Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 9: Amy’s Alien Adventures)

TMC 9-4

Trema’s butler, Lorko, approached the landing pad as the ramp came down. He looked distressed. “Un Rala!” (My Lady!) he wailed. “Le rodane, tami cori!” (Is needed, your help!)

“I am aware of my son’s predicament,” replied Trema. “I came here as soon as I heard.”

“Not your son,” answered Lorko, “your other spouses! They disappeared! Lady Grax says she has business concerning them! She’s here now!”

“Of course, she is,” snarled Trema. “Let me see her.”

“Right here,” called a voice. A female Nebulan came forward, dressed as lavishly as Llyra, but allowing her cybernetics to be shown. She was accompanied by a Nebulan man that Amy was familiar with. The man was also outfitted with the same cybernetics.

“I never pegged you to be binary-bonded with anyone,” growled Trema to the woman, Grax.

“My partner, Skullcruncher,” replied Grax, “is quite the Rival Eliminator.”

“And then there’s you!” hissed Amy as she pointed to the man.

“Do I know you?” asked the man.

“We met on Mobius!” answered Amy. “You were working with Aaron!”

“Ah, yes, the Scarlet Specter,” replied the man, Krunk. “Tell me, what happened after the battle?”

“Aaron’s in prison! As you should be, from what Trema told me!” snarled Amy.

“I have Zarak to thank for that,” answered Krunk. “He pardoned me on the condition that I would scout out your planet to see if any wizards or witches could easily be manipulated to serve us. Regrettably, I was unsuccessful and so left Mobius after that business with the Eggman Transformers.”

“I’m always a fan of nostalgia,” interjected Grax, “but we have some business to attend to.” She started handing out data pads to Stylor and Trema. “The criminals’ signatures for your records,” she explained, “for the servants on your estate, and for our assurance that you have copies.”

“But…you haven’t even told me what the charges are!” snarled Trema.

“No, I haven’t,” replied Grax. She stayed quiet for a while. Trema rolled her eyes before getting on one knee and bowing her head.

“You honor my house with your presence,” she muttered before kissing the ring on Grax’s finger.

“Your son is charged,” revealed Grax as Trema stood up, “with violating Nebulan Civil Law, Subsection 1,008, Paragraph 45.”

“I’m not sure as I’m familiar with that particular part Civil Law,” remarked Trema.

“Then you need to obtain a copy of the Laws,” chuckled Krunk.

“Which YOU happen to have!” hissed Trema as she knelt again. “You honor my house with your presence,” she proclaimed before kissing his ring. He then handed Trema a pad containing every single law on Nebulos. “Let’s see,” muttered Trema as she started searching. “Civil Law…Subsection 1,008…Paragraph 45.” She then read the appropriate law. “Formation of counter-intuitive political movement?” muttered Trema.

“Your other spouses,” explained Grax, “have presented themselves to the Council of Peers this morning to explain the crimes of Galen, Son of Stylor.”

“What is he charged with?” asked Trema. Grax and Krunk said nothing. Trema sighed as she knelt again. “You…”

“Get up!” growled Llyra. “These idiots do not deserve to be honored by you!”

“Who are you to interrupt?” called Krunk. “You are a High-class citizen like us.”

“I’m not just any High-class citizen!” snarled Llyra. “I’m Llyra, Daughter of Zarak, commander of the Black Battalion! You will tell us what Trema wants to know or I will have you idiots removed from your current positions and sent to the Swamp Mines!”

“Not even you have the right to threaten us!” roared Grax as she and Krunk pressed a button on their left wrists. Their clothes were teleported away as armor took their place, complete with helmets. On the back of the armor were upside-down faces. Llyra then pressed a button on her bracelet and summoned her armor, not as high-tech as Krunk and Grax’s, but it gets the job done. Her opponents swung a punch at her head, but she ducked, grabbing their arms, then flinging them into a wall. She then strapped her Ban’grazas onto her arms and held them to her opponents necks.

“Now,” she whispered, “why is my betrothed, the head of the World Watchers, in prison?”

“I see no reason to…!” snarled Grax.

“He’s charged with forming the Autobot sympathetic Nebulan Destiny Movement!” yelped Krunk. “A dissident movement demanding a restructuring of the government!”

“FORAMI!” (COWARD!) bellowed Grax.

“A dissident movement?” cried Llyra. “My Galen?!”

“Typical Galen,” muttered Stylor. “He can be so hot-headed sometimes!”

“Leave this estate now,” warned Llyra to Krunk and Grax, “before I risk dishonor by staining Nebulos’ soil with blood.” Krunk and Grax tool the hint and fled in Krunk’s jet, or should I say, his partner, the Decepticon triple-changer, Snapdragon. As Snapdragon took off, Llyra considered the next move. “I need the history of the Nebulan Destiny Movement,” she declared. “See if they vandalized public property, assaulted officials, anything of that nature.”

“See if they actually harmed your father’s administration or if they just voiced their opinions,” guessed Trema.

“Most likely the latter,” mused Stylor, “if I know Galen.”

“Let’s start researching,” proclaimed Llyra.

Zarak, an elderly Nebulan, was finishing up some paperwork. His cybernetic hand wrote his signature onto the screen built into his desk when his intercom beeped. He pressed a button to accept the call. “Speak,” he demanded.

“Snapdragon has arrived with Krunk and Grax,” replied his secretary. “They wish to speak with you.”

“Well, I just finished my paperwork,” mused Zarak. “I have some free time. Send them in.”

“At once, My Lord,” replied the secretary. The call ended and Krunk and Grax were permitted entry. Zarak saw them massaging their bruises. They were back in their normal clothes.

“What happened?!” called Zarak. “Did Trema do this?! Because, if she did,” a wicked grin crossed his face, “that’s enough to keep her precious Galen in jail.”

“It wasn’t Trema!” hissed Grax. “It was your headstrong daughter!”

“Llyra?!” growled Zarak. “What did you say around her?! I told you idiots to be tactful in her presence!”

“Why are you blaming us?!” protested Grax. “We’re the victims here!”

“All we did,” replied Krunk, “was get my sister to show us respect whenever she needed an answer.”

“BALUKA!” (IDIOTS!) roared Zarak. “You were lording your position onto a citizen in Llyra’s presence! Do you know how much she values our planet’s ideals of honor and respect?! She would fight you if you lorded your position onto a Low-class citizen!” He sighed. “Did you at least keep your mouths shut on the charges?” The two shuffled their feet. “…I don’t like your silence!” snarled Zarak.

“Krunk blabbed about it when she threatened him!” explained Grax. “It was a minor threat!”

“You call a Ban’graza to the throat a minor threat?!” yelped Krunk.

“A Ban’graza to the throat?” repeated Zarak, his tone indicating he regained control of his temper. He then chuckled quietly. “I think we can use THAT to our advantage.”

“You’ve lost me, My Lord,” replied Grax.

“The dissident movement has distressed my daughter so much,” began Zarak, “that she is trying to gain answers as to why Galen would suddenly turn power-hungry. Thus, she will attack ally and enemy alike to get answers.” Krunk and Grax then got the hint.

“It’s going into tomorrow’s speech,” guessed Krunk.

“Exactly,” replied Zarak. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must draft said speech up. Despite the hiccup at Trema’s estate, you have performed your duties to the Imperial Republic with distinction. Keep this up, and you two will be Traboons in no time.”

“Thank you, Oh Gracious Zarak,” praised Grax. She and Krunk knelt down.

“You honor us with your words,” they bid. They then kissed his ring and departed.

“Llyra, Llyra, Llyra,” chuckled Zarak. “You should know better than that. A politician can use any event to their advantage. This will make the Imperial Summit in a week’s time easier.”

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