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

TMC 9-7

“Do what?!” asked Trema to Llyra over the viewscreen.

“Accommodate the Metarex’s power needs,” replied Llyra.

“Our planet can’t do that!” protested Trema. “We no longer HAVE Borzonite!”

“Which is why I did a little investigation, unbeknownst to my father,” answered Llyra.

“…Isn’t that illegal?” quizzed Trema.

“And a small stain on my house’s honor,” agreed Llyra, “but Father has become increasingly totalitarian. A greater stain, I’m sure you would agree.”

“Maybe,” remarked Trema, “but a small stain cannot wash away a large one.”

“Then, what would you suggest?!” argued Llyra. Trema tried to come up with a good strategy but could find nothing. “I thought so,” remarked Llyra. “Amy, Sira, and Natalie have discovered where the Metarex are staying and I’ve found what Spasma is writing.”

“What do you intend to do?” asked Trema.

“A little…altercation will happen between Spasma’s party and the Metarex tomorrow,” replied Llyra.

“…Oh no,” muttered Trema. “Rings, help us!”

“There she is!” called Amy as Spasma entered the GEPHMR during midday. She, Llyra, Sira, and Natalie were on a high level walkway, looking down on the floor they were in when Galen was released.

“How did you know she would come here at this exact time?” asked Natalie.

“When you’ve spent all your life around Daddy’s associates,” muttered Llyra, “you tend to know them as well as him. Spasma’s a creature of habit. After a hard morning’s work, she deserves her glass of Drasma.” Spasma headed over to the Chef and ordered her glass. She looked around to see the Metarex standing at rapt attention.

“‘Why are the Metarex here?’ she asks herself,” chuckled Natalie, guessing what’s going on in Spasma’s head. “‘They don’t drink, they don’t eat, they don’t gamble, all they do is take up space.’” As the Chef poured her drink, Spasma asked him something that couldn’t be heard over the din, but it was easily guessed by Sira.

“She asks the Chef if he had seen a pad she was working on in her office this morning,” she mused.

“The Chef tells the truth,” observed Amy. “He hasn’t seen it.” Spasma slammed her hand on the counter and her face contorted into a snarl.

“She believes him,” chuckled Llyra, “but still hates that answer. The pad contained a draft of the secret memorandum she was working on concerning the lack of Borzonite. In it, she believes that, without the crystals, the Metarex will go berserk, killing everyone in their path.”

“She recommends that,” guessed Natalie, “if an adequate power source cannot be located, they should disguise the Yorkonium supply as Borzonite. The Metarex are fooled and they take a source that would attack their internal cellular structures, breaking them down in a messy way. It would still be quick and would eliminate a threat to Nebulos. Amy, how did you get her pad anyway?”

“Your wife taught me to be good with my hands,” giggled Amy. She then spotted three people enter the restaurant. “It’s Yellow Zelkova!” she reported.

“Flanked by Black Narcissus and Red Pine,” observed Llyra. “Even better. They’ve spotted her.” Yellow Zelkova held up a pad and Spasma made a swipe for it. Yellow Zelkova kept it out of reach.

“The missing pad,” giggled Sira. More Nebulans came to assist Spasma as she got up in Yellow Zelkova’s face and pointed accusingly at him. “She accuses them of stealing it,” remarked Sira.

“They say they found it outside their quarters,” answered Llyra. “Right where Amy left it. Good work, Ms. Rose.”

“Thank you,” bid Amy.

“How did you know this would work?” quizzed Natalie.

“An alcoholic Nebulan with a temper problem and Nebulans hating the Metarex as much as Cybertronians hate the Quintessons?” asked Llyra. “What other outcome was there?” The Chef tried to intervene, but to no avail.

“GET OUT OF MY WAY!” bellowed Spasma as she tossed the Chef over the counter and punched Yellow Zelkova. That did it! Nebulans and Metarex were brawling in the restaurant! Utensils were used to damage one another, the Metarex used the tables against the Nebulans, the Nebulans used chairs as clubs against the Metarex, it was a GORGEOUS row, as Professor Tolkien would put it. As soon as they could, people entered the restaurant to investigate.

“Daddy!” yelped Llyra.

“With Megatron and Dark Oak!” gulped Amy.

“You better hide!” urged Llyra. Amy, Natalie, and Sira shrouded themselves as Llyra came down in a way that made it look like she just entered the restaurant as Megatron fired at the ceiling. That got their attention as Dark Oak and Zarak questioned their respective people.

“I had to confront them!” lied Spasma. “They attacked…!”

“I don’t care what they did!” snarled Zarak. “You should never have let this situation get out of hand! Get out!” Spasma glared, then shoved her way past a few Metarex to get to the exit. After the questioning was completed, Megatron, Llyra, and Dark Oak joined Zarak.

“Why would Spasma,” asked Dark Oak, “be so stupid as to write such an inflammatory document and leave it lying around for anyone to find?!”

“Your men stole it from her!” growled Zarak.

“We are NOT thieves!” insisted Dark Oak.

“And Spasma is no liar!” argued Llyra.

“Keep your voices down, all of you!” ordered Megatron. He then put his arms around them all. “Our men need to see that we’re still allies. Smile and wave.” Everyone did so, but begrudgingly. At that moment, someone came in, a Nebulan male named Vorath.

“What are you doing here?” called Llyra.

“Presenting findings,” answered Vorath. “Lord Zarak, I have news about Galen.”

“Go ahead,” replied Zarak.

“He has displayed symptoms of the Disease,” reported Vorath. Llyra and Zarak’s eyes went wide.

“The Disease?” asked Zarak.

“My future husband?!” wailed Llyra.

“…If I recall, he is the last one needed to give all available data on the Disease,” mused Zarak, “and can only be cured with the binary-bonding process.”

“Exactly,” answered Vorath. Zarak considered his next move, then called Spasma.

“Come back here, please,” he directed. “I may have a way for you to make it up to me.”

“THE DISEASE?!” wailed Trema when Llyra delivered the news to her personally. Stylor, Galen, Sira, Amy, and Natalie were there with him.

“What’s the Disease?” asked Natalie.

“That’s a rather personal question!” snapped Galen.

“It must be answered,” urged Trema. “They ARE my sisters.” She turned to them. “It’s an illness, genetically passed on. It’s a recessive gene, but it appears he won that booby prize. His body is, very slowly, cannibalizing itself as a non-Mobian cat would when it’s old. It attacks the younger Nebulans and it has driven many to…take a mate without protocol. The baby would be born out of wedlock.”

“I will NOT allow myself to stoop that low!” hissed Galen. “I will not allow myself to surrender to my baser instincts! But…there’s a problem.”

“There’s no cure?” asked Sira.

“There IS,” answered Galen, “but I would have to undergo the binary-bonding process. With that done, the scientists will gain intimate knowledge on how to cure it.”

“Then do it!” urged Amy.

“Out of the question,” dismissed Galen. “The only one available would be Recoil, a Decepticon.”

“…And being a Decepticon’s Headmaster would put you under Zarak’s control,” guessed Amy.

“…Yes,” replied Galen.

“We can at least try to block that control,” assured Trema. “We can start with a…”

“NO!” roared Galen. Everyone silenced themselves. “I do NOT require treatment or the binary-bonding process! I can deal with the Disease myself!”

“How, pray tell,” argued Stylor, “do you intend to do that?!”

“There are certain meditative techniques,” insisted Galen, “that can strengthen my immune system. I will be fine if simply left alone! Please, let me isolate myself in my room, order a medical quarantine if you wish, but I demand that my family and friends allow me to resolve this affair privately!”

“…Very well,” sighed Trema. Galen was released to his room and the Witches, Stylor, and Llyra sighed.

“What are we going to do?” asked Llyra. “His only chance of survival is the binary-bonding process and doing so would make him a slave to my father.”

“We’ll come up with a way to save him,” assured Amy.

“I hope so,” sighed Trema. “Because, at the moment, I feel helpless.”

“As do I, my love,” replied Stylor as he embraced Trema. There’s a problem growing on Nebulos and successfully getting rid of it hinged on Galen.

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