you and your crew are harboring a dangerous war criminal." Landshark stared out the window of his office, his back turned to Rodimus. "You have yet to give me one."

    "For the last time, we aren't harboring him!" Rodimus retorted. "We're only holding him until we can find the Knights of Cybertron so they can--"

    "Do you really expect me to believe that?" Landshark snapped, turning around to face Rodimus. "Do you really think I'm going to buy that fairy tale of an excuse?"

    "Yes," Rodimus said, "because it's the truth. The Knights are real. We're going to find them and they will decide Megatron's fate."

    Landshark stared at him, as if expecting (perhaps even hoping) Rodimus to say he was only kidding. Realizing that the younger bot was indeed believing what he was saying, the Paradron leader sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

    "Why did you come here then? Why come to Paradron?"

   Great. It was that question; the one Rodimus had been dreading. "We were hoping to find some leads," he said, somewhat weakly.

    "Like what?"

    "Like... I dunno, anything, really."

    Landshark blinked. "Are you telling me that you don't even know where you're going?"

    "Well, we have a map," Rodimus said hastily. "Sort of. It led us to Caminus, but we... ran into problems there. We've gotten back on track since then and, well, Paradron was nearby so...."

    Landshark shook his head. "You aren't going to find anything here. Paradron's isn't a colony world like Caminus or Velocitron. We don't have a Titan or a Prime associated with us. We're just a simple society trying to get away from the madness. We want no part in anything grand."

    Rodimus nodded. "I understand. I apologize for embroiling your people in our mess. We meant no harm."

    "I am not yet convinced of that. Just let us apprehend Megatron and we will allow you to continue your quest."

    Rodimus frowned. "Are you sure your people will be able to handle him? I mean no offense, but given your pacifistic nature...."

    Landshark smirked. "Don't let our nature deceive you. We are more than capable of handling threats; otherwise, we'd have been conquered centuries ago."

    "Right." Rodimus' optics trailed to the window, where the Lost Light could be seen in the distance. "Should have figured."

--The Lost Light--

   "This is it. Room 113."

    Checkpoint glanced at Dion as the two of them and the former's security detail stood before the door to Megatron's quarters. "Are you sure you have this under control?"

    Dion nodded. "He and I go way back. I know all of his nuances and quirks, and have made the necessary precautions."

    Checkpoint seemed unconvinced but nodded anyway. "All right. Just holler when you need us."

    "I will." Deploying a bypass-card, Dion slid it through the control panel and the door opened with ease. The orange Autobot stepped into the darkened room and closed the door behind him.

    Megatron sat on the edge of his recharge slab, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. He stared at Dion with cold red optics, seemingly unfazed by the appearance of his thought-dead friend.

    "Hello, Optronix," Dion said, his smile warm and cordial. "Or do you prefer Megatron? I'm fine with addressing you either way."

    Megatron dipped his chin. "You're alive."

    "Indeed! Amazing, isn't it? I've had quite the adventurous life since Polyhex. You remember Polyhex, don't you?"

    Megatron said nothing, continuing to stare at Dion.

    Dion chuckled. "Of course you do. Who am I kidding? But for a time, I didn't remember a single thing from that day, or anything before. For many years, I was a completely different bot entirely. Tell me, does the name Sprint mean anything to you?"

    Megatron shook his head.

    "Exactly. It's such a nondescript name that at least five other bots share it. I was a nobody in the Autobot ranks for hundreds of years... until Sigma Seven."

    At this, Megatron's optics flashed, prompting Dion to chuckle again.

    "That's right, I'm talking about the Sigma Project. Your Decepticons had captured me a year prior on Magmus Major and decided to use me as a test subject. The first two tests were actually successful, sending me briefly to the Earth years 1955 and 1985 with little incident. But when they tried to send me to their intended target year -- 2015 -- something went wrong and I ended up eight hundred years pass the target; too far for the 'Cons to retrieve me.

    "As a result of traveling too far into time, my memories were wiped once again and I was left with only two names: my original name... and yours."

    Dion paused, waiting for Megatron to speak up. When the Decepticon leader did not, the Autobot went on with his tale.

    "Anyway, after I awoke on Earth and ingrained myself in the humans' society, I gradually recovered my memories -- as both Dion and as Sprint -- with the help of the scant records the Galactic Alliance had on Cybertronian history. Once the humans had acquired transwarp technology, I knew exactly what needed to be done."

    "You're here to kill me," Megatron said.

    Dion shook his head. "No, actually. I'm here to bring you to justice. The Galactic Alliance is all about tying up loose ends; once you are tried and executed for your crimes, the rest of the galaxy will finally be able to rest easily."

    "I take it I'm already dead in the future."

   "Actually, no one knows for sure. All contact with Cybertron has been lost for the past several hundred years -- by my time, of course. As such, retrieving a past Megatron from the last year any of his activities were recorded was our only option."

    "I see." Uncrossing his arms, Megatron leaned forward in his seat. "So how exactly do you plan on bringing me back to the future with you?"

    From behind Dion, a small blue Mini-Con appeared. "Cop-Tur here is a portable transwarp device," Dion explained. "He can open portals anywhere at anytime."

    "Such as here and now?"

    Dion nodded. "There's no need to make this difficult. Just come with me and everyone will be happy."

    "And if I refuse?"

    "Then I will have no choice but to force you. No matter what it takes, you are coming with me."

    As if on cue, Cop-Tur's optics glowed and a portal materialized on the floor between them. Megatron stared down at it, gazing into the swirling blue entrance.

    "It will be quick, you know," Dion murmured. "The trial, that is. It will be over before you know it. You won't have to suffer any more."

    "Who says I'm suffering?" Megatron asked.

    Dion blinked. "I... surely the guilt of everything you've done is weighing you down."

    "Guilt?" Megatron lifted his optics to meet Dion's. "You think I feel guilt?"

    Dion's mouth fell open in bafflement. "...Don't you?"

    "Dion, you haven't seen me in more than a thousand years. Don't pretend you can still understand me based on everything you've heard of me since then. I am no longer the mech you once knew. I am not Optronix."

    "But... you are," Dion said quietly. "You can't deny who you were. Who you are."

    "I am not denying it," Megatron said evenly. "I have simply accepted it."

    "Dion?" Checkpoint called from outside. "Is everything all right in there?"

    Ignoring the officer, Dion stepped closer to Megatron, closer to the edge of the portal. "Please. Come with me. Don't make this harder than it already is."

    Megatron lowered his gaze again. "I'm sorry, Dion, but I can't go with you. I still have unfinished business here."

    Dion frowned. "What kind of business?"

    "It's a personal matter... and it doesn't involve you."

    Dion opened his mouth to protest but only uttered a scream as he was pushed from behind and sent falling into the portal.

    As the portal hissed shut, Megatron rose to his feet and acknowledged Soundblaster, who now stood where Dion once had.

    "There are still those outside," Soundblaster replied.

    "I know."

    "Dion?" A knock sounded at the door. "Are you still in there?"

    Megatron outstretched a hand. "The Mini-Con?"

    Nodding, Soundblaster held out a frightened Cop-Tur and placed him in his leader's palm.

    "Do you have a plan?" Soundblaster asked.

    Megatron smirked. "I always do."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Six

EDITED 11/25/2022 Rewrote the Pyrobots' interaction with Stormshot because I've since realized I'm not the best person to trust with handling certain social topics with care.

CHAPTER SIX

--The Lost Light--

    "Are you sure they're still on the ship?"

    "They have to be. Ultra Magnus locked up the ship when he and the others left. Only Rodimus and Red Alert have the authority to unlock it."

    "Well, we've already checked everywhere. I don't see where else he could be hiding."

    "How about here?" Coming around the corner, Fervor pointed to a hab suit door numbered 791. "We haven't checked here yet."

    Kindle rolled his optics. "Right. Like they'd be in the very last place we checked."

    "Hey, it's worth a shot, right?" Walking up to the door, Fervor rapped a fist against it. "Hello? Anyone in here?"

    "Go away," came the sharp reply.

    "It's security. You've gotta open up or else we'll... we'll...."

    "Lock you up," Kindle said.

    "Yeah, lock you up. In the brig. Where the bad people are."

    Silence at first. Then, the door slid open to reveal a white and blue winged bot.

    "What do you want?" Stormshot grunted.

    "We're searching for a blue Optimus Prime lookalike and a gray, nondescript mech," Fervor said. "Are they in your room?"

    "No."

    "Maybe we should search her room," Kindle suggested.

    "Can we search your room?" Fervor asked Stormshot.

    "You won't find anything," Stormshot said curtly, teeth gritting.

    "She might be trying to trick us," Kindle said.

    "You aren't trying to trick us, are you?" Fervor asked.

    Stormshot stepped out of the doorway. "Look, just go ahead and search it if you must. Just make it quick and leave me alone."

    The two Pyrobots exchanged wary glances. "She could be setting up a trap," Kindle murmured.

    "Don't be ridiculous," Fervor said. "That is so stupid. I mean, she's an Autobot."

    "So was Pharma. Heck, she even has Pharma's colors."

    "Prime's uncle, you're starting to sound like Red. Plenty of bots have colors like hers. I even knew a bot with the same colors as Shockwave and he was the sweetest thing in all of Lower Monoplex. Let's just search her room and be done with it."

    "I don't know. I don't think we can trust her--"

    "Oh my god!" Stormshot snapped, startling the two bots. "Would you two just stop it?"

    Fervor and Kindle blinked in unison. "Stop what?" the former asked.

    "Acting like you don't trust me! Treating me like I'm a.... I'm a freak. What is it about me that registers as someone you can't trust?"

    "Uh...." Fervor rubbed the back of his head. "Your attitude, maybe? It could be the wings, except... no, that doesn't make sense...."

    Optics rolling, Stormshot waved a dismissive hand. "Forget it. Just... just do your stupid thing and get lost."

    "Hang on, I'm getting a call." Kindle raised a hand to his comm and turned around to listen in. A disgruntled look crossed his brother's face as Fervor crossed his arms.

    "Why does Red always call you and not me? Am I just not good enough or--"

    "Good news," Kindle said, turning back to the other two bots. "We're all wanted criminals."

    Both Fervor and Stormshot frowned at him. "How is that good news?" the latter asked.

    Kindle blinked. "Oh, wait... is that what they call sarcasm?"

*  *  *

    "Wanted criminals?" Rodimus stared incredulously at the police bot standing before him outside the Lost Light. "You can't be serious."

    "I am way too old to joke about this kind of thing," Checkpoint grunted, typing on his datapad. "We have been informed that you are harboring the Decepticon leader Megatron on your ship. Is that true?"

    "Well...." Rodimus groaned inwardly. "Yes...."

    "Then I'm sorry, but you and your crew must all be quarantined," Checkpoint said, putting away his pad. "If you have a reasonable explanation for this, then you can tell it to Landshark. But for the sake of everyone's safety, we must place you all under arrested."

    Rodimus sighed, realizing there was no use in resisting. "All right. Fine. Quarantine us. But I demand you take me to see Landshark asap."

    Before Checkpoint could reply, another police bot came running up to them.

    "Chief! There's been a--"

    "I'm a bit busy, Sparkride," Checkpoint replied sternly. "Send the report to Streetstar or--"

    "But, sir! There's been another murder!"

    Checkpoint frowned. "Another murder?"

*  *  *

    "His name was Skram." The purple and black femme sighed as she looked upon the deactivated car bot. "We trained at the academy together under Kup. I lost contact with him after the Exodus. I hadn't even realized he had come to Paradron."

    Sandstorm rubbed his chin as he studied the body with his optics, noting the gaping hole in Skram's chest. "Where did you find him?"

    "Just outside Beachcomber's shop," Quickslinger replied. "His wound was still burning when I found him."

    "I know what caused this," Sandstorm murmured, attracting the attention of nearby Paradron medics. "Infernus bullets."

    Quickslinger tilted her head. "Infernus bullets?"

    "They were created by Decepticon scientists on Varas Centralus, reverse-engineered from the Firecons' abilities. I know this because I was there at Varas Centralus with the Wreckers."

    Quickslinger frowned as she looked back down at Skram. "The Firecons were among the Decepticon arrivals we received last week. I remember Checkpoint butting heads with Landshark over their clearance.'

    Sandstorm let out a heavy sigh. "I respect Landshark but he is far too naive. It was a mistake to allow any Decepticons -- or Autobots for that matter -- to live on Paradron. Their penchant for destruction is too strong."

    "What are we going to do about it then? What can we do about it?"

    "Leave it to me," Sandstorm said, turning to leave the medbay. "I'll get to the bottom of this by the end of this cycle or so help me."

*  *  *

    "After you."

    With some effort, Cannonspring squeezed himself through the opened hatch and climbed out onto the Lost Light's hull. He then turned around and helped Convoy out as well.

    "That was one heck of an escape plan," Cannonspring commented as Convoy got to his feet. "How do you know your way through the vents so well?"

    "I didn't," Convoy said. "I just figured one would eventually take us outside."

    "Well, an improvised escape is better than a failed one." Cannonspring then narrowed his optics at the clone. "So why did you rescue me?"

    Convoy shrugged. "Honestly? I have no idea. I just... it was as if a voice in my head told me to. Like... I just knew it was something I needed to do."

    Cannonspring nodded. "I see. Well, it's a good thing you did; now you can help me find the others."

    "The others?"

    "Chaindrive, Clocker, Mainspring, and Pinion. Two of them I know are on Velocitron, one is on Junkion, and the other...."

    Convoy looked at him when he fell silent. "Yes?"

    "....is here," Cannonspring murmured. "Chaindrive is here, on Paradron."

    "Well, that's convenient. Where do we start looking?"

    Cannonspring's only response was to bend over and vomit at Convoy's feet.

    "...This is going to be a problem."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

--Paradron--

    "Heed the word of Primus! Spread the truth today!"

    "Those zealots still out there?" Gutcruncher asked as he poured Octane his drink.

    "Apparently," Octane muttered, staring out the bar's window at the group of bots handing out pamphlets. "I just got here so I have no idea how long they've been there."

    "Too long," Gutcruncher grunted. The green and yellow Decepticon then narrowed his optics at Octane. "You say you're new?"

    "Yeah, I just arrived here on a ship full of Autobots. We're making a stop here in our quest to find the Knights of Cybertron."

    Gutcruncher snorted. "Well, you certainly aren't gonna find them here. You're better off talking to the crazies outside."

    Octane smirked as he lifted his drink. "Perhaps. I honestly couldn't care less about the Knights; I just needed to get away from all the stress on Cybertron."

    "Well, no stress here. Paradron isn't a half-bad place to stay. So long as the Autobots don't bother us, we don't bother them."

    "Hm. I might have to consider renting a place here."

    As Octane began downing his engex, the doors to the bar opened and a black and blue spindly mech with a single optic barged in, waving his wheel-hands frantically.

    "Gutcruncher! You gotta come out here, quick!"

    "I'm kind of busy, Skidmark," Gutcruncher said. "Can't it wait?"

    "It's your friend Stratotronic! He's dead!"

    Octane hadn't even consumed the last drop of his drink when Gutcruncher went flying out the door.

*  *  *

    "It wasn't me! Swear to Primus!"

    Skids waved Whirl to be silent as he and the other stared at the crowd gathered outside the Friction Bar. From what he could see, a pair of medics were examining a body while security tried to shoo the onlookers away. The religious preachers that had been shouting earlier had fallen silent, clutching their pamphlets close to their chests.

    "So much for being called 'Paradise City,'" Skids muttered. "How could anyone have done this when guns are banned planetwide?"

    "And yet you're still allowed to walk around," Whirl said snidely.

    "I have an inhibitor claw on, wise guy."

    "Maybe we should keep moving," Nautica said. "I'm sure the officials have got it under control."

    "Yeah, it's just a murder on a pacifist planet," Whirl commented. "Nothing to worry about."

    "Swerve says there's a park nearby," said Tailgate, carrying his newly purchased hoverboard. "Let's go there so I can try some stunts on my hoverboard."

    "Last one there gets murdered," Whirl said, transforming and flying off.

    While Tailgate, Swerve and Cyclonus followed him, Skids lingered, still staring at the unfortunate scene. He didn't take his optics off it until Nautica gently tugged on his arm.

    "Come on," she murmured. "Let's go."

    He stared at her for a moment before nodding, walking after the others towards the park.

*  *  *

    "You're stalling, aren't you?"

    Brainstorm refrained from looking up from the databook he was pretending to read. "Why do you say that?"

    Dion smirked at him. "Call it a hunch. The fact that you pulled us away from Skids and haven't spoken a word since is also a major clue."

    Sighing, Brainstorm lifted his head and swept the park with his optics. Chromedome and Rewind were cuddling on a bench, far out of hearing range. Rung was busy with tweaking a model ship. Some blue guy was sitting by himself, watching a bunch of skateboard-bots race around. As far as he could tell, he and Dion were by themselves.

    "Okay...." Taking a deep breath, Brainstorm turned to face Dion. "I was hoping to put this off for a while longer, but I suppose there's no point in waiting. Just to warn you though, especially for Cop-Tur's sake, this is gonna get heavy."

    "Hey, I'm a big bot!" Cop-Tur said, appearing on Dion's shoulder. "I can take it!"

    "If you say so," Brainstorm muttered. "Anyway... Optronix is no longer with us."

    "Well, that's certainly blunt," Dion remarked.

    "No, no, there's more to it than that. See, after I... after you...." Brainstorm huffed. "Let me try again: about a thousand years ago, Optronix was captured by the Decepticons. While he was in their clutches, they corrupted him and turned him into one of them.

    "When he returned to us, he had taken on the name Megatron and executed Sentinel Prime and the High Council. Then he took control of the Decepticons and began a millennia-long conquest of the galaxy, which we Autobots managed to put a stop to. Then Unicron showed up--"

    "Whoa, slow down," Dion chuckled. "This story's starting to sound just a little bit too unbelievable. Dial it back a bit, yeah?"

    "As I was saying, Megatron then sacrificed himself to destroy Unicron... only to show up a month ago alive and well. He's currently on the Lost Light, much to our... discomfort."

    "Discomfort?"

    "Well, I mean... the thousands of years he spent trying to kill us all are still fresh in our minds. Wouldn't you feel uncomfortable sharing a home with a former tyrant?"

    Before Dion could respond, the two bots noticed Skids, Nautica, and the others arriving at the park. Seeing Skids give him a look, Brainstorm turned back to Dion.

    "Look, why don't we bring this to Skids? I'm sure he can explain it better than I can."

    "Oh no, that won't be necessary." Dion smiled as he shook his head. "I think your retelling was quite sufficient."

    "Um... good?" Brainstorm rubbed his neck. "Uh, no offense, but you're taking this a lot better than I expected."

    "Of course I am. Because I already know all of this."

    Brainstorm blinked. "What?"

    "Hey!" Swerve suddenly cried out. "Who called in the fuzz?"

    Brainstorm looked up to see a group of security bots on skysleds flying over the park, sirens blaring. As they hovered down to surround the Autobots, one of the police bots dismounted her skysled and walked up to Dion.

    "Are these the delinquests you reported to us?" the black and white bot asked.

    "Some of them, yes," Dion replied. "There's more scattered across the city -- and Megatron's on a ship full of them in bay 84."

    "All right, I'll dispatch a squad immediately. Clamp Down, get these bots restrained."

    "What the Pit is the meaning of all this?" Skids exclaimed as a police mech cuffed him.

    Brainstorm looked to Dion, optics narrowed. "You knew. All this time, you knew."

    "Did you really think someone like Megatron would have been forgotten about after little more than seven hundred years?" Dion replied. "Even in the future, member worlds of the Galactic Alliance are still recovering from the devastation he had brought upon them."

    "Then why travel back to this time? Wouldn't it have made more sense to go back to a thousand years ago, before he turned evil? I mean, that's what I did!"

    "And upset the timeline? Come now, we at Star Command are better than that. Besides, we didn't come back to kill him... we're simply arresting him."

    "Arresting him? Why would you travel back in time just to arrest someone?"

    "To bring him back with me, of course; to answer for all his crimes. You see, Brainstorm, by the year 2825 -- or Cycle 10625 for you -- Cybertron and all of its inhabitants are long gone."

    Brainstorm's optics widened. "You mean...?"

    "The Transformers are all dead. I am the last Autobot... and I am going to finally bring the last Decepticon to justice."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

--Paradron--

    According to the boastful sign out front, Beachcomber's Amazing Souvenirs For The Ride Home claimed to have a wide variety of collectibles from all across the galaxy. Just from Skids' initial perusal, he could verify that it was not a lie.

    In the aisle he was standing in alone, there were Forever Glass imprints of historic Nebulan sites, miniature Femaxian structures encased in globes, and Force Chips with famous Cybertronians embolden on them. Hedonia could eat its spark out; this was the epicenter of culture.

    Looking around, he could see that the others were already enraptured by the selection: Nautica was digging through databooks, Tailgate was trying out a hoverboard... even Cyclonus was taking an interest in some snowglobes, of all things.

    Skids, on the other hand, had no interest in any of these knick-knacks. Instead, he was keeping an optic out for Dion, hoping the time-displaced Autobot wasn't getting into too much trouble. Last he had seen, Brainstorm had been with him....

    Turning around the corner, Skids suddenly found himself being grabbed and pulled into another aisle. Before he could say anything, a claw fell over his mouth as Whirl shushed him from behind.

    "You are not going to believe this," the ex-Wrecker whispered. "Look out the window to my right."

    Rolling his eyes, Skids did as instructed and saw a large sign outside. On it was a yellow and orange mech with large hydro-wings on his back and a wide smile on his face while giving a thumbs-up. Below him read the words Vote Sandstorm of Altihex For Paradron Leader!

    "Do you know who that is?" Whirl asked.

    "Yeah, it's Sandstorm isn't it? Your old--"

    "Don't say it!" Whirl hissed, covering Skids' mouth again. "If word gets round that I'm former comrades with someone in politics, I'll never hear the end of it! Slamdance will be hounding me for questions! Fever Dream will make jokes about me on his show!"

    "Okay, okay, I get it," Skids grumbled, pushing Whirl's arm down. "What do you want me to do about it?"

    "Just pretend I'm not here. Don't say a word about this to the others. If we keep things on the down low, then maybe no one will--"

    "Hey, Whirl!" Swerve appeared from around the corner, pointing at the sign outside. "Isn't that Sandstorm, your old--"

   "Arrgh!" Whirl hollered in rage as he sprinted down the aisle and crashed through the window. Transforming to his alt mode, he proceeded to ram himself repeatedly into the sign, eventually succeeding in bringing it down.

    "Sheesh," Swerve said. "What's his deal?"

    Skids sighed as he caressed his nose. "What isn't?"

--The Lost Light--

    "There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

    Sitting on the edge of the oil reservoir, Convoy looked over his shoulder to see Archforce walking up to him. The Optimus clone said nothing as his counterpart sat down next to him.

    "What are you doing here?" Archforce asked. "Is there something special about this place that I'm not seeing?"

    Convoy shrugged. "No, I just... I just needed some time alone."

    Archforce placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's bothering you?"

    Letting out a sigh, Convoy said, "Do you ever have dreams, Archforce?"

    "Dreams?"

    "Yeah. Or more like... recollections of a past life. A life other than yours."

    Archforce shook his head. "Can't say I have."

    "Well, I've been getting them ever since we left the Floating Fortress. I remember faces I've never seen before, names I've never heard...."

    "What kind of names?"

    "I don't know, just... names. None that I can properly recall or pronounce." Convoy fell silent for a moment before saying, "Doomshot's been having the same problem."

    "Has he?" Archforce asked.

    "Yeah. He's with Perceptor now, last I saw. Don't know if he's gonna tell him about the dreams or what."

    "Have you told anyone? Maybe you should see Rung."

    "He's gone down with the others. Maybe when he gets back I'll--"

    He suddenly fell silent and Archforce tilted his head at him.

    "You all right, bud--"

    Without warning, Convoy got up to his feet and wordlessly turned on his heel, rushing out of the reservoir.

*  *  *

    "Um, Ratchet?"

    "Yes, Velocity?" Ratchet called back as he searched through his cabinets.

    "It's... it's Cannonspring. He's talking in his sleep."

    "That's perfectly normal," Ratchet replied, retrieving an empty vial. "That happens a lot with patients who are under stress. So long as he doesn't start thrashing in his sleep, he should be fine."

    "Oh. Well, he's doing that too."

    Ratchet quickly closed the cabinet and rushed into the next room. Indeed, Cannonspring was thrashing against his constraints, muttering nonsense in his fit.

    "Pinion. Clocker."

    "He just started without warning," Velocity said, standing near the mech's bedside. "I hadn't done anything to disturb him."

    "Mainspring. Chaindrive."

    "Wait a nanoklik." Ratchet stared down at Cannonspring. "Those are names he's saying."

    "Are they?"

    "Yes. I knew a Chaindrive back on Cybertron -- I served alongside her during the Forth Vorsk Offensive. And Clocker... I swear I met a bot by that name during the fight against Unicron."

    "What do you think it means?"

    Before Ratchet could answer, Cannonspring suddenly shot up, optics wide open. Both medics moved over to calm him as he vented heavily.

    "Find them," he murmured. "Must... find them."

    "Easy there, soldier," Ratchet said as he gently laid the bot back down. "You're not finding anyone in the state you're in."

    "You don't understand!" Cannonspring said. "If I don't find them soon, then... then...."

    "Just rest," Velocity said softly. "Once you've recovered, you can bring this up to Rodimus. Right now, you need to rest."

    "But--"

    "Coax him back into stasis lock," Ratchet ordered. "It's the only way we can...."

    He trailed off as he caught sight of a blue and black mech standing in the doorway. Looking up at Convoy, Ratchet narrowed his optics at the clone.

    "Can I help you?"

    "Let him go." Convoy's voice sounded so much like Prime it wasn't even funny.

    "I'm sorry, but you are in no position to order me like that," Ratchet said sternly. "I only answer to Rodimus and Ultra Magnus."

    "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you though."

    The clone moved in a blur and before Ratchet knew he was on the floor along with Velocity. The medic lifted his head up in time just as Convoy ran out the medibay, carrying Cannonspring in his arms....

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

--The Lost Light--

   "So, what exactly are we looking for on Paradron?"

    Rodimus blinked, as if suddenly realizing Ultra Magnus was speaking to him. "Huh? Oh, uh, you know... directions to Cyberutopia and all that."

    Ultra Magnus frowned. "But do we have anything specific? At least with Caminus, we had the Mistress of Flame to talk to. In fact... why not just go back to Caminus, now that the Secret Order's been dealt with?"

    "Mainframe says we're a long ways from Caminus, and that Paradron is closer," Rodimus replied. "Besides... doesn't hurt to look around, right?"

    Before Ultra Magnus could respond, the door to the bride opened and, like a dark cloud, Megatron stepped in. Rodimus rolled his optics as he sunk lower into his chair.

    "Oh. Hey, Megs."

    "Rodimus." Megatron came to stand beside the captain's chair. "I see that we have reached our destination."

    "Yeah. Paradron. You might've heard of it."

    Megatron said nothing, staring at the metal planet in front of them. There was a long moment of silence between the three bots, with Magnus awkwardly looking between the other two. Unable to take it anymore, he looked back down at Rodimus.

    "So, are we all going down there?"

    "I mean, I guess, if people want to." Rodimus shrugged. "If some want to stay on the ship, that's fine. I'm not holding it against anyone. Especially after everything we've been through; I'd probably want to shut myself in my hab suite too."

    Silence reigned again, the three bots all staring at the approaching planet. Megatron then revved slightly before turning to leave.

    "I'll be in my quarters," he muttered.

    "I'll... gather anyone who wants to go and lay down the rules," Ultra Magnus said, leaving as well.

    "I'll stay here," Rodimus said. "Right here in my comfy chair."

    As Megatron and Ultra Magnus exited the bridge together, the former Decepticon leader glanced at the larger Autobot.

    "Did he just call the command chair...?"

    "Yes," Magnus said curtly, his expression stoic.

    "And... he's your captain?"

    "Yes."

    Brief as it was, Megatron allowed a look of genuine pity to cross his face. "I'm sorry."

    Magnus sighed. "So am I."

*  *  *

    "About time you two got back," Dion said as Skids and Brainstorm returned to the lab. "Cop-Tur's been getting impatient."

    "Where's Optronix?" Cop-Tur asked, hopping up to the two Autobots. "Did you find him? I want to meet him!"

    "Yeah, uh, listen," Skids murmured. "Before we can introduce you to Optronix, we need Dion to change his colors."

    "Why?" Dion asked.

    "We don't want Optronix to recognize you right away," Brainstorm explained. "We want to make it something of a surprise and, uh, need to set it up a bit."

    "Ah, say no more. Luckily, I can switch to my uniform colors in a jiffy."

    "Uniform colors?"

    "Yup. Watch." Dion pressed a switch on his arm and his orange and blue color scheme was immediately replaced with white and green with purple accents. "These were the colors I woke up with on Earth. They caught on so well with the humans that they became Star Command's uniform scheme."

    Brainstorm cleared his vocal processor. "That's... that's great. That'll work. Good."

    "Do I need to change my colors?" Cop-Tur asked.

    "No, you're good. Let's just... go out and... do stuff. Oh, and Dion, if anyone asks, your name is, uh, Sprint."

    "Is that to preserve the surprise too?" Dion asked.

    "Uh, yes. Yes, it is."

    "All right then." Dion beamed. "Are we all set?"

    "As set as we're gonna be," Skids muttered.

*  *  *

    "Stormshot?" Evac poked his head into the darkened hab suite. "Are you in here?"

    "What do you want?" came the bitter response.

    "We've touched down on Paradron. Wanna go out and--"

    "No."

    Evac's face fell. "But... everyone else is going."

    "I don't care. I'm staying here."

    "But they've got casinos and parks and... come on, it'll be fun."

    "I'm staying here, Evac. That's final."

    The blue mech's shoulders drooped. "Okay. If that's what you want, then..."

    "Goodbye, Evac. Have fun."

    "Yeah. Bye."

    With that, Evac closed the door and walked away, his head hanging low.

*  *  *

    "Okay, that's fifty Shanix for everyone," Drift said as he handed a bag of currency to everyone that passed by. "Remember: Don't go spending it all at once, don't blow it on--"

    "Where do you get this kind of money?" Swerve asked, examining his bag.

    "None of your business," Drift hissed. "Anyway, don't blow it on any sort of recreational devices or simultronics, don't...."

    While Drift went on with his lecture, Skids and Brainstorm discreetly merged into the leaving crowd with a disguised Dion. On the way out, they bumped into Nautica, who had her face buried in a data-book.

    "Oh! Excuse...." The Camien stopped to look at the three mechs. "Brainstorm? You're coming with us? I thought you hated leaving your lab."

    "Uh, well...." Brainstorm rubbed the back of his head. "I just thought it wouldn't hurt to... get out once and a while."

    She smiled. "Well, I'm just glad to have some familiar faces along." She then directed her attention to Dion. "Although I can't say I recognize you...."

    "Oh, this is Sprint," Skids said, throwing his arm around the green bot's shoulder. "Brainstorm and I just met him. He's a real hoot. Great guy. Wonderful bot."

    "Really? Can't say I've ever seen him before." Nautica shrugged. "Then again, with over two hundred bots on this ship, I shouldn't be so surprised." She extended a hand to Dion. "I'm Nautica, by the way."

    "Charmed," Dion said, shaking her hand. "What is that you're reading?"

    Nautica held up the datapad. "Oh, this? The Aestic Cybertronian by Dominus Ambus. It's a very good read. I'm already halfway through."

    "Hm. I'll have to check that out sometime."

    "Yes, well, you can always add it your bucket list," Brainstorm said. "Let's get a move on, shall we?"

    "What's there to even go?" Skids asked as they disembarked fully from the ship and into the Paradronian spaceport, where Ultra Magnus was speaking with the dock operator. "Do we have a map or anything?"

    "Where are we again?" Dion asked.

    "Paradron. It's a Cybertronian colony--"

    "Paradron? Well, why didn't you say so?" Dion beamed as he produced a pamphlet. "I've got a map right here."

    Skids stared at him, mouth agape. "How do you--?"

    "Uh, Skids?" Brainstorm nudged him with an elbow, pointing to a sign. "Look where we are."

    Skids moved his optics to the sign... and froze. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

WELCOME TO PARADISE CITY

WHERE ALL ARE WELCOME AND ALL ARE FREE

    "That," Brainstorm said, "is uncanny."

Transformers Regenerated: Prime Wars IV, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--The Lost Light--

    Skids frowned as he stared at the orange and blue bot standing before him, as well as the little blue Mini-Con sitting on the latter's shoulder.

    Looking over at Brainstorm, Skids said, "You told me WALL-E and EVE were here."

    "No, I didn't," Brainstorm replied. "I said two robots from the future were here."

    "Yeah, except these guys aren't... I have no flippin' idea who they are."

    "Oh. Well, I kind of just assumed...." Brainstorm shrugged. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

    "Hang on," the orange bot said, looking at Skids. "You know WALL-E and EVE?"

    "Yeah?" Skids raised an optic. "Why, do you?"

    The mech grinned. "Indeed I have. And so has Cop-Tur here."

    "Wait, what?" The Mini-Con bounced on his partner's shoulder. "You know my parents?"

    "Parents?!" Skids' optics bugged out. "WALL-E and EVE are you parents?!"

    "What's a parent?" Brainstorm asked.

    "It's basically the human word for caretakers," Skids explained before looking back at Cop-Tur. "So... what, did they build you or something?"

    "Of course!" the Mini-Con said. "How else would they be my parents?"

    Skids slowly looked to the orange mech, his mouth agape. "Explain. Please."

    "Well, first of all, my name is Dion." The bot extended his hand. "Second lieutenant of Star Command. And Cop-Tur's guardian."

    "Guardian?"

    "Yeah, WALL-E and EVE trusted me with looking over their son while they're vacationing in Paradise City. Since I was off-world on Cop-Tur's tenth birthday, I've decided to make up for it by taking him on a time trip."

    "Time trip? Birthday? Paradise City?!"

    "Yup! 'Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty.' Heck of a slogan. I wonder how they came up with it...."

    While Skids was busy babbling in incredulty, Brainstorm fixed Dion with a skeptical look. "Can we back up on the time trip thing? Are you saying that time machines are, like, commonplace in the future?"

    "Of course!" Dion said. "Most of it is thanks to our business deal with the Space Patrol Delta, who had gotten their hands on Troobian tech. If it hadn't been for that, I wouldn't be talking to you now... nor would this little guy have been built." He gave Cop-Tur a loving pat on the head.

    "Okay, I'm just going to pretend I understood any of that." Brainstorm rubbed his head. "So why did you travel to this time, to this place, of all times and places?"

    "Well, I wasn't aiming for this location in particular. See, I'm going off a name that I've had recorded in my databanks since I woke up on Earth. My memories of the person in question are vague, but I was hoping to meet him or her."

    "Okay... but why this time?"

    "Our time machines can detect hot spots of activity for a particular person throughout history. The year 2015 -- or Cycle 9815 for us Cybertronians -- is the latest hot spot recorded for this name."

    "Which would be...?"

    "Optronix."

    At this, Skids froze up, his face paling in horror. Brainstorm on the other hand merely nodded.

    "I see. Would you two mind waiting in here while Skids and I go fetch him for you?"

    Dion shook his head. "Not at all."

    "Good. Be back in a jiffy."

    With that, Brainstorm quickly ushered himself and Skids out of the lab, closing the door behind them. Brainstorm then let out a long sigh.

    "I have fragged up so very, very badly."

    "What do you mean?" Skids asked. "Are you saying you have something to do with this?"

    "Why don't we take a little walk?" Brainstorm said, putting a hand on Skids shoulder. "See, it all started with an idiot and his briefcase...."

*  *  *

    "Easy does it now, easy does it...."

    Nightbeat winced as Cannonspring hurled again, creating another puddle of energon on the floor. Helping him into the medibay, he called out Ratchet's name and the Autobot medic rushed over to help Cannonspring to a berth.

    "Velocity, fetch me a pair of destabilizers!" Ratchet called to the teal Camien medic. "Nightbeat, best if you stand back."

    Nightbeat complied and watched as Ratchet and Velocity worked on the ailing Cannonspring, performing various tests and scans on the gray bot. Once they were done, Velocity gently coaxed Cannonspring into stasis lock while Ratchet walked up to Nightbeat with a preliminary report.

    "From the looks of things, it appears to be spark stress," Ratchet said. "His spark chamber is strained, which is applying pressure on his fuel tank and causing... this."

    "Do you know what's causing the spark stress in the first place?" Nightbeat asked.

    Ratchet shook his head. "It's more common among soldiers, as a result from too many years in combat. But I know that's not the case with Cannonspring here." The medic then tilted his head. "Didn't you tell me he was budded?"

    "Yes, I tried to talk to him, but he was pretty tight-lipped about it. All I know is that Clutch died from the process."

    "Well, I'm not that knowledgeable on budding, so...." Ratchet sighed as he shrugged. "I'll continue to perform more tests on him, once he's gotten some rest. He seems fine at the moment though...."

    Nightbeat nodded. "All right. Thank you for your help, Ratchet."

    "Don't mention it. Oh, and before you go...." The medic moved over to a table and picked up a small box, handing it to Nightbeat. "Drop this by First Aid's door when you get the chance. Don't bother knocking; he'll pick it up when he's ready."

    "Is he still upset over Ambulon's death?"

    Ratchet nodded. "Haven't seen him since the memorial services. I'm hoping this'll get him out of his shell."

    "What is it?"

    "That's not for you to know. Sorry, just... make sure you get this to him."

    "Don't worry," Nightbeat said as he headed out the door. "I will."

*  *  *

    "So why did you drop Dion off in the future after you erased his memories?"

    "I didn't!" Brainstorm said as he walked alongside Skids. "After I wiped his mind, I released him back into Rodion with a different name and color scheme, so no one would recognize him and screw up my plans."

    "What name did you give him?"

    "Argh, I don't remember. Something bland and generic. Same thing with his colors; something drab and monochromatic that would help him blend into the background. Bottom line is: I have no idea how he ended up on Earth, let alone in the future."

    "I see." Skids came to a halt and turned to face Brainstorm. "So how should we go about this? Should we tell Ultra Magnus?"

    "Ultra Magnus? Are you crazy?" Brainstorm shook his head. "If it were up to him, my aft would be off this ship the moment I opened my briefcase. I'm lucky to have been allowed back on. This would just--"

    "Well, who else do we tell? Rodimus has been in bit of a mood lately and I don't think Drift would be of much help. That just leaves--"

    "Uh uh. No way. You can't be seriously suggesting.... No. Not gonna happen."

    Skids frowned. "He's gonna find out eventually."

    "Find out what eventually?"

    Brainstorm shrieked as he and Skids whirled around to see Archforce standing behind them. Clutching his chest, Brainstorm at the Megatron clone furiously.

    "Don't... do that! Do you have any idea how uncannily you sound like him?"

    "Like who? Megatron?" Archforce shrugged. "I don't see how it's much of a surprise, considering... you know."

    "Does he know about you?" Skids asked, hoping to change the subject. "Like, have you had the chance to talk with him or anything?"

    "Not really." Archforce rubbed the back of his head. "To be honest, I've been kind of... scared to."

    "We don't blame you," Brainstorm said. "Really, we don't."

    "What about Convoy?" Skids asked. "Has he encountered Megatron yet?"

    "I don't know. In fact, I don't know where he is right now. I was hopping either of you had seen him."

    "ATTENTION! ATTENTION!" a boisterous voice rang from the intercom. "ALL HANDS ON DECK! WE HAVE REACHED PARADRON! REPEAT: WE HAVE REACHED PARADRON!"

    Brainstorm frowned. "Why are we going to Paradron again?"

    "Official answer: To continue the quest," Skids muttered. "Unofficial answer: ...We're lost again."