Llyra and Trema were taking Amy clothes shopping the next day. Amy HAD considered using spells to shrink Nebulan dresses down to her size, but the shops had replicators that made a dress in her size. As she tried on each dress, she felt like a model on a runway. There were quite a few dresses she really like, so she got those. After Llyra and Trema both paid, they left the store with Amy on Trema’s shoulder. “I know you already told me this,” remarked Amy, “but I never thought a warrior culture would bother with fashion.”
“Even warriors need to know how to look good,” replied Llyra. Amy looked around and took in a breath, exhaling happily.
“I might need to make a home here,” she sighed.
“Many an off-worlder has said so,” mused Llyra, “but none have taken advantage of the opportunity.”
“Well, I’M gonna see if…do you hear that?” quizzed Amy.
“The sound of metal against the ground in a footstep rhythm?” replied Trema.
“The Headmasters in full Robot Mode?” asked Llyra.
“Too fast for them,” countered Trema. “They’re coming this way! Quick! Behind here!” They all hid behind a fountain and peered over it to see who the footsteps belonged to. “…I don’t believe it!” whispered Trema.
“Dark Oak?!” gulped Llyra. “Daddy?! Megatronus?! Wait, who’s that blob in the flying chair?”
“That’s Dr. Eggman!” whispered Amy. “He’s a mad scientist conqueror from Mobius! Sonic’s main enemy!”
“And I believe we already told you that the Megatronus you knew is gone,” hissed Trema. “That creature calls himself Megatron, Lord of All Decepticons.”
“Too much has changed!” snarled Llyra. “Daddy told me he had a summit going on, but with those three?!”
“I think he wants to assure Megatron of Nebulos’ use in the Decepticon Empire,” mused Trema.
“In any event, Galen needs to find some way to halt this,” urged Llyra.
“It’s his Council shift in two hours,” guessed Trema. “You could get him to wrap the Council in endless debate on allowing any more Decepticons on our world.”
“I better do so now,” affirmed Llyra as she brought out her communications tablet.
“I’m taking you back to my estate,” Trema said to Amy. “We need to warn Sira and Natalie of Megatron’s presence here and plan a method of destabilizing the whole thing.”
“If we had dirt on them, that would help,” sighed Amy. Llyra finished her call and returned to the two witches.
“Galen’s got a plan,” she reported. Trema then produced a bottle of Rock-rum. “In public?!” yelped Llyra.
“If he succeeds, we can drink to his courage,” answered Trema. “If not, we can still drink to his courage.”
“Lord Megatron, I’m mystified at your accusations!” protested Zarak. “There is no trouble here!”
“Oh really?!” snarled Megatron. “An Autobot sympathetic group on a world that’s a member of the Decepticon Empire?! The leader of said group being released when your daughter whined about it?! The leader’s mother having been involved?! That’s not a recipe for trouble to you?!”
“Our Headmasters are dealing with this issue!” assured Zarak.
“All I’ve seen your vaunted Headmasters do,” growled Dark Oak, “is enjoy the delights of their power too much!”
“After a hard day’s work, they deserve a little pleasure!” argued Zarak.
“Zarak, I have never known you to be afraid of anyone,” scoffed Megatron.
“You dare insinuate that I’m a coward?!” roared Zarak. He then calmed down. “You know, you did that when you were a stuttering Autobot that couldn’t pull the trigger when he had the chance. Perhaps that cowardice hasn’t fully left you yet.”
“And yet, I have Dark Oak under my command after a little trouncing,” replied Megatron.
“Must you mention that?” grumbled Dark Oak.
“Gentlemen, please,” called Eggman. All arguing stopped when Eggman spoke. “Let’s remember who the REAL enemy is,” he continued. “Besides, if they’re really doing nothing against your administration, Zarak, then, by all logic, they won’t do anything against your visitors.”
“…He raises a fair point,” conceded Dark Oak.
“Then we need to proceed with subtlety,” declared Zarak.
“I highly doubt the presence of off-worlders screams subtle to anyone,” snarked Megatron.
“Perhaps,” mused Zarak, “but I always have a plan.”
A Nebulan woman set down her pad, stressed out over the events unfolding on her home world. Spasma was her name and she was a Rookeel that had a tendency to drown her sorrows in alcohol. She got up to get her preferred Drasma to ease her worries. “That no help,” called a voice in her head, her binary-bond partner, Apeface.
“It works for me!” she hissed as she opened the bottle.
“It poison!” argued Apeface.
“I already have ONE voice in my head,” snapped Spasma, “I don’t need another!!” Apeface grunted, then silenced himself as Spasma downed the glass in one gulp. Drasma worked as something that wakes you up in the short term, but was still a depressant in the long run, lowering inhibitions. After the drink, she exited her office and proceeded down the hall to her chambers where her “lover” usually waits. Her son, Benak, approached her.
“Mother,” he called tentatively.
“Speak,” she sighed.
“L-Lord Zarak wants to talk to you,” replied Benak. Spasma growled.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“In the main hall,” reported Benak. She then strode off to the main hall to see Zarak sitting in a chair.
“May I help you, My Lord?” she asked.
“You are aware of our alien visitors, correct?” quizzed Zarak.
“You told all of us Headmasters,” replied Spasma. “Metarex, a human, and Megatron’s retinue, right?”
“It’s about the Metarex’s needs,” answered Zarak. “They require Borzonite crystals to gain power.”
“It’s rare on this world,” muttered Spasma, “practically nonexistent. My mines are exhausted.”
“…Regrettable,” sighed Zarak. “I will need a proposal in two days to help accommodate the Metarex. See to it at once.”
“Yes, My Lord,” confirmed Spasma as she knelt down. “You honor my house with your presence.” She kissed Zarak’s ring and Zarak departed. Spasma decided to forgo her tryst with her lover and returned to her office.
“Can’t exactly help Metarex,” mused Apeface. “We no have crystals.”
“I’m painfully aware of that!” snapped Spasma. “If we don’t…if we don’t…”
“…No!” wailed Apeface. “Me know your thoughts! Spasma, no!”
“Spasma, yes!” declared Spasma. She then got her pad out and started writing up a draft.