Uber-serious gratitude is extended to all my readers for their patience and I hope the story will remain as fresh a read as the day I first posted "Silent Scream". Also, the poem recited by Rusti comes from Ray Bradbury: "Something Wicked This Way Comes"

Transformers Dark Storm Rising

chapter 13

Yolthanis III

Ar1ee's consciousness surfaced when sound filtered through the darkness in her mind. She felt nothing from her body. Her optics dimmed on and perceived a world as blurry and abstract as the sound.

Someone shouted incoherently; drowned and distant.

Too comfortable to care, the femme allowed herself to relax and just be. Her optics gradually focused. Rather than one big blur, where six colors collided into one another, now she noticed a warm light. Dark and medium greens hovered above. The voice repeated words until Arcee surfaced to full consciousness.

"...now? ...me?"

"Can... now? ...me?"

"Can you see now? Can you hear me?"

"...sss..." Arcee's lip components failed to move.

"Beautiful!" the voice owner paused then shouted: "we have a live one here! She's awake! Over here, Director! Admondt, soltutus sor um chassik tol!"

That was no language Arcee knew. Someone laid a warm blanket over her and inserted a slow energon feed. Memories tried to pry into the femme's present mind but Arcee shoved them aside and concentrated on the moment. As energon seeped into her fuel lines, she gained enough strength to work her mouth. "...dream?" she slurred.

"Are you dreaming?" the (female) voice returned. "No, sweetie. Not a dream. You and your... erm... fellows? Friends? Companions? You've landed in Droskovak Valley. Made a dreadful mess. But at least most of you are alive. Oh, Director! I haven't gotten a name from her yet, but she's conscious-"

"I know this young femme," the masculine voice addressed both females with a smile. Arcee's optics did not pick up anything until the male knelt beside her. "Hello, Arcee. It's good to see you're doing fine. You're the first one awake around here. Do you know who I am?" She shook her head and he laid (an organic!) thumb above her left optic. "Looks like your optic nerves have been paralyzed. I see no damage, so I think eventually you'll recover. I'm Doctor Paul Gates, Arcee. Optimus Prime's friend? You've arrived on Yolthanis III. Just relax. We'll handle everything."

He turned away, his voice faded. Sleep replaced confusion and Arcee drifted into peace.

*******

Attention, personnel: report names and species of all crew members. Engineering to shut down all drive coils until further notice.

"Here. A fembot. Who's this one?"

Convoy lolled her head left as her sensors faded to life. Giant humans hovered around her. They ran handheld devices over her fallen form and spoke Trade Language A. Were they male or female? That very question repeated itself in her head as Fort Horizon's former city commander ordered her heavy body to move.

"Tellemus ai teinte. Osomo saven."

"Right," she grunted. Her sluggish head took several seconds before translating the language: 'Don't move. You might be injured.' She was probably hallucinating. Her fingers moved when she ordered them to but her legs refused to obey. "Aaaambient?" her voice reverberated as if she spoke through a tin can. "Status report."

"I'm sorry, Madam," a masculine voice replied, "you are the only person on this ship who's conscious."

Pain stabbed Convoy's main processor as if she partied too hard the day before. "Crap," she moaned. She meant to cover her optics but lack of coordination caused her hand to slap her own face instead. "Dammit!" she sang, "I hate space travel." Convoy relaxed six seconds before her next question: "is Cookies okay? Have you seen him?"

"Cookies? We're sorry. You and Arcee are the only Autobots conscious-"

In her dazed state, Convoy huffed half a laugh. "No, Cookies is my chinchilla."

The responders fed Convoy a small amount of fresh energon. She downed it greedily, hoping to get to her feet in a matter of minutes. But when the energon backwashed, the Razor Lady's captain succumbed to the medic team when they surrounded her. Then she lost consciousness.

Convoy returned to the waking world later. She lay on a more comfortable flat that supported her specific design as though tailor-made. Circular walls surrounded her and a sun roof hovered above. Precious sunlight indirectly lit the room and colored the air in a transparent blue. A transformer-sized humanoid entered and greeted Convoy with a warm smile.

"Hello again," she waved a hand over the femme's face then penned a message on translucent chart. "Your vitals are improving. How do you feel?"

Convoy thought for a moment then when she spoke, her voice sounded firm but tired. "I could use a good shot of Rocket Rubidium .49 circa 229v. How is everyone? Where are we?"

The humanoid female stared at Convoy with surprise. "You-ah-you actually drink that stuff?"

"Only on the really bad days."

"Yeah. Um, you and the Autobot Arcee are the only two who are currently functioning-awake, I mean."

Convoy struggled to sit up and failed. "What do you mean? Did we lose Optimus and Rodimus?"

"No-"

"What about the ships? Did we lose them?"

"No-"

"Did we lose the humans? What about-"

A masculine voice intervened: "everything is fine, Commander Convoy." The voice's owner appeared in Convoy's view and she beheld and very human-looking male complete with brown hair, white skin and a physician's white coat. He offered a smile before staking claim on a stool. "I am Doctor Paul Gates. Your fleet landed four days ago on Yolthanis III."

Convoy dimmed her optics with relief. "Something finally went right. You have no idea what we've been through-"

"I'm afraid your situation isn't that simple," the doctor frowned. "You've landed on Yolthanis III under the correct trajectory. But you've landed in the wrong time."

Convoy's face turned blank. "What?"

"Your fleet is here. As far as we can determine, everyone is accounted for. Unfortunately, everyone is suffering from damage by quantum fluctuations. We are working to realign those virtual particles destroyed during your transition."

Convoy dropped her head and pursed her lips. "Doctor Gates. Um, as city commander of Fortress Horizon, I have many talents and abilities. I am a smart cookie, as they'd say on Earth. But I do not speak quantum dimensional physics. That is cloudstreaker's job."

Paul smiled sheepishly and scratched his head. "Oh, sorry. What I mean is that the transition from where you were to where you are has thrown your physical clock off balance." He waited until Convoy shook her head, still confused. "Okay, let me try this: no one can live in the same time stream twice. Everyone's physical body is aligned in the time in which he exists. To step into another time line throws your physical properties off balance and in a short period of time, your body will start to fade."

"Oh." Convoy's logic center rang bells. "Wait a minute. You're supposed to be in the future. If we're in the past and you're in the future-"

Paul nodded. I left myself a note in the causality loop we experienced two weeks ago. It was soon enough that we were able to prepare for your arrival. Your fleet unwittingly crashed into this time period-three hundred years into the past."

Unable to smack her hand against her face, Convoy merely winced. "Oh, Primus," she swore.

Convoy and Arcee underwent the treatment first. After recovering from a tipped equilibrium, Convoy visited the medbay where their benefactors held all those who occupied the Quintesson central command building. Arcee tagged along, silent but observant. The femmes encountered Grimlock first. Floating in clear liquid, the leader of the Dinobots made neither movement nor sound.

Crossing her arms, Convoy stared transfixed while Arcee dropped her optics in depression. Even when a 'nurse' appeared to take notes, Arcee made no move to initiate communication. Convoy, however, watched the nurse's every move. "Tell me," the city commander said, "how long has he been like this? How long have they all been like this?"

"Since your arrival. I know it doesn't look like much but Grimlock is responding to treatment. We do not expect him to awaken any time soon. The damage was extensive and Doctor Gates is working on a plan for his recovery."

Convoy nodded in acknowledgment. "I understand through the net that they could not repair Grimlock on Bare Anches, either. I don't know the details." she paused, "How's everyone else?" Convoy glanced at her companion and laid a hand on Arcee's shoulder.

The humanoid deeply sighed. "Whatever room or chamber they occupied saturated their bio-symmetrics under fusion levels 129 to 153 either by some type of cold radiation or a form of dark energy we've not encountered before." she paused, studied Convoy's expression and tried again: "they are all comatose due to highly reactive conditions."

Convoy nodded, getting the picture. "What of Ultra Magnus or Optimus and Rodimus?" the city commander inclined her head slightly when the nurse hesitated to answer. The silence roused Arcee's attention and when the nurse caught the femme staring, she rounded Magnus' flat.

"Come with me," she invited.

Arcee followed Convoy within a whisper's distance. An unnamed fear held the femme in a constant state of near-panic. Arcee tried to calm herself but something inside, deep inside, refused to believe she was safe and among friends. A time or two, she nearly burst into tears. I am stronger than this, She kept telling herself. Yet no sense of self-reassurance assuaged the turbulence in her lasercore. She wanted to find a small place to hide and stay there forever.

They left Grimlock and the chamber in which he slept. Arcee kept close to Convoy and searched their surroundings with fearful glances. She tried to analyze her behavior. What made her so skittish? They were not under fire. There were no dark corners or things lurking just outside scanning range. Something crept in the back of her mind; something that refused to surface and explain itself. Maybe her memory lapse made her more jittery than necessary.

Whatever it was, Arcee's head distracted her from the bright, cheerful world around them until the nurse opened a set of large doors decorated with relief sculptures of birds. Arcee glanced behind them, half expecting to see the same dark foreboding dreariness as on Bare Anches. Instead, she discovered they crossed a bridge carefully strengthened with gleaming white, braided tree roots. An arching ceiling rose above them, also woven with tree roots and blanketed by soft mosses and tiny purple flowers. Peering over the side, Arcee took in the breathtaking sight of a waterfall tumbling from the tree's underside and far below it, a quiet pool of water. She shivered and held herself tightly. In spite of the serene beauty around them, Arcee felt exposed and hollowed out.

The nurse faced her followers before opening the doors. "Listen, what you will see in here may seem strange. You may speak to them, but they will not answer. You may sit with them, but touch nothing. Is that clear?" When Convoy nodded, the humanoid opened the doors and let the Autobots enter first. Convoy glanced left to right. The chamber welcomed them with a soft, muted light. curved walls of opalescence radiated sunshine from the outside world. The floor, polished smoothly, lightly mirrored all aspects of the room from beds to the equipment and finally the ceiling which held aloft a transparent barrier so that natural light blessed the room and all inside.

Arcee covered her mouth as she and Convoy quietly walked between patients. Fineliner. Blaster. Brainstorm. First Aid... in another area lay humanoids and the psychics. Beside them lay Ultra Magnus, Galvatron, Cyclonus and cloudstreaker. In an adjacent chamber lay the Primes, sheltered from the light. Convoy turned to cloudstreaker first and Arcee froze, waiting for the city commander to return to the main walkway.

One Autobot after another lay in stasis lock. Convoy could not awaken them to ask what to do. She wanted to be sure cloudstreaker still breathed. Her second-in-command lay peaceful, ignorant of their surroundings and Convoy hoped her friend suffered no nightmares. "cloudy," she said softly, "sleep deep and long and come back to the rest of us. I don't know what happened, but I'm glad you're still with us, hon." Convoy wanted to hug cloudstreaker, but remembered the nurse's warning. She backed away with a promise to hug everyone the moment they returned to the living.

The Razor Lady's captain approached the dim chamber wherein lay their leaders. Arcee stepped in but hung close to the archway.

"Hey," Convoy greeted Optimus. "Guess what? I don't have anything to report at the moment. All ships are down. I haven't done role call, supplies inventory or damage reports, if any. Nor have I done a geographical assessment of our current location and position. I'm sorry, Op." Convoy turned from him and stared at the floor. "I don't know what to do." she paused to collect herself. "This is supposed to be your job, you know. And um, joker over there, Rodimus, he's got nothing to say to me. So, um, don't be too mad at me when I screw up, okay?"

Convoy quickly wiped a tear from her face and waited until her voice sounded steady again. "Don't worry, Optimus. I'll do my very, very best. I'll take care of them. Just uh... just get some rest. Okay?" with a nod, Convoy looked to Arcee. "come on, hon," she invited. "We have nineteen ships to visit."

Doctor Paul Gates greeted the femmes outside the medical facility. He smiled warmly and politely took Arcee's hand then released it. "We're waiting for your liaison," his eyes blinked from one lady to the other. "I would be happy to escort you around but I'm needed here."

"No need to apologize, Doctor Gates," Convoy replied evenly. "You've done so much for us as it is. I can't tell you how happy we are to be among allies."

Paul smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "I like to think of us as friends, Captain. If you should-oh, here she comes!"

Both femmes and the doctor looked to Convoy's left as a metallic skeleton lumbered toward them with a very robotic gait. Arcee winced in light of the fact that the creature's face was little more than a mask with a set of light purple optics. In fact, the robot looked as though it should not even function. What was its power source? What about a fuel tank... of any kind? It certainly did not move gracefully.

Paul's smile switched from the ladies to the robotic skeleton. "Convoy, Arcee, please meet Senchee from Maosapis-G. Senchee, this is Arcee and Convoy from cybertron."

A triple-click ticked before Senchee spoke with a female voice. "Pleased in salutations." Three square digits extended in greeting. Convoy accepted with ease while Arcee hesitated a second.

Paul nodded and clapped his hands together. "Senchee knows the grounds and the people and the planet. So you can be assured I leave you in competent hands-er-units."

"Stop fussing, Doctor Paul," Senchee softly chided.

Doctor Gates smiled with light embarrassment again. "Right. Sorry. I'll leave you ladies to 'girl talk' and window shopping."

Convoy waited until Gates returned inside before making her remark: "oh, ha ha."

Senchee didn't seem to notice the captain's sarcasm. "What would you like to do first?"

"I need to make sure everyone is okay. I need to get recon and see if anyone else has come to life yet. I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?"

"Senchee." the mask tilted slightly right and lavender optics gleamed.

"Okay. First, I need to check on my own ship. Arcee, hon, you don't have to tailgate if you don't-"

"No, it's fine I-" the smaller femme pushed up a smile that drooped. "I don't want to be alone." Arcee found comfort when Convoy squeezed her shoulder again.

Senchee led the Autobots along a polished stone path. Tall leafy trees hovered above them like a natural archway. Little white flowers drifted in the subtle breeze. Convoy scanned, their whereabouts and detected the ships landed on an island approximately a hundred miles long.

"What place is this, Senchee?"

The robot ambled beside Convoy as the city commander rolled in auto mode. Senchee's long index digit pointed ahead. "Brondship Island, off the coast of Taktune."

"You live here?"

Senchee nervously tripped over her words. "I do not-don't. Doctor N'k Kaltietenith-no-Gates, Doctor Gates, he's always telling me to use his Earth name-no. Apologies." she clammed up a moment then started over. "Doctor Gates asked me to assist him in this assignment as needed someone who understood Transformer physiology and their technology. I thought it good opportunity." Senchee stopped in her tracks and turned to Arcee who walked rather than rolled. "I like to meet new people," Senchee explained. Her earnest reply earned a slight smile from the femme.

"Senchee, Doctor Gates said you were from Masofis?"

"Ha! Maosapis-G, Captain. It's little by Lyra."

Convoy slowed to a stop and transformed. She peered closely at the strange robot. "Senchee, I really need to ask: what are you?"

The creature craned her neck, copying Convoy's pose. "I am Automatron." she held up four digits: "Class Four," she added proudly. "We are a free people, now. We belong to ourselves."

curiosity roused Arcee from her depression. She stepped closer to Convoy, finding enough courage to accept the stranger rather than fear her. "Who did you belong to before?"

"No. We don't speak of them. They and their ships, they appear and then not and they steal us and they steal our lives and they make us live on their army."

The femmes tilted their heads, befuddled. Arcee spoke again: "you mean they made you into an army? Or that you lived with their army?"

Convoy's face spread into a smile. "Gotta watch those prepositions. Tricky things."

"No," Senchee corrected sternly. "On. On! Demonstration? No harm. No harm."

Arcee hesitated, "umm... sure. I guess." A surge of energy breathed life into the femme's fuel lines the second Senchee grabbed her wrist. The robotic creature wrapped her frame around Arcee's body, fitting over the femme's body in a snug but comfortable fit. Arcee gasped with renewed strength as if she'd been living in the dark and someone snapped on a light in her mind. Her senses awoke and she heard birds and swaying grasses and picked up so much-and all of it from miles away. Arcee touched the mask over her face. "Convoy, it's like... she's like a living exo-skeleton! And it's like... an extension of me."

Senchee released Arcee and stepped away. "We belong to us," she repeated.

Convoy smiled with delight. "Pleased to meet you, Senchee."

With a little more confidence, Senchee put an elbow in her hand and fingered her chin. "You said you wanted to check your own ship?"

Convoy stalled, waiting to continue, "yes, that's right."

"Apologies. I do not know which ship is yours. We will climb Clouded Hill." Senchee led them left at the forked road several yards away. The path changed from polished rock to pounded dirt. It wound up a steady twenty-degree slope, spiraling toward the hill's flat top. The three ladies climbed up and up until Convoy transformed and walked the rest of the way. Upon reaching the summit, her jaw dropped and the captain turned clockwise, catching the full view in a single sweep.

The medical facility sat absolute north. A forest of dark green trees stretched at the east. To the south, three giant waterfalls fed a serene lagoon and beyond that three great sea vessels floated off shore. The westerly side of the island lay dark and burnt as if a god took a white-hot poker and sliced the ground. Within the scarred area lay all the Autobot ships, assembled exactly as they were on Bare Anches.

Convoy turned sad. "I am sorry that our arrival destroyed so much of this island."

"No sadness, Captain Convoy. Nature adapts and heals its own wounds. Please, which ship is yours?"

Convoy wordlessly pointed to the ship far north of all other vessels, just as it did on Bare Anches.

Arcee led the way as she and Convoy drove fourteen miles northward toward the Razor Lady. Senchee rode on the back of Convoy's bed and although the robot's face depicted little, her optics clearly reflected enjoyment as Convoy sped down the pathway. The road ended and a grassy meadow spread five hundred yards between the Autobots and Convoy's ship. The captain reduced speed and rolled along the quiet vegetation until they reached the embankment. Twelve feet down, the Razor Lady lay with her landing gear entrenched in burnt earth. Senchee hopped off as Convoy and Arcee transformed.

Arcee winced at the acrid stench of charred flora, burnt and vitrified stone. Not one ship escaped the intense heat upon landing. The Razor Lady looked as if she were airbrushed with black flames from the bottom up. A trail leading into the Droskovak Valley made it easier for the three ladies to navigated the burned and ashen ground. Convoy scanned the outer parameters of her ship, wary as a deer prepared to cross a highway.

Arcee inclined her head, confused. "Captain-"

"SHH!" Arcee and Senchee held quiet as Convoy stole soundless step after step, first round the Razor Lady's stern, then her port. Fifteen minutes brought the captain back to her companions. "I don't understand," Convoy said with a quiet voice. "I was sure I heard something." Convoy looked puzzled when Arcee silently pointed behind the captain's back. Convoy turned round, expecting someone standing behind her. Nope.

"Convoy! Up here, Sweetie!" The Autobot femme raised her optics and found Grotesque hanging upside down from her ship's starboard wing. She stared until the Monsterbot swung his body up and transformed to monster mode. He flew graceful as a bat, hovered above the ladies a moment before switching back to robot mode then landed on the blackened earth. He crossed one leg in front of the other and held up his hands like an acrobat expecting applause. "Nine point nine-five!" he declared. "Perfection is beautiful." he almost said something more when he spotted Senchee. "Oh! Who's our new recruit?"

Senchee folded her arms and straightened her posture. "Not I!" she answered firmly.

Convoy laid a hand on the Automatron's shoulder. "He's only kidding, hon. Grotesque, this is Senchee, our liaison while we're here on Yolthanis III. Senchee, this moronic bozo is Grotesque, captain of the unfortunate Dancing Siren.

"You really haven't been on the Dancing Siren, have you? They love me. They think I'm kinda cute. And here you stand, assaulting me."

"You mean insulting," Arcee quietly corrected.

Grotesque bounced his head a second then two, mulling the word around his head. "Yes!" he agreed. "Like she said. So listen up, Lady Captain-"

Convoy cut him off: "how is it that you're operational when everyone else caught in the command center is still unconscious? I mean, Arcee here and I were told we were the first Autobots to activate."

"Oh. That." he forced on a sheepish smile when Convoy pinned him with a cold glare. "Well, they were counting heads, like we were little kids in some school. I didn't know where we were, who they were or if they could be trusted. So I snuck out, took a short walk. Then I saw you-"

"That's not answering the question, Grotesque. You were in the command center and everyone else is still out cold."

"Well, Madam Captain, I'd say it was my good looks that pulled me through. But since I don't have any, how about we settle with Monsterbot powers and leave the rest up to some miracle and be happy?"

Convoy's cold glare lingered a moment before she dragged her sights on the blue sky above them and shook her head. "What have you to report?"

"Not much. Nineteen ships present and accounted for. Three members are on their feet. com systems are up but no one's home to answer the phone."

"Three people are awake?"

"Yeah. You, me and the prettier one there." the Monsterbot pointed to Arcee with as nice a smile as he could offer. Grotesque squeaked when Convoy grabbed him at the collar rod and yanked his face far too close to hers.

"Lets get this straight, wise aft," she snarled. "cute won't get the job done. Try to pretend you're older than a Humanoid at age five."

Unintimidated, Grotesque extracted his person from her grip. He smoothed his front side as if he wore clothing, wrinkled by abuse. "Take it easy, there, girl," he returned calmly. "As far as I can tell, nobody's got themselves hurt. The ships seem to be in one piece and so far our hosts haven't maimed, killed or cooked any of us." He shrugged. "It's Yolthanis."

Convoy folded her arms and stared at him as if to read his mind. "Well, since you're so spry and full of energy, how about you run ship-to-ship and tell me what you find."

Grotesque inclined his head toward her as if he heard incorrectly. "Ehhh... all of the ships, Convoy? As in, eighteen Autobot ships each with four decks or more?" she only stared at him, solid and for-real like a predator. The Dancing Siren's captain dragged his optics to Arcee whose attention waded through nothingness. "Rrrrright," he finally answered. "I'll just sorta fly from one to another like a bee. But I want overtime pay for this one, Convoy." Transforming into his monster self, Grotesque flapped off, leaving the ladies as they were before.

Arcee did not watch him leave. She hesitated to follow Convoy toward the starboard hatch. "I think he felt you were a little hard on him, Convoy," her voice barely reached auditory level.

But Convoy heard her just the same. "Really? Would you rather that we listened to him all day long?" The city commander glanced over her left shoulder. "come on, hon. I have a nice stash of Protak and palladium bars in my quarters. Senchee, you're welcome to join us."

The Automatron's form swayed slightly right then straightened. "Thank you for the consideration, Captain Convoy. But I must decline. If you won't be needing me at this point, I will return to aid Doctor Gates."

Convoy smiled, nodded and led Arcee on board the Razor Lady.

Arcee tailed Convoy through her ship. It felt good to accompany someone who talked to her like an old friend. Arcee's insecurities clouded her objectivity and she looked to people as predators rather than friends or allies. She noticed her behavior while Grotesque and Convoy exchanged friendly banter. Arcee knew Convoy but distantly. The city commander once worked with Elita-One on many missions, though not under the fembot's leadership. When Convoy was not leading a squadron on a mission, she worked on her own, sabotaging many of Shockwave's attempts to eradicate all femmes off cybertron.

Convoy and Arcee descended to the Lady's second level and drove a maze of u-turns until Convoy suddenly shifted from her duly-truck mode to Autobot and gracefully jumped over a railing. Arcee skidded to a stop, surprised by the lady captain's sudden move. Transforming herself, Arcee leaned over the banister and peered one full level down. A spacious area met her curiosity. A large view screen floated several yards from a comfortable flat. chain link plants tinkled like living chimes when Convoy landed on the floor. A small fountain activated and several soft lamps illuminated the room with soft, warmth.

Convoy lifted a smile toward the younger femme. "come on down, Arcee, don't be shy."

Arcee's scanners searched for a case of stairs or a smooth ramp down. But the only way into the room was with a leap. With a huff, she climbed over the rail, dangled a moment then dropped. She landed hard on her feet and then on her rear. With a cringe and a flutter of embarrassment, she picked herself up and gently rubbed a dent.

Convoy didn't appear to notice. Facing the south wall she accessed a vault and produced two small boxes-two out of a far greater collection. The panel closed with a purr-click as the captain set the boxes on a long black glass table. A couch flipped up from the floor and the large view screen dropped closer. "Razor, this is the captain."

GOOD AFTERNOON, CAPTAIN. RAZOR LADY AT YOUR SERVICE. DO YOU WISH TO UPDATE CODES AND PASSWORDS AT THIS TIME?

"Negative, Razor. Two things: prepare a list and find Cookies. Arcee, hon, please do come sit down. You look very tired."

Cookies LOCATED, CAPTAIN. NOTE PAD READY.

Before she started, Convoy opened the two boxes. One contained brittle metallic wafers. The other softly glowed with finger-sized energon bars. She switched half the contents from one box to another so that she and Arcee had half of both boxes. Pressing an unseen button on the table, Convoy conjured two small glasses of .20-weight oil. "First on the list," she continued, "check on Daniel Witwicky. Two: check on Strike Back. Three..."

As Convoy's list lengthened over the moments, Arcee nibbled on the palladium. She failed to recall the last time she enjoyed such delicacy. Five bites later, however, Arcee's heart sank so that she no longer tasted the treats. She drank some .20-weight before weariness and gloom discouraged her from taking anything more.

"Arcee, hon, what's wr-" at the sound of a beep, Convoy's soft voice hardened with a snarl. She pointed at the view screen before them and the Monsterbot's mugshot appeared in full color. "This had better be good, Grotesque."

"Thought I'd let you know, Madam Captain... ma'am. Uh, I was just told that six humanoid post-embryonic forms have roused from their slumber and currently undergoing that... ray-thing that they did to me-to us-I mean."

Convoy glared. "Are you currently dealing with an emergency, Grotesque?"

"No, Captain, Ma'am."

"Of any type, Grotesque?"

"Well, I did have a nature call earlier. But my filter screens are-"

Convoy held her palm aloft. "No, I don't want to know, Grotesque. I'm eating. Since you don't have an emergency then you have my personal permission to go and deal with the kids."

"Uh... well... might not be so good an idea."

Convoy crossed her arms over her chest. "And why's that?"

"Kids don't like me much."

"Then tell them a story, Grotesque! Entertain them-or whatever else you can think of!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And don't call me back to whine."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And Grotesque,"

"Ma'am?"

"Don't scare them."

"Ma-"

Convoy turned the view screen off with a flick of her wrist. She settled back with sigh before leaning forward again to take her .20-weight. Just as she picked it up, a small helicopter-like device floated down. Its blades whirled with a soft hum as it neared the ladies. Arcee stared until she was certain a furry tail dangled out the toy's back end.

"Cookies!" Convoy cried. She caught the miniature device, turned it off and extracted her pet chinchilla from its confines. Convoy hugged the organic creature close to her chest as she set the pint-sized vehicle on the table. She held the creature aloft and stared into its large friendly eyes. "Hi there, little friend! I missed you! Have you been a good boy? Huh? Would you like to meet Arcee? Here we go!"

Arcee accepted the mammal whose coat had more layers than sedimentary rock. In fact, Arcee wasn't sure if the critter had anything other than fur, a face, tail, four legs and a set of very large, rounded ears. "I thought Earth chinchillas were much smaller than this," she said as the thing sniffed her hands.

"He's not from Earth, Arcee. I rescued Cookies from some underhanded sleeze named Dirk Manus. I saved that wretched con artist's backside during an undercover operation on Seticus. Some Quintesson loan shark wanted his skin for paying a debt with falsified metallic hydrogen. When Manus tried to pawn Cookies off as a rare and pricy specimen, I called him on it. Needless to say the Quintesson was less than amused. We escaped. Since I saved his life, I took the chilla off his hands. He didn't like me much after that. A year later, Manus ended up in Quintesson tentacles. I never heard from him again."

"So if the animal wasn't from Earth-"

"Oh, he's an Andvarian chinchilla. They're smart, funny-and will use a litter box if you provide one. They're very clean animals. Shockwave collected them for... well, wallpaper if you catch my meaning."

Arcee's expression: disgust but not by the story. She dropped her optics from Convoy to Convoy's strange pet and the unpleasant wet spot on her right leg.

Convoy burst into laughter, disappeared half a second and returned the next with a towel in hand. "Oopsy!" she sang. "Looks like you're now part of the family, Arcee! congratulations. Cookies likes you."

Arcee grimaced with uncertainty. She wiped the piddle off her leg and the seat. When Convoy offered Cookies again, Arcee quickly shook her head. She watched as Captain Convoy lapped the creature over her left shoulder, swept up her .20-weight and drained it like a shot of ester-acetate.

"Razor," Convoy called, "where were we?"

NUMBER SEVEN ON YOUR LIST, CAPTAIN Convoy.

"Right. Add 'request news reports from present-day. Number eight: gather reports on resources..."

The chinchilla temporarily distracted Arcee from the fog of sadness. But as Convoy added to her list (now on number twelve), Arcee's mind drifted. Something happened to her on Bare Anches but the femme found it difficult to put it into words. Wasn't there a voice in her head? If so, she doubted the voice was her own.

Arcee absently shook her head. That was not a good thing. Mechanical or organic, voices in one's head meant something was off or wrong. She tried to recall the last moment on Bare Anches. Think! Think! Sideswipe?

Yes! She was with Sideswipe. There was Jacket and Kup and... and nothing. Arcee frantically searched all her memory banks, all data entries and transmissions. She sifted through her senses; what was the last thing she sensed? Just the damn voice, the one voice that cut into her spark like a white-hot blade. But what happened? Where are all the memories of those things that occurred between finding Sideswipe and landing here?

Convoy's voice filled the quiet room as she continued to plan her strategy. "Number fifteen..."

A slow panic took root in the pit of Arcee's midriff. Like a vine, it curled and grew, wrapping itself around her rationality. No matter how hard Arcee tried, the missing memories failed to surface. What is wrong with me? What is wrong? Convoy reached number eighteen on her list. Arcee tried to decide whether to forego memory recovery or dive into complete panic. She was right; nothing about her felt right.

The femme took that a step further: nothing has been right since she and Daniel separated. Oh, at first she rejoiced, certainly. Arcee was partially ashamed that she dreamed and wished and hoped for years to return to her life before the Nebulon incident. She took Daniel into her life believing the bond would enrich and benefit both of them.

Where did she go wrong?

Then, when they did separate, he made her life just as miserable-if not more so-than before. His self-induced misery turned to animosity and from there, churned into malice toward her. It was all her fault.

Arcee bowed over, face in hands. How weak she was, to allow self-pity to block her objectivity. She hated herself for it-for it all, for everything. She hated herself for allowing anything-especially Daniel-to upset her. Yet for all the self-reproach, Arcee failed to find something to fill the emptiness inside.

Help me! She thought, I don't know what's wrong with me!

Convoy's gentle voice filtered through, "Arcee, hon, what's the matter? You don't seem quite yourself."

The brittle dam broke and all emotion flooded through the femme's systems, threatening to overload her into lockdown. She wept, ashamed of her weakness, frustrated with her personal failure and afraid to admit that, even to herself. Convoy settled beside her and rubbed Arcee's back, waiting for the younger femme to collect herself.

"I used to be happy," Arcee barely said. "I used to think that without Daniel, things would be simple and happier. But now... now I just feel empty, hollowed out and uprooted. And for some reason, I'm missing time. I don't know what's happened to me!"

Convoy herself did not know. "Do you miss Daniel, Arcee? Do you think you'd be better off with him rejoined to you?"

"No," the femme answered firmly. "No, I will never go back to that. I wish I could never see him again. And somehow, I don't think he's why I feel the way I do. I don't know. I don't know."

Convoy thought for a moment. Her hand never left the younger femme's shoulder. She absently watched as Cookies popped off the floor in sudden joy. He skittered from hiding to hiding before the chinchilla found his little bowl of bath dust and rolled in it. "Razor," she called, "please search all data pertaining to the last... ohhh... let's try for two weeks, regarding Arcee."

PROCESSING.

"Arcee, have you talked about this with anyone?"

Arcee stared at the table before them. "About Daniel? Yes. This? No. It happened before I woke up here. I was on a rescue search with Kup. We found Sideswipe and then I woke up here-"

Another call from Grotesque ruined the moment and Convoy quietly growled, "you better be dying, Grotesque." she transferred the transmission to her large view screen where she and Arcee watched Grotesque pick up a screaming child then held her away when the little girl shrieked as if tortured.

"Really, Captain," Grotesque answered. "I'm a terrible babysitter!"

The ladies exchanged expressions and Convoy shook her head.

***

A mile and three-quarters brought the ladies around the grand hospital and into a meadow bedecked with wide trees and soft grass. The broad trees swept out and low with sturdy branches strong enough to climb on. Several tables sat under the shade and a jungle gym claimed plenty of space along the western side. None of the children, however, played or laughed. Some of them stared at the world with wide, fearful eyes while others screamed, kicked or cried around the Monsterbot.

"Now... now, now. Kicking is not part of the storyline. You kids are supposed to-no, don't start crying again-WILL YOU QUIT KICKING ME!"

Convoy emitted a high-pitched whistle, startling everyone. All eyes (and Grotesque) turned to her. "Stand at attention. Front and center-that includes you, Grotesque."

"You're not my mom!" one little boy protested.

"Yeah!" others agreed.

"NOW!" Convoy ordered. She waited as the six children plus one Monsterbot took a space in a line before her. Their training, as ordered by Rodimus and Magnus, paid off nicely. Convoy scanned each child and recognized Amaya Otomatsu from her own ship. "You," she pointed to the Monsterbot. "Name. Ship. Appointed occupation."

"Grotesque, Ma'am. The Dancing Siren. Captain." The children looked to him, obviously unaware of his status.

"Eyes up here," Convoy ordered. "You, in the tan shirt. Name. Ship. Appointed occupation."

The alien boy in grey skin and boney head spoke in fearful tones. "Jarth Ammers. H-Hannibal's Mark. Um, Deck Three maintenance."

"Oh, Gryph's ship," Convoy said, pleased with his response. "You, next to him-HEY! I gave you no permission to talk to any one but ME! Name. Ship. Appointed occupation."

He was an American boy, taller than the rest with attitude written all over his face. He stabbed Convoy with angry eyes. "I'm not telling you."

"Is that so?" Convoy folded her arms. "Well, I don't take kindly to disobedience, mutiny or brats. Grotesque, take this unruly thing and put him in the brig. I'll let Magnus deal with him-"

"Okay, okay, okay!" the boy held his palms out, his voice conveyed panic. "Anthony Stauss. Armored Crest. Lavatory maintenance."

"You have a mouth on you, Mister Stauss," Convoy growled. "I suggest you not use it. Next person!"

"Baret D'Lavine. Sagittarian Mozart. Galley maintenance."

"Amaya Otomatsu. Razor Lady. Laundry."

"Persevill Penses. Sagittarian Mozart. Landing gear maintenance. "

"Dora Bauer. Covenant. Nursery assistant."

"Good," the lady captain approved. "Now, Amaya is the only person who knows me. I am Captain Convoy of the Razor Lady. And I am the one currently in charge. I am also the city commander of Fortress Horizon in Japan. That means I am Captain Grotesque's superior officer. I sent him here to take care of you and to see to it that you had what you needed. Your rebellious display was disgraceful and will be reported to your parents and your ship's captain. From here forward, you will be expected to control your behaviors and act civilized. If you cannot comply, I will not hesitate to either put you in the brig or assign you to an unpleasant task. Do I make myself clear?"

They answered her question with several weak 'yes, ma'am's. The children fidgeted nervously.

"Good." Convoy paced twice, hands folded behind her back. "The situation is this: we are on Yolthanis Three, where we were supposed to be several months ago. We are among friends and allies. You and I, Arcee and

Captain Grotesque are the only people who are currently awake. The rest will awaken a little at a time. I am appointing you six with the responsibility of learning what you can about where we are and what services and assistance our friends provide. As everyone else wakes up, it will be your job to tell them where to go for help if they need it. You will tell them what you know about the island, where all the ships are located and who is currently in charge. Is that clear?"

Again several 'yes, ma'am's and one 'yes, Captain' met her question. Convoy heard Arcee step onto the patio. The lady captain stood aside so the kids saw that Arcee brought them lunch. "Dismissed," Convoy gladly relinquished control. She had more to do than babysit. Between the look of Arcee's expression and the way the kids responded to her, Convoy realized she should have put the femme in charge to begin with. Live and learn, the captain thought.

Much to Convoy's chagrin, Daniel Witwicky returned to consciousness before anyone else. She loathed to deal with him, but deal she had to. Leaving the unpleasant task of incarcerating Witwicky back to his cell on the Sunset Kummya to the Monsterbot, Convoy took it upon herself to serve Witwicky a small meal.

True to his infantile behavior, Witwicky dumped his meal on the floor and kicked the dishes. "I want to see my daughter," he demanded.

"No."

"YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO KEEP ME FROM SEEING MY DAUGHTER!!"

"First of all, your daughter is not awake. Secondly, you have no rights period, Daniel Witwicky. I did not want you to starve to death. So... I'll just leave you with your food."

"I can't eat this shit!" Daniel hissed. "It's on the floor."

"And guess who put it there?"

He fumed. "You expect me to eat this?"

Convoy scrunched down to see his face more clearly. "I am not here to baby you. I am not here to nurse you or serve you. I am not here to cater to your madness. In fact, Mister Witwicky, I do not care about you at all. You are Rodimus' responsibility. I'm just here to feed the bird while he's gone for the weekend."

"Oh, haha." Daniel sneered. "I'll bet you're a real comedian among the girls."

Convoy refused to dignify his sarcasm with a remark. She departed without another word, leaving him in solitude with his cold and dirtied food.

*******

Jammel Littlefield awoke and listened with a foggy head as Convoy reported the situation. The EDC officer muttered a few questions and almost fell back to sleep when Convoy mentioned Daniel was back in his cell.

"Why's he awake already?" Littlefield snapped. Convoy merely shrugged. Captain Littlefield reached for a hot cup of tea now grown lukewarm. "Did he give you grief?"

"He threw his food around."

The Kummya's captain nodded. "He likes to push buttons and gets on my last nerve. He was given a datatablet to pass the time but he used it to gain unauthorized access. I've had to change my passwords six times until I took his toy away. I've given him books and pens and paper..." she sighed heavily. "He's just horrible."

Convoy tuned into an internal call. "Dora? What's going on?" Convoy nodded as the ten year-old girl relayed a message. The captain smiled and thanked her. "Well, Lakendra, looks like we're not so alone now. Physix, Spectrum, Gryph and Hot Spot just woke up. Get some rest, hon. Call me when you get up."

**

Gryph greeted Convoy with a hug. She passed a few hellos from some of Convoy's crew who were yet undergoing realignment. "There is something we need to discuss," Fort Draco's city commander added. "Most of the command staff were in the communications building when we escaped."

"Right. I gathered that," Convoy returned. The ladies traveled along a scenic garden overlooking the deep scar their ships made in the island.

"Well," Gryph continued, "there's nineteen ships. Magnus, Rodimus, Jazz, Optimus... they're all unconscious. It means someone else will have to handle matters on their ships until they wake up."

Convoy's smile died. "Oh. I didn't think about that-Yes?" She listened as Physix reported Strike Back's awakened status. Convoy did not want to deal with him any more than she did Daniel. Signing off with Physix, she stared at Gryph half a moment. "Uhm, I don't suppose you have a moment or two to spare, would you?"

**

Strike Back waited in his prison on the Sagittarian Mozart until Convoy and Gryph visited him. He put on a cordial smile and gave the impression of innocence. "Well, well. Not one but two visitors. And neither of them are Magnus nor Prime. How lucky can a mech get?"

Convoy frowned. "I've come to determine whether or not I can trust you."

Strike Back scoffed. "That's one thing I've always disliked about you, Convoy; you get right down to business. You have little to no sense of decorum."

Convoy nodded. "Believe me, Strike Back, I am well versed in social skills and small talk. I know as much about the weather and local gossip as the next captain. But it's a luxury I don't have at the moment. can I, or can I not trust you to be responsible, supportive and work with the rest of us as a team?"

"Oh, is that what you're here for, Convoy? You want my cooperation and assistance? You want me to 'tow the line, yours and mine and do the cha-cha?" Strike Back hovered one hand over his midriff, the other in the air and trotted about in a short dance. He scoffed. "Yeah, sure, Convoy, I'd be willing to support and pretend we're all one big family." he paused and intensified his glare. "But I get to be the one in charge."

Convoy caught Gryph when she lunged for Strike Back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

"You freaking self-important rat bastard!" Gryph hissed. "It's always about you or your little lost orphans! I got news for you, Strike Back, it's not about Paratrons and Autobots. It's about our species. Get that at all?"

Strike Back's expression soured. "Don't forget, bitch that it was you Autobots who destroyed our planet!"

"We were trying to save you!"

"YOU BLEW UP OUR HOMEWORLD!"

"STOP!" Convoy stepped between Gryph and Strike Back's cell. "Well, Strikes, I'm guessing you find your cell far cozier than the rest of the world."

Strike Back sneered. "Piss off, Convoy. I'm not interested in your heart-felt charity. I don't want your pity. I don't need your platitudes and I don't need you."

Convoy nodded and pursed her lips. "Yeah, I gathered that. It's just that I was hoping you'd not make me regret supporting you for command of Fort Zenith. Now I'm left wondering about all the Paratrons. First Redial, now you? Tell me, Strike Back, did you or one of your little cronies ever planned an assassination attempt on Optimus Prime? I'd not put it past you."

Strike Back's optics darkened with anger. "Piss off, Convoy."

***

Convoy never thought she'd be so happy to see Titanium up and functional. Not that Titanium was mean or rude, but he did run a 'tight ship'. At least he was not nearly as anal as Magnus. The lady captain picked a quiet, wide clearing half a mile from the ships and the med bay. She invited all ship captains to join her for a quiet, uninterrupted discussion, hoping to get the situation organized.

Gryph enthusiastically added chairs and a circular table with a holographic projector. She stepped back for a broader view. When was the last time they sat under trees and sky for a meeting? The captain of the Hannibal's Mark grinned. "I'm going to do this," she said to herself. "I'm going to build an atrium for a conference room rather than four walls."

A gruff voice huffed behind her. "There she goes again," Titanium grumbled as he passed between two great trees. "Talking to yourself as always, Gryph."

"I am an artist and it's not a crime," she feigned insult and the taller, bulkier Autobot rumbled a chuckle. He neared her with wide arms and enveloped her in a good-natured hug.

"How ya' doin' girl?"

"Far better now that we're off that rock."

"Which one? Bare Anches or Cratis?"

"Both."

Neither captain heard Convoy approach. "Hey you two, the nearest Super 8 motel is thousands of light years away and three hundred years into the future." She claimed a chair and settled in. Cookies sat on her left shoulder and proceeded to clean his face. "I like this idea, Gryph," Convoy said as she scanned her digipad.

Gryph and Titanium settled to Convoy's right. "Do I get points for it?"

Convoy said nothing as Physix, Hot Spot, Spectrum and coral joined the group. Glancing left to right, Convoy shook her head. "Grotesque," she said over the comline, "you're late." she looked up when a shadow hovered over her. coral laughed as the belated Monsterbot floated down and landed on the table.

"Never fear, Lady Captain," he grinned, bending on one knee before her. "Late is not absent, nor does the moon rule the sun. The great is never overcome by the lesser, nor is my love conquered by time or distress." Convoy fixated her optics on Grotesque and tapped her fingers on the table until the Monsterbot pointed to a seat two chairs to her left. "But I see a chair with my name on it. Henceforth, I shall occupy its space!"

Convoy waited another minute before starting. "I see that Silverbolt is not with us yet. Was he in the building with the others?" her optics bounced from one captain to another but no one had the answer. "Well, okay then. I thought it a good idea that we put our heads together so we can be on the same tablet. With our high command down for the count, it leaves the rest of us to take up their jobs. Now, I hate lengthy meetings as much as the rest of you. So... how about we start with the immediate situation? We have nineteen ships and nine captains down. That means someone will have to cover those ships without captains." Movement caught Convoy's attention and she smiled. "Question, coral?"

"Uh, I'm just a little fuzzy with events. No one informed me how we got here. The last bit I recall was an alien object headed on a direct course for the asteroid." coral shook her head with a wilted smile.

Convoy pinned her optics on Grotesque and lapped her arms over one another. "Excellent question, coral. Grotesque, you were there, weren't you?"

"Er..." the cat/bat/alligator Monsterbot forced on a smile. "Well... uh, I remember the black ooze that was chasing everyone around. Uh, I remember the Quintesson captive was eaten alive. I know that pretty femme, cloudstreaker did something to the tractor beam. And I remember Rodimus..." Grotesque stopped smiling, stopped pretending. His entire demeanor turned downcast. "I remember Rodimus," he repeated quietly. He stared at the table, lost in an evil memory. When he managed to push the memory aside, Grotesque rubbed his forehead and looked back to the Cold Refractor's lady captain. "Know what? Maybe it's a better thing to just be glad we escaped and leave it there. cuz what happened in that building..." He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Nightmares need to stay in their closets, Little Lady. Don't go digging in the scrap yard." A solemn silence followed his words and Grotesque wished he answered the question differently.

Titanium took the momentary quiet to examine each of his peers. Uncertainty, confusion and relief shadowed their faces. Bare Anches' memory retained its freshness in their minds. Even cratis, now two months ago, cast a gloom, difficult to describe, yet there, as certain as a bad scent. Finally the Frostbite's Prime-appointed captain leant his attention to Convoy. The question on the forefront of his mind was not a kind one, but one he needed to ask so as to set a precedence of order among the other captains. "Listen, Convoy, not that I'm trying to be hostile or play king of the mountain," he said carefully, "but who appointed you in charge?" Gryph cast a dirty look his way. Physix stared at Convoy while Hot Spot pinged his glances between them.

"No one put me in charge, Titanium," Convoy replied evenly. "Arcee and I woke up first. I already made a handful of decisions and set up protocols before you and everyone except Grotesque woke up. Grotesque and Arcee both accepted my lead-"

"Look," he interrupted, "I just... I just want to make sure we follow protocol. That's all."

"Did you want to put it to a vote?" she waited a beat while Titanium opened his mouth but said nothing. "I will not fight you on this, Tite. However, I do have a job I need someone to fill and I'd like you to take it." That caught his interest and Convoy relaxed. "As we said, there's nineteen ships and nine captains are down. Someone has to take over those other ships. I've already been communicating with our benefactors including Doctor Paul Gates. I think to change that relationship in lieu of another appointed commander among us is a waste of time. What I need is someone to take on personnel and someone else to handle security."

Convoy finally got everyone's attention. With a glance at her peers, she continued. "Gryph and I visited Strike Back earlier. He was less than helpful and I want to leave him where Magnus put him. Are there any objections to this?"

Hot Spot raised his hand and everyone looked to him. "I ain't objecting, Captain," he said quickly. "I'm just concerned about his crew-mainly the Sabor's Claw. There's been a lot of requests for transfer from other ships to the Claw over the last few weeks. Roddi and Magnus have tried to keep the Paratrons separated. But they are adamant."

Gryph settled back in her chair and set a finger on the table. "Dare I say the M-word?" she meant 'mutiny' which caused coral to wince. "I've been experiencing it on the Mark. Fourteen requests to transfer to the Claw over and over."

Convoy did not miss a single 'same here' from the other captains. "What do we want to do about it? If mutiny and separation is inevitable, how much damage are we looking at?"

Coral spoke with a quiet, timid voice, "how many Paratrons are there among us?"

Grotesque took the question: "Approximately one thousand. That is, averaging four hundred Autobots per ship and say fifteen percent of those are Paratron, that's about sixty Paratrons, nineteen ships and it puts us about 1160. All estimated, of course." the Monsterbot returned everyone's vacant stare. "Am I wrong?"

"Most likely not," Titanium grunted. "Well, then, how do we deal with them?"

Hot Spot pitched his answer: "I suggest we just stow them in their quarters until the Primes or Magnus can deal with 'em."

Titanium frowned but Gryph spoke. "You're talking about mutiny. And someone who's willing to commit it, certainly will not be confined to quarters just because they're ordered to."

Convoy eyed her. "Are you suggesting we lock them up?"

"Yes. Don't we have more to do than chase down some dissident because they're unhappy?"

"Gryph's got a point," Hot Spot concurred.

Convoy nodded. "Okay. Well... Tite, think you can handle dealing with more than one ship on top of Kup's place as security?"

Titanium nodded toward Hot Spot. "So long as I get to deputize him over there." he smiled when the Protectobot leader nodded in acceptance.

"Good. Well, then, in addition to your own ship, the Frostbite and the Sabor's Claw, I'd like to take the Trench Driver. Hot Spot, you're his sidekick."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Gryph?" Convoy turned partly right and met the Mark's captain's smile. "I want to give you the Alveraz, the Spiral Star and the Sagittarian Mozart. I will take the Crested Moon and the Gabriel Genesis."

Littlefield's voice called from the far right side of the table. "S-uh-Silverbolt, I was told, was caught just inside the Quintessons central control. I'm assuming that means there's no one to cover the Covenant."

That surprised Convoy. "Oh. Well... anyone here care to volunteer for the Covenant?" No hands. "Anyone?" Convoy's gaze drifted toward Grotesque.

The Monsterbot held his palms outward. "Sorry, Lady Captain," he returned, "My claws are full enough."

Physix shook his head and so did Spectrum.

Gryph produced a small datatablet. "Granite might, Convoy. But he's still down."

"Okay.

*****

*Bonk* *Bonk* WHACK.

*Bonk* *Bonk* WHACK.

*Bonk* *Bonk* WHACK.

Rusti's eyes opened of their own accord. Her mind registered only light and the repetitive sound. Did she die? A distant music lulled her back to ambiguous dreams. She woke again to a bright world, a quiet room and a numb body. Where the hell...? The lack of placement recognition stirred her heart into a slow panic. Stay calm.

No. Nothing. Nothing! Rusti pushed herself up by her elbows then flopped back to her pillow. The movement aroused every pain receptor and raw nerve in her body. She winced and gasped for breath. "Hello?" her voice squeaked, "hello?"

Fear drove her to choke with tears. "Somebody help, I don't know where I am!"

"Shhhh..." soft, gentle fingers lined the young lady's left cheek and Rusti faced a beautiful woman draped in silky white robes. Her luminescent eyes traced the lines of Rusti's face before meeting her with a smile.

All pain in her body dissolved. But inside, Rusti felt no better. When she spoke, her voice cracked and failed, squeaked and whispered. "Wh'r am I? Wh'r...?"

"You are among friends, Miss Witwicky. You and the Autobots made it to Yolthanis III. You are welcome to rest as much as you need." Rusti looked away, ashamed of oncoming tears. "We know you have been through much," the lady added. "You will not heal in a day-"

"Hell," Rusti corrected. Her voice strengthened slightly and she cleared her throat. "We've been through Hell. "Please don't tell me Optimus and Roddi are dead! Please tell me it was all a bad dream!"

"We have them and they are resting safely. Did you need anything? Are you comfortable?"

Rusti heard her but her brain conjured no answer. She honestly did not know what she wanted. Neither thirst nor hunger plagued her; memories like the fleeting shadows of evil dreams. "What happened to me?" she whispered. "What happened to me? What happened?" Rusti's aching heart withered but her mind, complicated by disarranged emotions and unanswered questions, slowly slipped into sleep. The lady beside her covered the young lady warmly. She silently ordered the windows to dim before she silently left the room in peace.

****

Convoy listened while Spectrum rattled off a long list of status reports from a damaged rations storage unit to eleven complaints posted by six people. The Razor Lady's captain frowned as Cookies slipped off her in search of crackers.

Convoy produced a small cracker from a pocket and watched her pet nibble with enthusiasm. "How many are awake now?"

"Uh-" Spectrum expected Convoy to ask about the complaints. She mentally back-tracked and consulted her digipad. "A total of two-fifty over the last six days, Ma'am."

Convoy laid a finger on her lower lip component. "And the complaints?"

"Uhhh..." Spectrum scrolled and scrolled, "oh, Prog, from the Crested Moon left a note regarding a case of bad energon. Tholineous from the Trench Driver is unhappy about his living conditions. Imp from the Gabriel Genesis and Seaside from the Spiral Star have refused to do their jobs for three days, now. What would you like me to tell them?"

"Nothing," Convoy rubbed Cookies' nose.

"Nothing?"

"We're not at a resort, Spectrum and this is not a motel. Let them simmer in their tantrums a while longer and when they're good and ready, they'll confront me and I'll deal with them. Until then, don't return their complaints. You have better things to do." she watched Spectrum nod nervously. "By the way, where are they keeping the survivors of the Q-Virus?"

*****

*Bonk* *Bonk* WHACK.

*Bonk* *Bonk* WHACK.

*Bonk* *Bonk* WHACK.

Arcee's voice rang strong and clear: "Anthony Stauss! I've told you twice not to hit the wall with the ball!"

He scoffed. "Don't own it, Miss Poet." bonk-whack. "HEY!" he lost footing one second and hung twenty feet from the ground the next. His eyes expanded into platters when he faced Arcee far too closely.

"Don't screw with me, Mister Stauss. I'm a nice girl who's been pushed around too many times."

"Okay, okay! Don't get your fenders all bent outta shape! Geeze!"

Arcee started to lower the punk when she heard him call her a bitch under his breath. Instead of setting him on the ground, she hung him up in the nearest tree. Anthony vehemently protested with colorful language and added many more words to Arcee's growing list of nicknames. She ignored him and walked away.

Convoy entered the courtyard, now beset with more tables and chairs. Fourteen children joined the original six. They too were charged with learning their new surroundings and educating new arrivals. Perigee, fresh from her slumber by ten A.M. came to Arcee's aid and handled five toddlers. She grinned at Convoy with a lively sparkle in her optics. Convoy guessed the femme enjoyed her new-if temporary-job.

"What's that?" Convoy asked upon finding Arcee.

"What?" Arcee followed Convoy's finger toward the white tree and the brat caught in its branches. "Oh, that's a time-out. No social graces, no need to be sociable. He can just watch."

Convoy nodded deeply. "The... the Q-Virus patients?"

Arcee silently pointed toward the building's eastern entrance. Sadness shadowed her optics. "They buried three early this morning, Captain. I-I hope one of them wasn't Rusti."

Convoy laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I promise to let you know, Arcee. Are you okay right now?" the lady captain watched as the former Headmaster femme silently nodded with a downcast expression. Her whole demeanor dropped open like a dead flower, fallen and broken. "Promise to let me know if you need anything?" Convoy leaned over to catch Arcee's optics. But depression hovered over Arcee so heavily she could only nod. With a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, Convoy wordlessly departed.

Convoy never crossed the threshold of the medlab on Bare Anches. Had she done so, the lady captain would find delight in the absolute difference between the Quintesson's quarantine level and the medical facility on Yolthanis. A quiet, soft light illuminated the room. In a far off corner a harpist gently tugged at the strings of her instrument, releasing soothing sounds across the room. Beds offered both comfort and room for each patient. Three nurses attended each lady with a watchful eye. Convoy recognized one such nurse: a member of the group of psychics that escaped with them. The psychic, too, recognized the Razor Lady's captain and approached.

"You remember me," said the tall, slender female.

"Chy-Chaunam," Convoy returned with an equally quiet voice. "I'm surprised to find you awake and busy."

The psychic with long white hair and paper-white complexion laid her bright eyes on the lady to her left. "I heard their dreams. I..." she hugged herself and dropped her eyes to the floor. "I encountered something I never guessed existed. It frightened me to consciousness."

"Frightened you? The Virus, perhaps?"

"No." Chy-Chaunam searched Convoy's face. "No, something far more powerful, far older with a name I cannot pronounce."

"Something on this planet?" Convoy hated guessing games and forced herself to remain patient. Her experience with psychics was sorely lacking.

"There are three sources. The girl... the girl was dream walking."

"I don't-"

"Her name is..." Chy-Chaunam hesitated. Her lips struggled to form a word as if it lay buried under layers and layers of secrets. "It's Shalatta. It's Resonna."

"Rusti." Convoy shrugged at the psychic's surprised expression. "I don't know the girl personally, but I've dealt with her father on a few occasions. But why would you call her 'Shalatta'? No one has ever called her that."

Instead of answering, Chy-Chaunam lifted her head, turned around and moved as if called to an emergency. Convoy followed and kept her footfalls quiet as possible. Two rooms later, Convoy and Chy-Chaunam stepped into a room blue-grey with dimmer lighting than the first two. Five women, including Rusti, slept and to the untrained eye, they looked peaceful.

Chy-Chaunam stood in the middle of the room, raised her arms then slowly lowered them. "Shhhhhh. Bid your dreams to rest. Let go of the dark and follow my voice to safety. Quiet. Quiet." the psychic drew a deep breath and released it as she closed her eyes. Convoy sank to her knees, aware the psychic's powers affected her as certainly as it affected the patients.

"Be at peace," Chy-Chaunam repeated. "Let the darkness fall away..."

"the darkness fall away..."

Rusti's voice echoed the psychic's last four words down to the timing. Chy-Chaunam gasped and turned in the young lady's direction. Convoy looked to Rusti and also gasped when Rusti sat up and opened her eyes to them, viewing the world through a set of bright, solid blue. "I hear you. You walk along the halls of grief and bring light. You breathe for those who cannot. You touch without touching; a candle for the lost."

Chy-Chaunam lowered her hands and took one step back, closer to Convoy. "Who are you?" she whispered, "you are not the girl by whom you speak."

"I am the womb of my people. I received life and I am the giver of breath. I am that which the Quintessons fear. I am protector, guide and the wise. I am the uncontaminated, unspoiled."

"The Matrix," Convoy whispered. She froze when Rusti's blue eyes pierced her straight to the core.

"Hello, Convoy. Good that you are well."

Were she not already on her knees, Convoy would have dropped. She laid a hand on her chest as her spark intensified with an unnamed sensation. She smiled, however, understanding herself as the recipient of love in its purest form.

Chy-Chaunam clasped her hands together. "Please, tell me more of yourself. I have never encountered a life form such as you!"

"No. The girl, first. Her injuries are considerable. I will accept your assistance." With that, Rusti's head dropped onto her chest, heavy as a rock.

Neither Convoy nor the psychic spoke as Humanoid and mechanical life forms pondered over the communication. Finally Convoy turned to Chy-Chaunam. "I am guessing you've been appointed by the Matrix to take care of Rusti."

Chy-Chaunam gave the Razor Lady's captain a double glance, her expression filled with uncertainty.

*******

a songbird gently roused Rusti from her long slumber. She yawned, eyes yet closed. What day was it? Wednesday? Saturday? Wasn't she supposed to study for a test? Right! History! The Napolean Era. Jacques Luis-David was an artist.

...omk... Omk Zh'vvupteen...

Rusti caught her breath and snapped her eyes wide open. Unfamiliar surroundings struck fear within her. Stay still. Stay quiet. Think. Think! She sat up and volleyed her eyes from wall to wall to door. "Ohmigod," she whimpered. "Where am I?" her heart raced when she realized six other beds resided in the same large room as she. Without another thought, Rusti stripped the sheet and light blanket off and took to her feet.

She collapsed with a resounding thump. She couldn't walk?! "NO!" She screamed. "NO!" She tried to push herself up but her legs refused her commands. That was when she discovered all the bandage wrapping under her white night gown. Soft linen enveloped her extremities, the backs of her hands, her shoulders and about her abdomen. Panic slammed into Rusti's heart and she screamed and screamed as she tried to rip the dressing off her arms.

The large wooden door opened quickly but silently and Chy-Chaunam rushed in. She dropped to her knees and cupped Rusti's face. "Sh, sh, sh," she soothed. "It's alright. You are safe now. Rusti, you are safe."

"God, I'm not okay! Get this off me! Get this-" the psychic grabbed Rusti's hands and stared straight into her eyes as the girl squirmed and kicked.

"Rusti, Rusti! You are not on Bare Anches, now. You and the Autobots have arrived on Yolthanis III. You're safe."

Her heart pounded and Rusti's panic melted into grief. She gripped the humanoid's hands and wept. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I saw them and I was there and then Void talked to me and I was going to die and I-I'm so worried about Roddi and Optimus!! Please let them be okay! Let them be okay!" Chy-Chaunam wrapped her arms about the young woman and held her close.

"Yes," she promised. "They are here with us. You made it. All of you escaped." Rusti calmed after another moment and Chy-Chaunam sat back. She wiped a few unruly curls from the young lady's face. "You escaped and far, far away from the darkness, now."

Rusti's lower lip trembled. The hysteria left but three more tears bailed before the crying stopped altogether. "It was horrible," her tiny voice barely registered in the air between them. "Absolutely horrible. I wish I could just forget it ever happened."

With a great deal of patience, the medical staff coaxed Rusti into taking a shower rather than a bath. It took them another fifteen minutes of reasoning before she allowed them to redress the wounds on her arms, legs and abdomen. She refused to look at the damage and she trembled the whole time they applied three types of healing salves. They provided light clothing and put her in a wheelchair.

"I can walk," she insisted. "I'm not that pathetic."

The nurse, an older female with deep purple skin smiled motherly. "Sweetheart, you have torn muscle tissue." her heart went out to the young lady when Rusti's face flushed with fresh tears. "You need to be out in the sun, Dear. You need to see something beautiful and we have a lot of beautiful things for you to see. So come. We're here to take care of you."

Rusti acquiesced and settled in the comfortable chair. The nurse laid a light throw cover across and with a handful of tissues in hand, wheeled her young patient outside. Rusti looked at nothing. While she enjoyed the ride, her mind tipped and twirled as memories ate her insides like a slow-growing mold. Before she noticed, they stopped just under a blossoming tree. In front of her, an outcropping of stone squatted one atop another in a series of four steps. Water tumbled over them in a wash of silver and white. A small pond gathered the water like a basin of purity. Flowering shrubs nestled nearby, graced by long-stemmed plants, dripping with long white and blood-red flowers. Toward the top of the falls, a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered above one shrub of tiny yellow flowers.

The nurse squatted beside Rusti and tucked the throw blanket under her legs. Rusti paid her no attention as she stared at the sight, seeing nothing but those things in her traumatized mind. The alien took Rusti's right hand and waited until the young lady met her eyes.

"I will leave you here for a few minutes, hon. Don't be afraid, there is always someone close by. If you need anything, just ask. We will hear you. Did you want anything? Something on which to write or draw? Maybe a book?"

Rusti silently shook her head. So emotionally numb and drained, nothing interested her. The nurse departed, leaving Rusti alone with her tangled thoughts.

Somewhere along the web of confusion, Rusti remembered Steeljaw and wondered if he was okay.

****

From a long distance, Convoy watched Rusti as Doctor Gates listened to an update from his staff. He closed the conversation and pecked out a note to himself on a handheld device.

"What's the news?" Convoy asked without looking at him.

"No change from the command staff, I'm afraid. Well, except for the Monsterbot, naturally, and Arcee. Therapists say she's closed off, unwilling to talk. It will take time."

Convoy turned toward him, her expression as blank as the sky above them. "Doctor, we are pressed for time. While we sit here, nursing our wounds, Earth suffers under Quintesson rule. Time is not something we can spare."

Paul nodded. "I am sorry, Captain. But you have little to no choice. Your leaders are still comatose, half of the Autobots are still recovering from time sickness and there's the-" he paused and cleared his throat. "There's the Q-virus survivors. Every one of them is traumatized in some way. One lady we have to keep sedated. I'm beginning to doubt whether or not she'll ever be sane again. And-uh-two women, I'm afraid, passed away this morning. Doctor Zornoy blames himself. Though I don't know why." He paused again. "You really have no choice, Convoy."

Convoy frowned. "What about the Matrix Virus, Doctor?" Paul shook his head and Convoy guessed he didn't know. "I checked on the Witwicky girl to see if she was conscious and asked. But in her state..."

Paul stared a long moment then heaved a tiresome sigh. "Even you are not unaffected by the evil from which you escaped. In fact, you need a distraction other than the burden of worry, Convoy. Why don't you come with me? I will show you what Optimus Prime and I were working on before the illness overcame him."

"A project?" Convoy scoffed. "Just like a prime; busy, busy, busy."

"Yes, well, this was more than just general Op/Roddi business." Paul led the lady captain from their lookout back to the main grounds. They passed nurses and assistants who wheeled several patients outside for fresh air and sunshine. Convoy took mental note, counting humanoid adults and children among those now awake and recovering. To her delight, she also spotted Bumblebee and Freeway playing ball with three teenage boys.

Doctor Gates led her inside the medbay, down stairs and into an underground bunker. They passed several locked doors before the hall opened into a docking bay. Convoy marveled at the size and scope of the place. She searched the ceiling to be sure her guess was correct, and sure enough, the ceiling was threaded together by a series of clamps. Any one of the Autobot ships could easily fit through the ceiling and land without touching walls or lighting.

"How...? Why...?"

Doctor Gates smiled, pleased with her reaction. "As I said, it was a project Optimus and I were working on before the invasion."

"But what exact...ly...oh." Convoy followed Paul along a southern catwalk. She peered down and beheld four body casings, presumably Autobots. She stared in disbelief.

"Come this way," Gates invited. Convoy followed him to a nearby lift and they slowly descended to the main floor. Workers came and left, ignoring their presence as they approached four mechs standing tall, proud and lifeless.

Convoy eyed one mech with mild suspicion; it looked as if it had the transform of a Pontiac G8 sports truck. Shorter than the other body shells, it took on the appearance of a young Autobot, much like the Hot Rod Convoy once knew. The next robot to the right looked a good deal like a Ram 1500 Express. The other two mechs were of similar 'species' and both were heavy-duty types. Convoy liked what she saw.

"So," she said finally, "what are they?"

"Eh?"

She looked at the scientist. "They look like a gestalt team."

Doctor Gates smiled and batted his eyes. "That was the initial idea, yeah. Except, of course, there's nobody home in there. Optimus wanted to infuse them with life but..." he shook his head. "Once it was determined the Matrix was infected with the Virus, that kinda set things back."

"Why didn't he have them taken to Cybertron, to Vector Sigma?"

Paul gazed at her in disbelief. "Don't you know?"

Convoy inclined slightly, suspecting he was about to tell her a secret. "Know what?"

"Vector Sigma's been dead for thirty years."

Convoy's internal temperature plummeted and her fuel lines stopped dead when her lasercore paused in shock. Paul caught her as she lost all her strength to stand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, girl! I thought everyone knew!"

"It can't... that's not possible!" Convoy had to consciously breathe to keep her vitals from overheating. "Oh Primus, no wonder Optimus refused to return to cybertron! I thought he simply liked it better on Earth. I thought... oh Primus!"

Paul let her go and sat beside her. "Judging by your reaction, I can see why he kept it a secret. There goes my mouth again." he paused. "Will you be okay?"

Convoy nodded, numb from the shock. "Wh-what were they going to be?"

"Dieselbots," the doctor proclaimed proudly. "Rodimus wanted to wait until they were brought to earth to find them a good leader. He felt it was-and I quote-'cooler' if they simply promoted someone rather than produce a leader." Paul shrugged, "I suggested either Kup or Ultra Magnus."

A warm broad smile swept away her shock and Convoy thought it over fondly. "Kup. Kup would make a great gestalt leader."

*******

The days passed on like a casino dealer laying one card at a time. The Psycade buried their leader, Wolfen Tagmar. They fell quiet after that. Even Samiko stared at the world with saddened, listless eyes. She kept an eye on her people and made sure none of them made too much emotional contact, keeping mostly to themselves. Two more weeks passed before Samiko summoned courage and strength to confront Arcee.

The femme was not exactly happy to see Samiko. Arcee shelved her expressions into stoicism, or as close to it as she could. They sat under a grove of tall, slender trees, facing a broad silver fountain. Several purple birds bathed in the clean water and preened their feathers. Arcee suppressed her anxiety. At least she did not have to meet the psychic's eyes.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Arcee," Samiko said gently. The Autobot femme gave no response and the psychic continued. "I'm sorry for your pain. I am sorry that we have been the source of your pain and I wish we could help you heal."

Arcee still said nothing for a long time. Her thoughts drifted past the moment, beyond Bare Anches to Daniel Witwicky. She was ashamed when she thought how much better she might feel were he dead. Confronting that personal truth, the femme raised her optics to a waning afternoon sky. "I... somehow wish I could say it was the only time someone... hit me like that. But the truth is, I have..." her lips moved but no words passed. She found no way to describe the churning darkness within.

Samiko dragged her eyes from the towering femme to the water fountain, now devoid of birds. "You have deep scars, Arcee. You are haunted and tormented. You have no sense of self, of what makes you Arcee. That's why you are so vulnerable. Whatever you were before your torment is long since gone. And the only way to fix that is to reinvent you. Who is Arcee? What does she do? What does she enjoy? What makes her happy? Until you can find those answers, you will always be empty and vulnerable." again the psychic took on silence, giving Arcee time for thought.

They sat there as the sun sank and left the island in the shadow of cooler temperatures. Arcee finally stopped staring at the fountain and stared at her hands. "I don't know where to even start. I see his face, I hear his voice." she looked to the left, facing part of the medbay. Nothing of its beautiful design registered on her current train of thought, however. "I just want him gone from my life, from everything. I wish I could never see him again."

Samiko shook her head. "You can't fix that. That's something beyond your reach. All you can do is fix you, fix Arcee. You need to reestablish groundwork for who and what you want to be, build it a little at a time. Every day."

What Samiko said made sense. Perhaps without knowing it, Arcee already had a foundation; a friendship with Cloudstreaker. Relaxing under that, Arcee said nothing more and an hour later, Samiko quietly departed.

******

'Twas Blaster who woke next. His optics greeted the blissful sunlight-and look! It was real sunlight. The communications office grinned, welcoming the light and felt lighter himself. He sat up from the flat. Where were they? The room surrounded him with solid colors, cool pieces of artwork and a sunroof (hence the light). Dude, he thought, wired-eyed, bushy-tailed, anything to ruin this day has already failed!

Blaster grinned even more when he pictured ol' Cyc doing the face-palm. The Autobot slipped off the flat and stretched, popping kinks in his joints. He stopped to touch his toes when he realized something was seriously amiss.

Those ain't my feet.

Those ain't my legs.

These ain't my hands.

cold dread settled at the flooring in his intake valves. He searched for a mirror or other reflective surface and found a picture window round the corner of an adjoining room. Blaster took one good look and screamed... just like a girl.

Convoy scowled and stirred a glass of Easy-Ten as she listened to Ornate from the Interrogator. The femme whined and moaned about every little thing wrong with her present assignment onboard Spectrum's ship. The Dinobots were too noisy. The weapons repair crews were a gang of inept platizoids (whatever that was). Rations were spread so thin, most Autobots were lucky if they had any at all. All decks lower than Number Two were filthy and littered with metal shavings... blah, blah, blah.

"...and can I please, please transfer to the Sabor's Claw?"

"No."

Convoy's answer induced a litany of angry retorts, self-pity remarks and more whining. She cut Ornate off in favor of greeting Apogee. The lady captain stood and proffered a hand, inviting the femme to sit beside her. But Apogee only stared with panic-ridden optics.

"DU-U-U-DE!" she nearly sang. "Look at me!"

Convoy made a passing glance from the medic's head to her feet and shrugged. "You look fine, hon. What seems to be the problem?"

"It's not me!"

Convoy inclined her head slightly. "What?"

"Dude, you don't get it! I AIN'T Apogee!"

Convoy failed to tuck the amusement from her face. She leaned back in her chair, pointer laid on her bottom lip. "I'm sorry, hon. I guess I keep getting you and your sister confused."

"I'm not Apogee, I'm BLASTER!"

Convoy tilted her head left. "...what?"

"Ain't you tuned in? I'm not this chic. My boomcase-someone's got my outsides!"

Apogee's body. Apogee's voice. Not Apogee?? Convoy remained level-headed. "Alright. Let's say that you are Blaster; what happened?"

"Got me, man! I turned sunny-side up and everything's all in the wrong places. I got no speakers! I don't wanna be a girl!"

Coming from a femme, it sounded wrong. Still, Convoy managed to keep a straight face. She connected to a comline channel. "Hey, Gryph, do we have any medical personnel awake yet?"

Trinket examined Apogee/Blaster head nodule to foretoe. She shrugged and pursed her lip components. "On the outside she-"

"HEY!" Apogee/Blaster protested.

"Sorry," Trinket replied without meaning it. "HE appears okay, everything's functioning fine. So you say you just woke up like this?"

"You want me to put the song on repeat? cuz I will."

Trinket only held her hands up, placating.

Convoy glanced from the technician to the unfortunate communications officer. "I'm going to take a leap and guess that Blaster-er-his body-isn't awake yet." Trinket sighed and laid a hand at the back of her neck.

"What?" Blaster demanded in the femme's voice. "What's that mean?" he glanced from one lady to the other, desperate as a prisoner. "Oh, no," his voice sounded horribly foreign. "No, no, no. You are NOT going to make me stay like this! come ON, Trinket! Ya gotta think of somethin', man!"

Trinket stared dryly. "You know, it's really bizarre hearing dialog like that coming from Apogee."

"What am I supposed to do until then?" Blaster cried. "I can't mix a forty like this! I got no equipment to work with!"

Both ladies lost it. They laughed long after Blaster/Apogee departed in disgust.

Twenty minutes later, Captain Littlefield called, interrupting Convoy's conversation with Samiko.

"It's Daniel Witwicky."

"What abut him?"

"He wants to see you."

Convoy frowned. "Tell him to buy a photograph. I'm busy."

"Captain-"

"Not now, Lakendra. I have better things to do." Convoy closed the link and turned back to Samiko. "I'm glad to hear Arcee appears to be improving. I'm worried about her."

The psychic nodded, her shoulder-length hair swayed slightly. "I wish there was more, a good deal more, we could do for you and your people, Captain Convoy. So many of them suffer." Samiko watched as the femme nodded slightly and petted Cookies. "Tell me," Samiko said after a moment, "when was the last time you took a few hours' rest?"

Convoy snorted. "Since I first woke up. In spite of handing out responsibility to others, my arms are still loaded. 'Busy as a Prime', we say. It's not far from the truth." she too paused a moment to chart all things that were not of immediate importance, but required attention. One such issue came to mind. "Oh, tell me, have you spoken with Chy-Chaunam?"

Samiko tilted her head to the right. "She's taken on the responsibility to assist the women affected by the Q-Virus, hasn't she?"

"Yes."

"But you're worried about one person in particular."

Convoy slightly smiled. "Yes. She's sort of important to the boys."

"By 'boys', I'm guessing you mean Optimus and Rodimus Prime." Samiko wasn't reading Convoy's mind so much as she knew what was going on. After all, ship logs weren't private like the captain's logs. Convoy nodded and Samiko gazed left, reading the trees and the blue sky above them. "I sense nothing from your leaders. But the girl-Rusti-is deeply disturbed."

"Can you help-" Convoy cut off her sentence when someone called on her more private comline. "Yes," she answered wearily.

Daniel's voice sang over the comline. "Captain Convoy!"

"What the Pitt?" Convoy stood as if Daniel were right there with him. She glared at nothing.

"Now, now, Captain," Witwicky mocked. "Don't get riled. I haven't made my demands yet."

"What this about?" the lady captain signaled the discussion with Samiko ended. She left the meadow, transformed to automode and rolled toward her own ship. Daniel rattled of a number of complaints and Convoy contacted Captain Littlefield. "What by the Pitt is going on?" she demanded.

"I don't know what happened," Littlefield returned, slightly panicked. "I've lost control of the bridge!"

"What?"

"Now, where do I want to start? Oh yes! I want out of here. I want Resonna front and center and I want a shuttle all my own in which I can take my leave."

"Two words, Daniel," Convoy growled, "not happening."

Daniel's voice turned condescending: "oh, I understand. Scraptimus and his little butt-buddy have gone on vacation and left you with the house keys. What I want isn't much. Not really."

Convoy boarded the Razor Lady and headed straight for the bridge. "I said no, Daniel," she returned sternly. "Now how the hell did you manage to-"

"I have friends!" Daniel answered swiftly. "We made an agreement and they gave me a present and now I'm going to do something I've been wanting to do for months."

Convoy heard a BAAM! from Littlefield's side of the conversation. "What was that?"  Convoy waited while Littlefield shouted orders to suppress a plasma fire and forbade Drox from touching controls. Littlefield reported: "Navigation on the Kummya just blew, Convoy. No explanation or reason. They just-the whole consol blew apart!" she coughed, shouted more orders and coughed again.

Convoy lifted her optics toward the ceiling, restraining her rising anger. "Daniel..."

"Oh, heard that little broadcast, did you, Captain? Well, guess what? I have surprises all over the fleet just like that one. Care to guess which present I'm going to open?"

Convoy swore under her breath and opened a private channel to Littlefield. "How bad is it, Captain?"

"Uhh... navigation is toasted, commander." Littlefield hacked and coughed before cutting communication.

Convoy chose to gamble: "Alright, Daniel. You made one move. My answer is the same."

Daniel scoffed. "Alrighty."

Thirty seconds later, Titanium contacted Convoy. "Just got a message from the Trench Diver. Seems the sewer system blew a hole in the pipes, leaking all over deck six."

Convoy sank into her captain's chair and growled in frustration. "Okay. So, he wasn't kidding. Scuttle."

The Razor's navigator turned in his chair. "Ma'am?"

"Find me a communications expert." Convoy leaned to one side, elbow on the arm of her chair, chin in her hand. She patched into Daniel's line. "Alright, Daniel," she groaned. "What was your first request?"

"Out of here, Captain. I want out of this cell and I never want back in. Secondly-"

She cut him off with a snort.

Scuttle turned around. "Captain, I've contacted Alto from the Crested Moon. Said she'd be happy to report to you."

*****

"3÷57.8... HE NEVER SAW THE WHOLE EQUATION."

"3÷57.8... HE NEVER SAW THE WHOLE EQUATION."

"3÷57.8... HE NEVER SAW THE WHOLE EQUATION."

Rusti sat up straight from sleep and gripped her hair. "SHUT UP!"

A light snapped on from the hallway and the night nurse stepped in. "Is everything all right, Miss Witwicky? can I get you anything?"

"A lobotomy," Rusti growled. She flopped back to her pillow and sighed heavily.

"Would you like a book to read or would you like to watch a movie?"

Rusti stared at the sunroof, now darkened by the fall of night. Three weeks of medicine, physical and psychological therapy resulted in sore muscles and boredom. Three weeks of mindless nothingness. Nothing interested her. She didn't care what was going on with whom or what. Although she no longer used a wheelchair for short periods of time, walking left deep aches in her joints and some days she simply had no will to move at all.

Chy-Chaunam remained quiet and patient while the young lady sifted through her head. One thread of thought laced with another unrelated thought. Her brains lay scattered in her skull like a box of loose Legos. Finally Rusti pulled herself up again and stared at the alien psychic who lightly smiled.

"Know what?" Rusti's voice sounded small in the large room filled with other sleeping ladies. "I'd love to have a glass of milk and some chocolate chip Cookies."

Chy-Chaunam's smile broadened. "I'm sure we can get that for you."

Rusti spoke again as the psychic turned. "But, I'd rather not eat here, if that's okay."

"The common room, perhaps?"

Rusti did not argue when Chy-Chaunam insisted she use a wheelchair. The two of them entered the common room, occupied by one other person who sat in a corner and stared out the gigantic picture window overlooking the garden and the water fountain. The wall beside the window supported a huge TV screen. A live action film played in silence. Rusti did not recognize it. An older female in light skin and brown eyes brought in a glass of milk and a plate of fresh warm Cookies. Rusti thanked her and the lady laid a hand on the girl's shoulder before leaving.

Chy-Chaunam requested a cup of kreefe and sat at the same table. She waited until Rusti nibbled on her second cookie before sending a pleased smile. "It's wonderful that you've come this far, hon. You realize that, don't you?"

Rusti shook her head and took another bite. The Cookies were almost as good as her grandmother once made them.

"I can't imagine what you've been through," the nurse continued. "But you are here and that's what's important."

Rusti bounced her gaze from the ceiling to Chy-Chaunam. "I'm guessing you're saying that, presupposing it's good that I survived a type of hell." Rusti looked back to the last cookie on her plate. She waited a moment, expecting the psychic to say something. But when Chy-caunam did not, Rusti spoke her mind. "You know, I don't think survivors really are any luckier than those who died. Not really."

"Why do you say that?"

"Scars."

"Scars often heal, Rusti."

Rusti leaned back and picked up her last cookie. "You think so?" she watched the psychic shrug.

"Time heals all wounds."

"I see." the young lady's gaze turned cold. "You know, that's right up there with 'better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all.' It's one of those crappy, half-truths invented by people who have never suffered themselves."

Chy-Chaunam's express turned stoic. "Everyone experiences tragedy and heartache at least once in their lives."

"But not everyone experiences war," Rusti argued. "The dead pile up and their souls move elsewhere. But the survivors suffer many times over. The survivors live on and tell the tale until they see the day when their tale is treated like a lie. No one will ever want to hear my stories. I don't want to hear my stories."

"Hope, Rusti. Where there is life, there is hope. You can't allow anger and bitterness to burry any happiness you might otherwise have. To survive is to live long enough to cover the scars with happiness, to replace dark memories with beautiful ones. You will find it, Rusti. But it takes time. You need to give it time."

Rusti stared at the glass now empty of milk. "I don't know how long we were there on Bare Anches. I can't count the number of days we were on Cratis. But I remember the constant stench of the air, the dirty, sunless sky. I remember the crappy water-and shortage of it." The girl's mind drifted as mental photographs passed behind her eyes. "I was always worried for Optimus and Roddi. They were so, so sick." she fell quiet again and stayed that way for a while. Her eyes drifted down as emotions and memories slowly untangled one microfiber at a time. "I was so helpless to help them. And there's nothing I can do for them now."

Chy-Chaunam jumped on that one: "there is one thing you can do, Rusti." she waited until the young lady looked her in the eye. "You can survive. You can live on so that they will have you in their lives."

Rusti's blood turned cold. "What makes you say that? Why would you say something like that to me?"

"Because I sense a terrible despair among all the Q-virus survivors.I understand why some of them wish to end their suffering by their own hands. Some of them have changed their minds by now. Others teeter on the edge, waiting for something to give them hope."

"And you feel it from me?" Rusti didn't know whether to be angry or scared; she did not like how the psychic read her.

"Some of it," Chy-Chaunam confessed. "There's a great deal about you I don't understand."

"I wouldn't want you to," the young lady returned sharply. "I've had enough poking and prodding. I am not a test animal!"

"It's not to hurt you," the psychic said gently. "We are only here to help."

Rusti clammed up and sent her gaze inward, staring into nothing while memories flipped through her head; shuffling moments like numbers on a deck of cards. When her mind found one solid sequence, it played back the chase Delta gave. Rusti failed to recall whether or not she was even scared. After a pause, she decided the chase was not nearly as frightening as when the femme picked her up.

"She's dead," Rusti muttered without meaning to.

"Who's dead?" Chy-Chaunam asked.

"The femme. Paratron." she took a deep breath and squirmed in her chair. "Her name was Delta. She took 'creepy' to a whole other level. Don't think she was possessed by the Virus but I'll never really know." again Rusti fell quiet while her mind whirled with fleeting images. She herself was so sick that she could have hallucinated everything. "Galvatron..." now she met Chy-Chaunam's eyes. "Galvatron. Is Galvatron okay? I think he was there. I think-I think he came to my rescue. Do I look like the classic damsel in distress?"

The psychic lightly smiled. "He is fine, but yet unconscious. Did you wish to see him?"

Rusti mutely shook her head. She didn't feel like doing anything. Besides, it all-all of it-required far more energy than she could scrounge between her heart and her body.

Two days passed at a snail's speed. Rusti allowed the medical assistants to wheel her back and forth between her bed and the common room. Many other women occupied the room, all of them wore the same masks of confusion, despair and weariness as Rusti. A few of them played games. One or two put puzzles together. Most watched the TV and three, sometimes four, sat and stared out the window. One by one, the women took on enough mental and emotional strength to venture outside on their own. Rusti merely allowed the nurses to take her outdoor where she sat half in shade, half in gentle sunshine for an hour or so. The garden around the med facility was beautiful; half primped by yard workers and half wild.

Four days after her discussion with Chy-Chaunam, a male nurse took Rusti outside in the late of morning. She thanked him with a quiet voice when he laid a novel under her hand and a glass of iced tea on a stand beside her. She thumbed through the book, flipping pages with little to zero interest. She did, however, take a liking to the local wildlife. Birds and squirrels ventured out for a moment to nab treats or satisfy their curiosity. Rusti liked the black-and-white striped squirrels. They played much like kittens along the grasses, chasing each other and skittering from tree to tree.

"Hey," a familiar voice called from above.

Rusti looked up and to the right and grinned at Arcee. "Heyy!" she greeted. The femme settled on the lawn beside her and they watched the squirrels a moment. "How have you been, Arcee?"

The femme hesitated. "Manic. How about you?"

"Tired. Listless. Pathetic and bored." she watched the femme nod and silence stretched between them before Arcee pointed to the book under Rusti's hand.

"Reading?"

Rusti lifted the book and frowned at it. "No. They're issuing everyone one of these. I'm just not into reading right now."

"Don't you think it odd that they've handed you a book that looks like something from Earth rather than a digipad?"

Rusti honestly did not think it strange. But Arcee was right. The summary of 'The Mountain Tempest' promised a story of a dragon, a female village outcast and a massive army of trolls under a sorcerer's command. Simple enough a plot. But what caught Rusti's attention was the cat listed as one of the main characters. "They might have picked it up from some other planet-Lunarphyte or other." As she laid the book down, Rusti noticed her nails and their gruesome condition. She scowled. "You know, I'm going to see if they have any nail polish here."

"Nail polish?" Arcee echoed. "What for?"

Rusti examined both her hands and shook her head. "You know, I haven't worn nail polish since... I can't remember. I think nail polish would make a nice change."

"A change from what?"

Rusti shrugged. "You know. From where you are in the present. I dunno. Sometimes when I get tired of the same-old, same-old, I like to spruce up, change my wardrobe so that it feels like I'm making a slight change in my life."

"And nail polish will do that?"

Rusti laughed. "Well, it's a start. At least I'll feel a little more like me because I'm in charge."

When she looked to Arcee, both ladies spotted movement along the pavement several yards away. Blaster, running at full speed, suddenly stopped before the common room's picture window. He flinched and screamed. He ran to another window, screamed again. He found a glass door not far from there, spotted his reflection and screamed yet again.

"It's not me! It's not me!" he cried. "It's not me! It's not me!" and he disappeared round the building.

Both ladies craned their neck as if expecting to see him again. "Huh." they echoed.

*********

Convoy listened as Alto reported another list of complaints filed by Paratrons from all over the fleet. Actually, she half listened, played a game of solitaire and nursed a flagon of energon. She turned up three bad draws, frowned and reshuffled her deck of fleximetal cards.

"... oh and Drox says that Littlefield is picking on him unfairly and wants a transfer."

"Denied," Convoy answered easily.

"He said that if you said that, he wants to speak with you directly."

Convoy grunted and laid out her cards. "You can tell Mr. Not-That-Important that he will not want to see me. If I have to see him in person, I will give him the same answer I've given him all week. I will write him up and give him something unpleasant to do."

Alto lowered her digipad. "You know, Captain, you're not very good at imitating Magnus."

"Of course not," Convoy returned smoothly. She turned a card over. "I'm a girl." As she turned another card, two Autobots led-or rather half dragged-Blaster's panic-stricken form with them. Convoy turned to them here comes part two of our new dramatic dilemma, she thought. "What's going on?" she asked calmly.

"It isn't me! It isn't me!" Blaster squealed. coming from the communications officer, the words sounded strangely normal. "I mean, I'm not red! I mean-"

Paratron colt took half a step in front of Blaster and Hard Tack. "He's been saying that since he was released from medbay. He ran around like a madbot-"

"It's not ME!"

Convoy slouched in her seat, one arm over the chair's back, her head resting against her palm. "Let me guess," she said smoothly, "you must be Apogee."

The wibbling sound emitted from Blaster's lip components made colt snigger and snort. 'Blaster', AKA Apogee, dropped to the knees and shouted "GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Rusti took to therapy like a bird to a bath. The medical staff had to keep her on a tight schedule so that she did not overwork herself. Torn muscles and sharp pain or not, the young lady insisted she not stay in the wheelchair longer than she had to.

"How did you damage so much muscle tissue?" one physical trainer asked.

Although tempted to give him a smart remark, Rusti remained polite. "I don't know. I don't remember a lot of things right now. I know they had to strap me to the bed at one point. I think something chased me, but I don't remember that very well, either."

"Something chased you? Like what?"

Scant images flashed through her mind but nothing stayed long enough for her to process it all. Rusti shook her head, sighed and frowned. She thought of his question throughout the massage session and later through dinner. Try as she did, Rusti conjured nothing other than a headache. Chy-Chaunam approached her after dinner and cajoled her into joining a game of plinkos. Similar to bingo, Rusti ran through the motions, paying little to no attention to those around her.

Before the third game started, a young male in deep purple skin and black tattoos took the front of the room and played a solo guitar. Rusti stared at her board, half listening to the unfamiliar notes. She wondered if someone was willing to take her to the Crested Moon.

"Hey, aren't you that Witwicky girl with the freakish blue eyes?" Rusti looked up to meet a woman not much older than herself. Her curt short dark hair curved about her face and accentuated her large eyes.

Ormaythian, or so Rusti guessed. She shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The thin Ormaythian sat across the table. Her three friends sniggered behind her. "I think you do. Where did you get your powers? I thought you were human."

"I am human. But what if I'm not?" Rusti defended.

"Are you a psychic?"

"What if I am?" Rusti sneered in turn. She glanced at the girls behind the Ormathain. They returned her hard gaze with icy glares.

"I think the Autobots have a right to know that someone has been tampering with the Matrix. So tell me, Witwicky, you trying to turn into an Autobot?"

Rusti wondered what the female's problem was. "I don't think it's any of your business."

The lady leaned over, too close for Rust's liking. "My little boy is dead. I'm making it my business. The Matrix destroyed my life-"

"What do you want me to do?" Rusti sneered in turn. "You want me to tell it to write you an apology, kiss and make up?"

Rusti's head snapped to the right. Several gasps and soft cries of surprise met her ears before pain registered on her left cheek. The woman in front of her didn't slap as hard as Delphra, but it was enough to raise adrenaline levels. Rusti stood from her wheelchair as two orderlies approached the table. "We can take this outside," she offered.

"Just fucking stay away from me, freak," the female snarled. A burly orderly took her by the shoulders and led the alien and her pack of chics out the room. Another orderly firmly pushed Rusti back in her chair.

Rusti skulked and eyed everyone around her with a tempered sneer. They turned away but the damage was done.

The female's words burned into Rusti's head and they rattled about like a pair of loaded dice. Try as she did to reason against the verbal barbs, Rusti failed to find sleep. She considered asking for a sleep aid but thought a warm cup of milk was a better idea. Knowing if she did not use the silly wheelchair, her self-appointed psychic mother hen would seek her out. Rusti wrapped her robe snugly about her, settled in the chair and rolled her way to the cafeteria.

The cook on duty offered to make her a sandwich or Cookies, but food failed to pique Rusti's interest. Armed with warm milk in hand, the young lady parked herself in front of the huge window and stared out the darkened world.

How could so much happen in so short a time? What was next? Rusti heaved a sigh and for the first time in months, attempted to reach out to Optimus then Rodimus. But locked in stasis by their own dreams, neither returned her soft telepathic touches. She drifted in a sea of solitude, polluted by impatience and worry.

A flicker of light caught her attention. Rusti batted her eyes and stared left toward the tall elm trees. No. Her head taunted her with hallucinations. That thought led to Trevor, the psychic projection. Long since gone, she wondered how old the space station was. Rusti hoped to never see something like that-Trevor AND the science outpost-ever again.

Another flicker of light flashed, this time directly in front of her. She gasped, leaned forward and almost tipped the chair. "Ohmigod!"

The night worker abandoned the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. "what? What's wrong?"

Rusti pointed toward the patio. "Something's out there!" Rusti called like a little girl.

"Why, those be starflies, my dear." the cook's smile broadened. "Haven't you not seen starflies before?"

"Fireflies," Rusti said softly. "No, there are no fireflies-or starflies-in Oregon." As she continued to watch, more and more starflies popped into view until a chorus of lights blinked before her in an unsynchronized dance. "How long will they be out?"

The cook hesitated a moment. "Mmmm... I'd say they'll be out all night. They usually start right by sunset and light the world for five or six hours." The mid-aged lady watched Rusti as the young woman's face lit with delight.

"Will they be here for another week or so?"

The older female huffed with light laughter. "Honey, they'll be here clear to autumn! Something has to keep those pesky blood bugs under control!"

Rusti soundlessly repeated the name: "Bloo-blood bugs-wait, what?"

Rusti woke to the screams of an urgent siren. People rushed back and forth in the hallway, trading information and orders. None of the other ladies sharing her room knew anything. Rolling her blankets back, Rusti swung her legs over the edge, intending to get answers.

"You're not supposed to leave the room," one 30-something woman remarked. "They're securing the place."

"What's going on, then?" Rusti asked. The woman only shrugged and popped a piece of candy in her mouth. Refraining from frowning, Rusti tugged on her slippers and went for the door. She peeked out while a squad of humanoid soldiers dressed in full gear marched toward the common room. They each held a lightweight laser rifle in their arms as they marched with purpose. Rusti closed the door and returned to her bed, baffled.

********

Convoy's pet chinchilla squeaked to life and wrapped himself around her neck as she lay in recharge mode. When that did not work, he laid on her head and held still for five seconds. He squirmed again and scratched the back of his ear. Cookies softly chittered and wormed his way from Convoy's head to her midriff. He rolled his round body into a ball and with a deep breath, settled. Ten seconds later had the furry creature up and walking all around his owner. Convoy scrunched her face, half annoyed.

"Cookies, go to sleep!"

Someone called her on her private comline. With a groan born of frustration, Convoy sat up, grabbed her pet and propped him on her left shoulder. "If this is not a travel agency calling to confirm my vacation on Serpens, you'd better have a really, really good reason to call me."

"commander, we have a situation."

"That's not saying much, Alto. What situation?"

Alto hesitated, emptying the communication line with concern. "Perhaps you should come and look for yourself, Ma'am."

With a soft grunt, Convoy left her room, chinchilla in tow, and followed Alto's coordinates. Two miles outside the 'safety radius', the temporary Autobot leader joined Titanium, Gryph and three Autobots on patrol duty. "All right," she grumbled, "what's this all about?"

Gryph pointed to a mountain cove that dropped sixty feet below them. But it was Titanium who spoke: "Terrorcons."

Convoy stepped to the edge of the precipice, crouched low to the ground and enhanced her visual scanners. "What the pitt are they doing?"

Gryph answered this time: "believe it or not, they're playing."

Convoy directed her confused gaze to her fellow femme. "Playing? As in..."

"As in kittens," Titanium answered. "Kittens. we've only seen four of them, however."

Convoy stood and backed away. "Okay, I know next to nothing about Terrorcons. care to fill me in?"

Titanium nodded. "According to Doctor Gates, they appeared on scanners just ten minutes ago. No reason or explanation is forthcoming. From what Jacket, here, says, one of them, Blot, is missing."

Convoy drew herself up, mortified. "Those things have names?"

"Hun-Gurr, Sinnertwin, Cutthroat and Rippersnapper. Without Blot, they can't combine."

Convoy dropped her chin. "They're a gestalt?" She turned away when Titanium silently nodded. "And let me guess," she added, "they can fly." Another nod followed her assumption. "Well... has anyone tried to communicate with them? Have they made any demands or attempts to attack?"

Jacket stepped up, right hand raised. "I tried, Ma'am. They looked at me but didn't answer as if they couldn't understand what I was saying. They just... went back to playing."

Convoy settled her gaze on the four misfit Decepticons. They appeared heedless of everything but each other. They wrestled and tackled, ambushed and pounced on each other. Titanium was right, they acted like kittens at play. She watched them for five full minutes, arms folded, Cookies perched on her right shoulder. "well, she said at length, "set up watch here with a short defense perimeter. I dont' want any surprises." here she turned to Jacket, pointing a stern finger at him. "Don't feed them, Jacket. clear?"

"As glass, Ma'am."

"I want updates every forty-five minutes. Post six people here. I don't care how bored they might get, I want no fewer than six people here at all times... at least until I figure out what to do with them."Someone bleeped for Convoy's attention. Glaring at the sky, the lady captain cupped her left audio receptor. "Which ship is this?"

"It's Arcee on your ship, Captain," Her voice carried a sense of anxiety. "Um, Wheeljack asked me to-"

"Wheeljack's awake?!" Convoy would have squealed and leapt for joy but thought better of it. She grinned madly. "You tell him to meet me at the Dancing Siren and tell Blaster and Apogee to meet us Level Three, room 447-D."

Truth be told, Convoy never stepped into the Dancing Siren once during their entire journey. Yet most of the ships were designed with similar and basic layouts and usually Autobots had little to no trouble navigating their way without a map. Anyone else, however, usually required something just shy of a tour guide. Convoy stepped into the medical room with high hopes. She warmly greeted Wheeljack with a handshake before turning first to Blaster's body, then Apogee. Convoy found it laughable how Blaster's body stood with his legs close together, fingers interlaced and mouth shut while Apogee's physical form sat backward in a chair, head lolling from shoulder to shoulder in boredom.

"Okay," Wheeljack took up a digipad, scrolled through it then turned to Convoy. "from what I've been told and read in the last five minutes, these two have switched meta-processors?" Everyone in the room answered him with a nod.

Blaster spoke with Apogee's voice, "dude, this is wrong on more levels than I can conquer in a game. You've seriously got to do something."

Wheeljack glanced from one victim of circumstance to the other. "Heh, puts a whole new spin on 'identity theft'."

Blaster's face turned downward in a silent pout. Wheeljack saw it and gave the girl inside an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Apogee. This is just... weird." The Autobot scientist looked to Convoy, "Look, Captain, Ma'am. I'll need an assistant-"

"Trinket," Convoy instantly answered. "I'll send her here immediately."

Wheeljack nodded, "I'm also going to need any recordings we might have of our journey from Bare Anches. I need to find out exactly what took place and see if I can't reverse the effects on these two."

Apogee's face dropped before Blaster spoke: "Dude! You mean you have to study first? Seriously?"

Wheeljack held up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm not a psychic, okay?"

Convoy's expression lit with an idea. "No, but we have psychics among us."

Chy-Chaunam labored six days in a row to reason with Daniel Witwicky. Samiko assigned the psychic healer to Witwicky who, during that time, about drove the healer to madness. Daniel himself found another target for his rage, frustration and resentment. Convoy thought it suitable to allow Daniel to breathe fresh air. He wanted out of his cell, she complied. Daniel did not expect the Razor Lady's captain to put a collar around his neck. In his rabid protest, Daniel failed to notice that his digipad disappeared from his cell. He cried foul and trashed his cell as much as he could with his bare hands.

"I want. To see. My daughter." Witwicky demanded over and over. Everyday, each session with Chy-Chaunam started and ended the same.

Her reply also remained the same: "you have not earned the right to see your daughter nor does she want to see you."

"You think I'm a bad person, don't you?" he finally said, now eight days into their psycho-games.

"What I think is irrelevant," she returned. "This is about you, your sense of responsibility, your own refusal to treat others with dignity and respect."

Daniel huffed. "Yeah, well, they don't respect me. How can I respect someone who won't respect me?"

She kept her face impassive. "I, me, I, me. it's all I ever hear from you, Daniel. For a full week all I hear is how unfair everyone is to you."

"I am the one who's locked up! So, suddenly now I'm supposed to be perfect? Make no mistakes?"

"Malicious intentions, acted out or not, are not mistakes, Daniel. You chose to destroy property. You chose to insult others. No one made you destroy your cell. No one held a gun to your head and told you to throw your food on the floor. Your behavior is grossly puerile, uncivilized and socially unacceptable. No one wants to be around someone who acts like a barbarian."

"It's not fair that they put me in a cage then expect me to be happy about it!" Daniel folded his arms across his chest and glared at the psychic. The room they currently held him in contained four walls, a table and two chairs. No pictures, no other furniture.

"They put you in a cage because they were tired of putting up with you. People can only take so much attitude before they react. You landed here because of your uncivil behavior. You attacked your daughter, Daniel! How can you possibly expect her to want to be around you?"

"I only hit her. I didn't shoot her."

"You inflicted pain, Daniel! No one likes pain."

"She wouldn't listen-"

"You attacked her! How dare you expect someone-anyone-to listen to you when you inflict pain? Who do you think you are?"

"I'm her FATHER!" Daniel shouted. He almost left his seat then remembered the rules: leave the seat, return to the cell.

"Irrelevant," Chy-Chaunam retorted.

"Pfffp." He rolled his eyes.

"Let's talk about Arcee," Chy-Chaunam suggested.

"Let's not," Daniel sneered. "and say we did."

Unintimidated, Chy-Chaunam closed the file on her datatablet. "Okay. I'm guessing that will be enough for today." She stood to leave and gathered the pad and her cup of kreefe.

"I want to see my daughter," Daniel kept his voice light and respectful.

"No."

"Dammit! Convoy promised me I could!"

"She made no promises, Daniel. Nor did she agree to anything you wanted. For once in your miserable life, be content with what you have and where you are."

Daniel's face hardened with rage, "you just think you're so smart."

Chy-Chaunam did not meet his eyes as the guard opened the door for her. "It's not about me, Daniel." The minute she left the secure room, Chy-Chaunam leaned against the hallway wall and heaved a great sigh. She wondered if she could talk Samiko into giving her a different job. Working with the Witwicky girl was not nearly as taxing as the girl's enraged, bitter, self-absorbed father.

Three days later brought rain to the island. A strong thunderstorm smacked the sky with the clang-boom of thunder and great strikes of lightning that lit the world bright as a summer day. The rain itself watered the island as if the sky were afraid the island was dying of dehydration. The storm lingered eight hours and died down to a drizzle for another three. A lot of people watched the storm as if they never encountered one before. Several weeks of misery on cratis followed by the horrors of Bare Anches weighed the soul of every refugee, Autobot and Humanoid alike.

Rusti sat in the patio at a small table. The doctors released her from the wheelchair two days before and although her body reminded her of delicate state, she relished the freedom of walking on her own. With the book under her hands, she gave the storm greater attention than the story. She believed the thunderstorm brought a secret healing power, known and felt only by those who lived under its territory. Rain visited Fort Max and central city throughout the year and not just in one season or another.

If only Optimus were there to enjoy it.

As the rain softened to a heavy mist, Chy-Chaunam stepped onto the patio and greeted Rusti with a trying smile. She shivered a little upon approaching the table and glanced out the garden. "A bit chilly today."

Rusti smiled lightly. "It's perfect. cloudy day, heavy rain, loud thunder. It's almost like being home." she sipped from her glass of iced tea and focused on the greenery spread before her like nature's own royal courtyard.

Chy-Chaunam proffered her hand to the chair beside her. "Mind if I join you?" Rusti silently accepted and the psychic claimed the spot. "So, how have you been?"

Rusti's face lost its light and the smile. "Okay, I suppose. Better than some of the other women, not as well as others. They held a funeral for two girls yesterday. They were fifteen, had the Q-Virus. They had it bad." She somberly shook her head. "I still don't know how I survived."

Chy-Chaunam nodded once. "Not everything that happens is evil, Rusti. Good things happen, too. If all we concentrate on is the sorrow and the bad things, that's all we'll ever see."

Rusti smiled but it was not a happy smile. "Did you get that from a fortune cookie?"

The psychic looked confused. "It's a fact of life."

"Oh, I see," Rusti returned coldly, "See, now I suspect you have an ulterior motive for visiting me. It's not all, 'hi, Rusti, how's your life', no, instead it's 'hi, girl, I'm trying to break the ice here because I'm about to make you uncomfortable." Rusti watched as the alien beside her sit straight up, face set between confession and embarrassment. Rusti smirked at her own wild guess. She picked up her iced tea. "What?"

Chy-Chaunam recalled the warning Samiko gave her about Rusti. However, she did not think the girl's bitterness utilized scathing sarcasm. She hesitated, knowing the ground between herself and the Human floated fragile as thin ice. "Your father... he wants to see you."

"whooo...ouch." Rusti sat back and stared past everything. Disbelief turned her face blank, the air between them awkwardly stiffened. Rusti held still for five seconds before sipping more tea. "well, I don't want to see him." Her eyes locked with Chy-Chaunam's. "I'm an adult and I am free to make that decision. He can't force me to do anything anymore."

Chy-Chaunam picked her words carefully so that while to the point, she considered the young lady's state of mind. "I know... that what your father did to you was cruel and thoughtless. Perhaps even criminal. But... doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?"

Rusti looked away. Her heart constricted and her lungs failed to bring in air. Her eyes burned before tears fell over her cheeks. Her mouth ran dry and she tried to swallow the rock at the base of her throat. She wiped the tears off her right cheek. "Do the Quintessons who did this to me deserve a second chance? Really? Just how much do you know about that freak that loaned his DNA to me?" Rusti did not give Chy-Chaunam time to answer. She finally swallowed and drained her tea. "I just found out yesterday that I will never have children. The abominations who did this to us-to all of us-ruined any chance we might have had to have a family. They stole that freedom to decide. I heard one lady's husband won't talk to her and transferred to another ship. So... no, not everyone deserves a second chance. A pet wolf is still a wolf. My father has always been an asshole and he will continue to be an asshole. Why do I want to make myself miserable just because he thinks he's earned or deserved to be my father? He didn't raise me, Chy-Chaunam."

"He is still your family," the psychic softly insisted.

"Family is overrated," Rusti quickly returned. "The only real family a person has are those people who want to be your family, who want to share your life. I am nothing to that man except property."

Arcee continued to aid mothers and nurses with the children as they returned to life. Although she found childcare an interesting occupation, the femme wasn't all that sure if childcare was what she wanted. She wasn't sure of much of anything, even after two months post-Bare Anches. Springer awoke earlier in the same week and Convoy immediately donned him captain of the covenant. Arcee approached the Autobot warrior with congratulations and while Springer was polite and friendly enough, both of them knew their former love died years ago.

Leaving the bridge for a short break, Springer offered her a 'Jon-spike'-a shot of high-octane energon from his private stash. They sat outside at the base of the mountains, facing the ship. "They tried to cajole me inta taking over the Sabor's claw," he said to lighten the mood between them.

"What did you tell them?"

"I just gave Convoy the ol' 'hell no'. well, you know, Convoy, she knows how to get around your answers to get what she's after. So I'm stuck with the Covenant. Not too bad, really. At least I don't have to deal with a bunch of traitorous rebels. Titanum's got that up his aft. He's even had to throw a couple o' bots at the brig on his own ship."

"Sounds pretty serious," Arcee tried to sound interested.

Springer shrugged and leaned back. "Ah, he's a big boy. He can handle it."

"The Covenant will probably need to be re-inventoried, won't it?" Arcee grasped for anything to keep the conversation going. She tried to think of a way to politely excuse herself on friendly terms with Springer.

"Yeah. Magnus' shopping spree has stuff crammed into every crevice, corner and crack in six ships. Thank Primus I only got one to take care of. Gryph has four."

Arcee grimace and looked away. Gossip down the assembly line said that Gryph was recruiting every free hand to aid in the inventory. Arcee suddenly realized how wonderful her present job was.

Springer suddenly sat up, cupped a hand to his right audio and nodded. "Well, they're playing my song, so I'd better get back." he stood, but did not offer to help her to her feet. "Take care, Arcee."

"Thanks," she returned. "You too. And thanks for the 'Jon-spike." He wordlessly waved before transforming to 'coptor mode and flew toward the covenant. The femme herself remained in her spot and stared at nothing and everything. She recalled Samiko's words a few days before. But she still had no clue where to start. Was their life after Daniel?

Twenty minutes brought a sense of boredom and Arcee decided to leave the charred and burned valley for greener glens. She returned to the medbay grounds and smiled when Streetwise approached from the other direction. He waved and smiled before they passed. Goove in his motorcycle mode shadowed his Protectobot brother from a distance. He beeped in greeting and Arcee waved to him. Out a fifty-yard distance, the femme heard the laughter of playing children. That was a sound no one heard in a very long time. Even on cratis the children rarely had time to play.

Ker-plunk-splash!

Ker-plunk-splash!

Arcee followed the unfamiliar sound round a rocky upheaval to her left. She passed a trio of white elm trees and found Rusti Witwicky standing at the edge of a large pond. She lifted a large rock and dunked it into the drink. The girl turned with no indication of emotion in her eyes. She picked up a smaller rock and sank it in the pond.

"Hey, Arcee," she greeted.

"You're not using the wheelchair."

"Nope!" Rusti picked up another good sized rock and threw it. "Had enough of nurses, trainers and baby food." She tossed a smaller rock then faced the femme. "Especially psychics," she amended.

"Me too," Arcee frowned. "What are you doing?"

"clearing frustration."

"I see." More than that, the femme thought, Rusti physically wore herself out. The young lady dropped her rear on a large flat rock and started at the waterfall. "Would you mind a little company?"

"I'd love that, thank you." Rusti push a smile on her face, though it did not light her eyes. She laced her fingers as Arcee found a spot beside the pond's edge. "I thought about asking someone to take me to the Crested Moon. But once there, all I'd do is worry about Optimus."

"I've heard he and Rodimus are fine, just still unconscious." Arcee suppressed a squirm when the girl's grey eyes landed on her with suspicion. Was there anything normal about this girl?

"No one can tell me whether or not Optimus and Roddi are still infected, Arcee. It's irritating." Her gaze returned to the waterfall.

Arcee chose her words carefully. "If something happened, do you think you would have felt it... at all?"

Rusti's face scrunched with bewilderment. She did not look at the femme. "I actually don't know." Her thoughts drifted a moment while they sat quietly. "I feel... I feel like I've been turned inside out then back, but not quite the same way." she huffed, "and then there's that psychic broad. Have you met any of the psychics?" Now Rusti looked to Arcee but with a softer gaze.

"Yes," Arcee answered quietly. "I don't know why they're with us or where they came from. So... one of them visited you?"

Rusti smiled again but not happily. "I feel like someone pried my cranium open and poked around with a pair of chopsticks."

Arcee tried to imagine what that felt like with organic brains. She failed. "You sound a little angry."

The young lady frowned. "She asked if I'd go see my dad."

Arcee's expression turned blank this time. "Those... people don't seem to... I don't know," words failed to express her own dislike for the Psycade. "Do you think she thinks that a visit from you will make Daniel a nicer person?" The question earned her a brief laugh. Rusti finally looked to her with a happier smile.

"Is that even possible, Arcee?"

Suddenly the femme felt a kinship with Daniel's youngest daughter. All their lives, Daniel intentionally kept Arcee separated from his family. She was the car, not a person. And although she did not blame his children, they too seemed to treat her the same manner. Maybe that wasn't the case after all.

"He's such a..." Rusti searched the sky. "I don't even have a word for him!" Then her smile dropped from her expression and tears reddened her eyes. "Ohmigod, Arcee, I am so, so sorry he was such a bottom-feeding dick toward you. I don't have the slightest idea what you've been through... it must be really hard."

Arcee looked away while she tried to smile. That smile never made it, however and she debated whether or not to tell the girl everything. On the other hand, Rusti, of all people, certainly understood her father. Arcee nodded. "I-I don't know how... I mean, he would not leave me alone. He will always hate me and I will always feel so... pathetic."

Rusti watched as Arcee battled over her emotions. On the outside, the femme was graceful, shiny and shapely like a brand new corvette. But inside, Rusti had no doubt Arcee felt more like a old car, trashed beyond recognition, rusted and dumped by the highway. "You know," the young lady finally said, "my sister knew how to piss my dad off in ways I never thought of. I mean, if someone's going to hate you, you might as well give them a real reason, right?"

Doubt shadowed Arcee's face. "what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that happiness is the best revenge. I'm saying that if my dad is pissed at you, then you might as well go all the way and piss him off to the point of blowing his top. Every time he gets mad at you, you win. That anger toward you is a sign that he has lost control. He can't do anything to you, or about you. I mean, yeah, I'm sure he's talked plenty of shit about you-and to you."

Arcee visibly flinched at the four-letter word. It brought a smile-a real smile-to her sad face.

"But that's how my dad is," Rusti continued. "He's always talked out his ass. But... they're words and from him, that's meaningless because he is meaningless. Yeah, he pisses me off. But I get right back at him... by loving Optimus and Roddi." Rusti turned quiet another moment, her gaze settled once again on the waterfall. She smiled to herself and muttered: "if only he knew I'm married to Optimus."

Arcee's lasercore froze. She stared at Rusti, mouth dropped as far as it would go. Did she hear that right?! No, no. No, no, don't ask! The femme knew something like that would spread like fire across the camp and could jeopardize everything between Optimus and Rusti. She laid a hand on her chest plate and raced to think of something else; to pretend she did not hear that. "You know..." again Arcee picked her words, "I... remember you mentioned nail polish. Have you used any yet?"

Rusti glanced at her crappy nails, long neglected since their departure from Earth. "No," she answered sadly. "I haven't even asked yet. I guess that... what was her name? Shy-something? I guess the talk I had with her distracted me." Her eyes climbed Arcee's taller form. "Funny you should ask."

"Well... a long time ago, Magnus and a couple of others, your father and I, ventured to this planet where I temporarily changed my color scheme."

Rusti batted her eyes in disbelief. "He let you change your colors?"

"Well... no, he was... sort of unconscious the whole time. I... suppose the atmosphere wasn't compatible with his exosuit."

Rusti's expression turned impassive. "Huh. 'magine that."

"So... I took the opportunity for a little freedom-"

"What was the color?"

"Blue." the femme grinned. "Magnus liked it."

"Ultra Magnus?" Rusti asked in conspiratorial tones. Arcee nodded and Rusti laughed.

...MISSION.

BEEP!

Pause.

...NS'MISSION.

BEEP!

Pause.

...cOMING TRANSMISSION.

BEEP!

Pause.

"coming...transmission..." Rusti sat up from deep sleep. The world held perfectly still in the quiet of night. "Incoming transmission," she repeated out loud. Her head slowly cleared the fog of inactivity. "Incoming transmission," she repeated. Then she realized what she was saying. "Incoming transmission!"

One of her roommates sat half up. "Shh!" she flopped back to sleep. Rusti ignored her, slipped on a white filly robe and left the room.

Rusti forgot her slippers but what raced through her head was too important to ignore. She entered the common room and searched for the night nurse. to the far left side, two older women sat across one another playing backgammon. Rusti approached, "Excuse me, who's the night nurse?"

"Went on her rounds, Luv," the Englishwoman on the left side answered without eye contact.

"I need to get a hold of the Razor Lady," Rusti explained. "It's important."

The lady to the right made her move then looked to her. "Even Autobots sleep sometimes you know. Especially at four in the morning." she paused a moment, "You're that Witwicky girl, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Both women frowned and continued their game. Rusti glanced from one to the other until she got the message. Fine, she thought, I'll just walk to the Razor Lady.

The night air greeted her with a goose-bump-inducing chill. Rusti ignored the temperature and the wet grass as she crossed the gardens and grounds surrounding the medical facility. Katydids vibrated from the trees, crickets from the ground and all fell silent in her wake. By the time she reached the edge of the scorched ravine, the hem of her gown dripped heavy with dew.

A magnesium light hit her as if it were a physical force. Rusti jumped and squeaked in a start. She hid her whole face from the overwhelming brilliance.

"Miss Witwicky?" Dogfight's voice came from an invisible body. "Is that you?"

"Yeah!" she shouted. "Now that you've blinded me, thanks."

"Oh." The light snapped off and now she couldn't see anything. "Sorry. Got a little excited."

"Yeah-":

"What are you doing out this time of night anyway? Aren't you cold? couldn't you sleep? Why are you all the way out here?"

"I need to talk with Convoy."

"Oh. Well, that's not a problem. I'll just take you there."

"No!" Rusti objected, "not flying-"

Another Autobot voice joined them: "Hey, Dog, saw your light. Everything okay?"

The corners of Rusti's lips tightened in annoyance. "I'm just-I need to talk to Convoy," she repeated.

Dogfight unintentionally swung his light toward Rusti again. "Naw, it's okay, Groove. She just wants t' talk to Convoy."

"Oh, well I'll take ya, Miss Witwicky. You got no shoes. It's probably not good for you to walk on this ground, anyway. Lots of glass."

"Okay. Thank you, Groove."

"Hey!" Dogfight protested. "I thought you said you didn't want a ride!"

"No," Rusti countered, "I said I didn't want to fly. I stay on the ground, Dogfight. No barrel rolls. Oh, and Groove, no stunt driving. You pull any fast ones and you'll be seeing the world from the inside if your shaft, got that?"

"No, Ma'am-I mean, yes, Ma'am. I got that."

True to his word, Groove carried Rusti safely and sanely to the Razor Lady. He escorted her to the bridge then returned to his post. Convoy sat in her captain's chair and signed a datatablet for Trixy. She returned the tablet and dismissed the femme before facing Rusti.

"Dogfight informed me you wanted to tell me something."

"Yes-um, yes... there's an incoming transmission."

"What?" the lady captain stood from her chair and approached the girl where she stood on the runway. "What transmission?"

"The Hannibal's Mark picked up a transmission."

Convoy turned toward Ambient who silently shook her head. She looked back to Rusti. "We're not picking up anything, hon. you might have been dreaming."

"No," Rusti corrected. "I know what the ship said. It's saying the sensors were disengaged three hours ago and the computer hasn't detected the problem." she paused before strengthening her voice. "You have to believe me, Captain. The Mark isn't lying."

Convoy chose to put a little faith in the girl. "Ambient, get me Gryph."

"I'm sorry, Captain. Gryph is currently in recharge."

"Get her anyway, Ambient!"

"Aye, Ma'am."

Gryph made everyone wait eleven minutes while she all but sleep-walked to her chair. She peered at the viewing screen with a drowsy frown. "Is there breakfast involved with this?"

"Gryph, Sweetie, you don't eat breakfast." Convoy lightly smiled when her fellow city commander slumped in her chair and grunted. "Gryph, Rusti tells me you have disconnected sensors and that your ship says there's a transmission coming in."

"I do? There is?" Gryph sat up and pointed to her temporary communications officer. "Uh, uh, Alto... if you please? Um, check the sensors. They might be offline... disconnected-Hey!" She faced the view screen and thereby Convoy. "what time is it, anyway?"

Hard Tack, Gryph's navigator and Convoy answered simultaneously: "Four thirty-eight A.M."

Gryph's expression turned not-so amused. "This couldn't wait for a more civilized hour?"

Rusti smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. The Mark sounded pretty adamant."

Alto swivelled around in her chair. "Captain, apparently six scanners were disconnected during entry."

Rather than say anything, Gryph stepped off the dais and hovered over Alto a moment. Convoy heard them discuss something while they punched into buttons and examined reports. After seven minutes, Gryph returned to the view screen. "Convoy, I'll have a full report submitted to you in two hours. Meantime, yes, we have some downed scanners and I have someone looking at them. Give us half an hour and we hope to have something for you."

Convoy folded her arms. "Thank you. We'll be waiting." Ambient cut communication and the lady captain looked to Rusti. "How about that?" She thought about the situation a moment longer then added: "I don't suppose you could tell me something about my ship, could you?"

"How do you mean?" Rusti hoped Convoy was not trying to put her in an awkward spot.

"I mean... can you tell me if there's anything wrong with the Razor Lady?"

Well, of course she'd end up in a spot! What else would Convoy find to do with her time? Keeping her face expressionless, Rusti concentrated and stretched her mind along the ship from stern to bow. A large, fuzzy Russian blue cat appeared just under the front main view screen. It stretched languidly and yawned before turning to Rusti with bored green eyes. Rusti blinked, uncertain if what she saw was real. Hold still, she told herself. Don't show anyone that you're seeing things.

"YOU'RE NOT SEEING THINGS," a female voice answered. Rusti blinked and kept her mouth shut. The cat glanced around the bridge then winked at the young lady. "I SEE YOUR PROBLEM. THEY SEE YOU, YOU SEE ME. I SEE THEM, BUT THEY DON'T SEE ME. PITY."

Convoy inclined her head, slightly impatient. "Rusti?"

"It's being a smart ass, Captain. Hold on."

The Russian blue looked surprised. "OH, A WISE ASS, AM I?" it softly laughed. "AH. AND HERE I THOUGHT I HAD CLASS."

Rusti batted her eyes. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. But I've never seen any of the ships take on a character form before.

"BEFORE WHAT? BEFORE BARE ANCHES? HONESTLY, CHILD, YOU SO UNDERESTIMATE YOURSELF!

Rusti frowned. "Just trying to be normal."

KITTEN, HOW COULD ANYONE WITH HAIR LIKE THAT BE NORMAL?

Rusti rolled her eyes. "A cat," she spat out loud. "Why did it have to be a cat?"

OH SCRAPE ME.

Ambient spared Rusti another round of cat-talk: "Captain, Gryph is on the line."

"Good!" Convoy stepped away from Rusti and stared expectantly at the view screen. Gryph smiled in greeting.

"We haven't seen the transmission yet, but I think we have everything ready." With a single nod from Convoy, Gryph and Alto opened the frequency. Although the visual provided not much more than a dark room coated by static, the audio rang clear. A masculine voice emerged from the transmission.

"...pretty much everyone I know is just cleaning house, right? So... 'ssons just scoured all the neighborhoods, threatening and spewing all this crap about how they killed millions and expect to kill millions more and that the Underground's been tanked. You know? It's just a load 'a horse shit."

A female's laughter filled the audio transmission and Rusti froze, forgot to breathe. She dropped to her knees the moment the female spoke.

"It is! It's totally all horse shit. They're doing what they can to distract people from what's going on."

"Ohmigod," Rusti wheezed, "it's Dezi! It's Dezi!!"

The male's relaxed, if slightly intoxicated voice returned. "Yeah, well, as long as they're slicing up Cybertron, they'll be busy for another few weeks. But once they're done, it'll be business as usual. And then what will they do for fun and games?"

Dezi's voice followed: "Don't worry, Nimbus. We're already planning to raid that zoo in Nebraska."

'Nimbus' laughed hard. "Are you serious?? Not that zoo with all the experiments!"

"One and the same!" Dezi answered cheerfully.

"Why?"

"Because as the Underground it is our solemn duty to survive first, thrive second then be a pain in their ass... although I know they don't have one-"

"Get out, Red! Do you seriously think you have the resources for that?"

As they talked on, Convoy lightly stepped beside Ambient and touched the communications officer's shoulder. "Turn this down and get me Gryph." A separate, smaller window appeared on the view screen displaying the Mark's bridge. "Hey," Convoy called informally. "Can you tell whether or not this is a live feed?" She watched as Alto shook her head before Gryph conveyed the answer verbally. Convoy frowned, thought about it, frowned again then smiled. "Ambient, get me Blaster, if you please."

As she sent a message to Blaster, Ambient received one from Grotesque. With a frown, the femme flipped the channel on and shook her head. "Sorry, Captain," she muttered.

"Heyyy!" Grotesque's voice rang with some enthusiasm.

"What is it this time, Grotesque?" Convoy returned wearily.

"You know my cousin? Not the chic, but Mr. Dino-sitter?"

"Yes."

"Well, he's there at the, uh, ravine, looking down at the Terrorcons like they're his next lunch."

"So?" Convoy returned impatiently. "You're a high-ranking officer, Grotesque. Do something-"

"Nah-uh. This is Repugnus we're talking about. He's got a problem with authority."

"Everyone has a problem with authority," Convoy snarled. "You tell him he either backs off or you'll repaint his aft."

"Seriously, Captain?" Grotesque huffed with disbelief.

"I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING, GROTESQUE! Take it up with either Hot Spot or Titanium."

Apogee's voice came through another channel: "Captain, Ma'am, they ain't fixed me yet. Ya gotta gimme more time t' git back to my original version!"

"I need you now, Blaster. I'll have Ambient contact Apogee and you can tell her how to do it."

Rusti looked to the cat. "She's talking to Apogee right now, isn't she?"

The grey cat yawned and stretched. "EH. THE LOUD-MOUTHED COMMS OFFICER AND THE MEDICAL DAME SWITCHED BODIES DURING THE TRANSIT."

"Oh," Rusti said quietly. "That's quite a problem."

The Razor Lady's character representation waved a paw downward. "I LIKE THE DAME'S VOICE BETTER. BLASTER WAS ALWAYS ANNOYING." Rusti shook her head and the cat scoffed. "WHAT? I'M NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE AN OPINION?"

"No, that's not it. I just find the situation incredulous."

"WELL, WHADDO THEY WANT HIM FOR, ANYWAY?"

Rusti's eyes followed the large cat as it neared her and hopped up the walkway. "Weren't you paying attention? They're trying to figure out whether or not it's live."

"WHAT'S LIVE?" The cat stared at the young lady when she scowled and squinted her eyes, irritated. "HEY, I'M JUST YANKIN' YOUR ANCHOR. WHY DON'T YOU JUST ASK THE HANNIBAL'S MARK? HE'LL TELL YOU."

"He?" Rusti inclined her head then swiftly covered the cat's mouth shut. "No, don't answer that."

"What?" the cat sneered irritably. "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU? WHAT'RE YOU ALL HUFFED UP ABOUT?"

"That I might be turning into some freakish version of a Disney princess!"

"WHY, CUZ YOU TALK TO MACHINES?"

Rusti glanced at Convoy as she and Repugnus entered a heated argument. All bets were off as far as Rusti was concerned; Repugnus wasn't going to win. Looking back at the cat, Rusti decided to push her reluctance aside, though she hated having to explain herself. "No one else around here talks to machines. So it makes me abnormal. Nobody likes abnormal."

"WHAT'S ABNORMAL?" Razor sneered. "YOU WANT NORMAL? YOU ISN'T GONNA FIND IT, GIRL. I GUARANTEE THAT. POINT TO ONE PERSON ON THE BRIDGE YOU THINK IS NORMAL." Rusti wordlessly pointed to Ambient and the cat scoffed. "YOU KIDDIN' ME? SERIOUSLY? LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT HER. AMBIENT MIGHT LOOK LEVELED AND SQUARED ON THE SURFACE. BUT THAT DAME CAN ROCK A MEAN FULL-BODY ELECTRIC GUITAR."

Surprise replaced Rusti's annoyance. "She plays music?"

"NO!" THE CAT HISSED, "SHE MAKES MUSIC. SHE WOOS THE AUDIO, MAKES LOVE TO THE SOUND. BLASTER PLAYS MUSIC, BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SOPRANO AND AN OCTAVE. SO BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM, WHICH CAT IS NORMAL? HMM?"

Rusti humbly nodded. "you're right," she conceded. "But I still feel like a badly-concocted character for a weak plot device; some dewy-eyed chic who talks to birds while she's cleaning house."

"WHO'S THE BIRD!?" Razor snarled offensively. "CHECK THIS OUT, YA RED-HEADED WUSSY! YOURS TRULY MIGHT BE THE NEIGHBORHOOD WHERE ALL THE PARENTS, THEIR RUG-RATS AND NON-OFFICERS CALL HOME. BUT I AIN'T NOBODY'S HELPLESS LITTLE SISTER! I GOT TRIPLE IMPERIAL A-13 INVERTED ION CANNONS ON BOTH STARBOARD AND PORT SIDES. I GOT THREE FORWARD-INVERSE TURRETS AT THE UNDERSIDE. MY MANEUVERABILITY IS WAY BETTER THAN THE COVENANT, THE VERTICAL HORIZON AND THE TRENCH DRIVER. AND UNLIKE MOST OF THE FLEET, I CAN REENTER PLANETARY ATMOSPHERE IN A SMOOTH DIVE, RAZORPLANE AS CLOSE AS THIRTY FEET AND STILL THRUST BACK TO THE SKY IN SIXTY-TWO SECONDS! AND I GOT SHIELDS, BABY! YOU GO AN' ASK THE COLD REFRACTOR WHAT HE'S GOT ON ME! I CAN TELL YOU TWO PLATES TO A GRATE THAT HE'S LUCKY HE CAN ORBIT A LOW-GRAV PLATFORM."

Rusti narrowed her eyes. "You really are a cat." By the time she returned her attention to the situation, Blaster and Apogee already tried to synchronize processor and equipment. Blaster, vocalizing from Apogee's vox box, tried to instruct Apogee how to use his body (awkward to her) to interface with the Mark's scanning and communication systems.

"No! Not that switch!" Blaster's warning came too late. Apogee used the wrong port with the wrong frequency and part of the comm board blew. A cloud of grey smoke followed her ineffective attempt. Blaster's voice, used by the femme, screamed in fear. his squared form jumped from the seat and danced in a panic.

Rusti did not notice that Convoy copied her facepalm, move-for-move. Looking to the cat, Rusti received another bored yawn. Naturally the Hannibal's Mark's crew scrambled to control the damage. Taking advice from the Razor Lady, Rusti reached out to the Mark, expecting little more than a status report and possibly a complaint or two.

WORKING. PROCEED WITH COMMUNICATION.

Rusti batted her eyes. "Well," she mumbled, "at least someone is home." As the Mark's bridge crew worked to dismantle and replace damage to the communications console, Rusti asked the Mark a short string of questions. Her heart leapt for joy when she received the one answer she was after. "It's live!" she said with joy. "Captain, it's live! Please let me speak to Dezi!"

"What?"

The cat intervened: "HONEY, I SHOULD TELL YOU THAT THE Captain, A SWEETHEART THAT SHE IS, ISN'T EXACTLY THE DIAMOND-TIPPED SAW WHEN IT COMES TO TECHNICALITIES."

Rusti threw the Razor Lady a dirty look. "You keep quiet," she ordered. Her eyes returned to Convoy who gazed at her with intense confusion. Rusti pointed to the cat, which obviously remained invisible to everyone else on board. ""Your ship obviously likes you, Captain. But she's a snit."

Razor snorted: "Oh, whatever."

Convoy hesitated a moment as though processing Rusti's accusations. "yes, I know she is. Now what were you saying just now?"

"I talked to the Hannibal's Mark and it told me the communication feed was live and that it's an open channel riding on the back of a quasar." Rusti did not move when Convoy sat in her chair and stared at her. The Razor Lady's captain kept her expression unreadable until she swung about in her chair. Pausing one more moment, Convoy snapped a button on the arm of her chair. "Gryph," she called, "is it possible to connect your communications relay to mine?"

Gryph came into view, standing in front of Blaster, Alto and Apogee while they worked and bickered. "I... I don't know, Captain," she returned. "It looks like our console will be down for a while-"

"Duuuude!" Apogee's voice sounded a little too loud. "We're hopping as fast as we can! This stuff's delicate, easily jammed." Blaster lowered her voice, speaking to Alto: "I'll speak in rhymes if I choose! Keep the frown to yourself and no more boos!"

Rusti hung back and kept patient while the Autobots finally fixed the damaged console, tested the system and finally adjusted the Hannibal's Mark for all necessary configurations. The visible representation of the Razor Lady closed its eyes in a cat nap. Rusti wondered if the cat was something of her own making or if the ship itself found a way to express itself to her. She was not surprised the ship had a personality, though she could not explain the hows, whys or mechanics of the phenomenon even to herself.

What if the visible facsimile was not limited to the Razor Lady? What if all the ships had the same potential? Talk about having invisible friends, she thought.

"WE GOT IT!" Apogee's voice rang through the bridge's comline. "Dudes and dudettes, we are ON THE AIR!"

Convoy and the Razor Lady spoke at the same time: "Man, that's just weird." Gryph's voice filtered from the background, ordering Blaster/Apogee to calm down so she could speak. Convoy slightly swivelled in her chair before thumbing another button. "Wheeljack, please tell me you and Trinket have made progress on Blaster's dilemma."

"Ehh... still workin' on it, Madam Captain. There's a long-aft list of meta-processor protocols that have to be addressed. Sorry. Looks like you'll have to listen to Blaster through Apogee's voice a while longer."

Convoy's voice dragged with disappointment. "Thanks, Wheeljack. Keep me posted."

"This is Nimbus on pirate radio frequency 44.9c straight off the planet Sram. Who's tapped my line?"

Convoy wheeled about and sent Rusti a hopeful glance. She stood and faced the view screen, although all she saw was the Mark's bridge. "My name is Convoy, captain of the Razor Lady, city commander of Fortress Horizon, Japan. Can-can you actually hear us?"

A long pause followed Convoy's formal salutation. Two minutes. Four... "Copy that, Razor Lady, we hear you loud and clear." cheers and applause followed Nimbus' returned greeting. Everyone shushed everyone else when Nimbus spoke again: "You are riding on night-shift quasar frequency-q-freak-of 110.87 I-hertz. What can I do for you?"

"I speak on behalf of the Autobot refugees departed from Earth, Earth date September, 2038." Convoy grinned when she heard a chair squeak and items fall to the floor from the other end.

"Holy Christ! What's your serial number? code? Passcode? Who's with you?!"

"Uhhh, passcode 10.23.2016.04.13Bon Jovi."

Three minutes passed before Ambient turned about, puzzled. "Captain, what's with the music-"

"SH!" Convoy did not look at her. She watched Gryph sit in her chair, nervously bouncing her right foot. Fort Draco's city commander quietly requested a cup of warm 10-point with silver oxide.

Nimbus' voice came back. He sounded easy-going but Convoy also heard the tremor of excitement in his upper tones: "Razor Lady, this is Nimbus. Please confirm your passcode. Over."

Convoy dragged in a deep breath to cool her systems. "copy that, Nimbus. Razor Lady's Passcode is as follows: 10.23.2016.04.13.Bon Jovi. Over."

Again they waited. Rusti assumed they waited for the sake of distance and time barriers. The fact that they picked up anything at all came as nothing shy of a miracle. Unlike the other Autobots on the bridge, Rusti understood the passcode was a safeguard set up by Ultra Magnus to verify authenticity during war. The Quintessons and Inoux, no doubt, watched all communication frequencies very closely. How this Nimbus person rode his communication lines on the wave frequencies of a quasar was a technology unknown on Earth.

"copy that, Razor Lady," the young male's voice returned a little more businesslike. "Your authentication code is Tokyo Road.7800 Fahrenheit, 03.27.1985 .R-Sambora, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Over."

Convoy dropped back into her chair when relief rushed through her and dried her energy. She again drew breath and released it slowly. "Nimbus, you have no idea how good it is to hear from you! Do you require authentication from the other ships? Over." Convoy shifted her hips slightly. Waiting between communications exchange meant a long day, possibly a long night for her. She knew so many people will want to hear news of loved-ones, homes, the general status. But all of that had to wait. The lady captain submitted an internal request from the galley for a cup of energon for the all members of the bridge. She turned to Rusti. "It's going to be a while, hon." she warned. "Maybe you'd like to go and get something to eat."

"I'm not leaving, Captain," Rusti answered politely. "I mean, if you order me to, I will. But I've got to talk to Dezi, even if it's a few precious words!"

Convoy nodded with consent and faced forward again. Little did she know the cat lay perched at the back of her chair.

Convoy was not joking when she said Rusti had to wait. The price of communication with the Underground came with long series of high-security protocols. Every ship in the refugee fleet had to answer with their own authentication codes. Any risk taken by the underground dangled lives and freedom by a spider's thread. And Dezi was a stickler for details. Rusti fell asleep somewhere between the confiscator's and the Kummya's turn.

The bridge operated in near-silence for several hours. Because eight captains were down, Blaster had to sift through files, pads and tablets for passcodes. He found all but three. Five hours later, the communications officer via Apogee's voice and body, reluctantly admitted he found nothing on the last three codes. Truthfully speaking, Convoy was not surprised. Optimus, Magnus and Rodimus would never keep their passcodes on anything other than their own meta processor.

"Thank you, Blaster," the lady captain answered distractedly. "Relay all other information and report back to Wheeljack." Blaster signed off and Convoy hailed Nimbus then waited two more hours for his reply.

"Good morning and felicitations, Razor Lady, this is Nimbus on pirate radio frequency 44.9c. Over."

Convoy stood from her chair and stretched. "Nimbus, this is Captain Convoy on board the Razor Lady at two P.M. from Yolthanis III. Over."

Rusti awoke during the four-minute wait. Sleeping on the heard floor left her sore and exhausted. She stretched her back and tried to pop several stiff joints. Convoy pinned the young lady with steady optics.

"You're either patient, desperate or crazy to wait this long."

Rusti winced when several short bursts of pain attacked her arms and legs. Her body demanded food and drink. "I'll take Number Two, Captain," her voice cracked with duress.

"copy that, Razor Lady. We have received and verified your passcodes. However, my boss said there's three missing. You said nineteen ships? Over."

Convoy frowned. "We read you, Nimbus. Yes, there are nineteen ships total. Optimus, Rodimus and Ultra Magnus are currently comatose and have not left us with their passcodes. Over."

Four minutes felt like four hours to Rusti. She paced the upper walk to the entrance and back.

"Razor Lady, this is Dezi. Over."

Shock kicked Rusti's brain into momentarily forgetting everything else. She caught her breath at the back of her throat and spun to face the front: "DEZI!" she shouted, "DEZI! IT'S ME!" Rust swallowed air when Captain Convoy silently reprimanded her with a single look. But the girl's heart slammed too hard, too fast in her chest to be remorseful. The moment, awkward or not, pushed the four-minute delay and Nimbus' voice returned.

"We copy that, Razor Lady. Stand by."

Ten seconds dribbled like a slow-leaking faucet before another voice dispelled the hungry silence. "This is Dezi. Passcode edc. 15.2.16. cascade. Over."

Convoy turned to Rusti. "You will have to make up your own passcode, Rusti. It must be something simple with words, letters and numbers and something only you and Dezi will know." With that, the captain lifted her voice toward the comline. "copy that, Dezi. Over."

Rusti rushed her head, scanning across her entire life, looking for something only she and Dezi might know. Time ticked against her and her stomach begged for attention before she chose the perfect code. "Uh, Dezi... it's me. Um, 6.19.2021 chocolate strawberries." She hesitated then ended the message according to procedure. It took a few seconds for the girl to realize Convoy stared at her with curiosity. Rusti smiled coyly. "It's my very favorite dessert. Um, one year, though, my brother brought me some and she and I ate them and..." Rusti winced, "we were abducted by-"

"The Dopplegangers," Convoy finished.

"yeah. I guess I should have known better. Brian was an ass and..." dark and somber memories dragged Rusti's words away. Her eyes dropped to the floor and Captain Convoy spared her further questions.

A gentle chuckle bubbled over the comline and Dezi's voice followed. "copy that, chocolate Strawberries. My god, Resonna, I never thought I'd hear from you again! I-I'm seriously choking up right now. I'm shaking because hearing you guys are out there, still alive is the best... I don't know... unbirthday present? There's so, so much I want to say and we just don't have the time!" Dezi loudly sighed and blew her nose away from the microphone. The bridge crew heard her sniff and clear her throat before she spoke again. "Okay, listen up: we don't know how easy it is to pick up long-distance transmissions. So far the Quintessons and the Inox know nothing of our new system. So we have to be careful. We want to bring you guys home. But it's gotta be in the dark. Resonna, sweetie, I miss you like hell and I'll let Mom know that you're alive and breathing. We can't talk on a regular basis, but we will keep in touch. Over."

Rusti choked up with tears and covered her mouth, unable to answer. Convoy gave her a moment to compose herself but Rusti simply could not pull herself together to answer. The young lady shook her head when the captain sent her a quizzical look. Convoy nodded before submitting their answer.

"Copy that, Dezi. Rusti's a little overcome with happiness at the moment. She sends her love. Now, about this communication channel. How can we keep in contact with you?"

Rusti wanted to stay and listen longer just to hear her big sister's voice. Hearing Dezi after all this time filled Rusti's heart so that she thought it might burst. She slipped off the bridge and leaned against the nearest partition. Horror, shock, despair, depression all melted away and the breath of joy and hope replaced everything else. Optimus said Dezi was alive. But that was months...no, now it was years ago.

Razor found her and sat before Rusti. The cat's tail waved leisurely while staring at the young lady with expectant eyes. "It's good to see you happy."

"Thank you." Rusti stared into the cat, puzzling over her earlier question. "Razor, if I were to talk with the Confiscator or the Sabor's Claw or the other ships, would they take on a personality like you?"

"I don't know, Dear," the cat returned. "You see me as this because your inner self gave me the character. Not a bad one, I will say. But do you have enough in you to give the others a visible representation?"

"I have a pretty good imagination, if that's what you're asking. "I can only see you when I'm here on the Razor Lady, hu? I'm guessing you can't just go wherever you want."

Razor looked left when Alto approached and entered the bridge. Both cat and girl waited until the communications officer disappeared behind the doors to continue their conversation. "I don't have an answer for that, Darling. It's something you'll have to find out."

Rusti absently nodded. "That's, um, that's Alto, right?"

"Yes."

"Why is she here?"

"They're rewiring my communications systems. I must say it makes me a little nervous."

"Why?"

"It tickles when they creep through the crawl spaces. Blaster didn't tickle nearly as much as Ambient. But he is clumsier."

Rusti didn't know how to respond to that admission. She thought it strange and funny and could not decide whether or not to say so. She pushed from the partition with a breath to clear her head. "Well, let's go see if you can follow me around."

Rusti traveled from one end of the Razor Lady to the other first. She wanted to be sure the cat persona was not limited to the bridge area. Then she descended the gang plank and waited at the bottom. At first Razor hesitated.

"There's glass down there," the cat observed.

"Yes," Rusti returned, "it's what happens when dirt, sand and rocks get cooked under extreme temperatures like a ship-"

"I understand the science, you dumb broad. I'm saying you don't have proper shoes for it." Razor's eyes blinked behind Rusti as one of the Aerialbots approached.

"Hey," Skydive greeted, "everything okay?"

"Uhhh. Yeah," Rusti stammered. "I was just, um, looking at the ground... here." she resisted rolling her eyes when Razor sniggered.

"You shouldn't cross this area by yourself, Missy. Some areas are still cooking."

Rusti quickly improvised: "I-I was going to visit the Mark."

"Well, you're in luck!" Skydive grinned, "I'm headed that way myself. They gave me this lame assignment. I might as well play taxicab, too." He helped her to his right shoulder and walked along a pre-laid path from the Razor Lady to the Hannibal's Mark. Rusti's eyes roved around the burnt trench in which all the ships sat. It was difficult to tell whether the ships phased in and the energy from the entry created the trench, or if the ships landed and skidded along the ground, digging into soft earth and scorching along their wake. Either way, it left a permanent mark on the island.

"Skydive?"

"Missy?"

"Just thought I'd ask if you knew how to razorplane."

"Um, well, I've read about it."

"did you know that Cyclonus could do it?"

"He can not!"

"can! I was there."

"Wow. I gotta see that for myself."

She thought for a moment. "I'll bet you could pull it off."

"Mmm... don't know if I have the design for it. That takes a lot of power and control."'

Rusti leaned closer to the Aerialbot's right audio as they approached the Mark's bow. "Skydive, unlike humans, you guys can always add adjustments to your forms. You can do this."

He caught her enthusiasm and grinned. "Now you're thinking like an Autobot, Missy. And here we are. Will you be fine from here?"

"Definitely. And thank you." He waved her off and they parted ways.

"Wasn't that nice?" Razor grunted.

Somewhat startled, Rusti turned and found the cat sitting just off the gang plank. "Did... did you just now appear?"

"What? No. I followed you and flyboy. You said you wanted to test whether or not I was capable of following you around. Did he distract you, or something?"

"Yeah," Rusti weakly admitted. "He's one of the smarter ones. Not brainy-headed like Perceptor, but smart like Streetwise."

"I see." the cat followed Rusti past the check-in point and waited while the girl requested permission to board the ship. Security officer Touch Down greeted her with a grunt and waved for her to pass. Rusti walked out of 'earshot' before looking to the cat. "why did they post security there? the Lady-I mean, you don't have it." When she received no answer, Rusti glanced behind and watched as Razor blinked her eyes three times before they flared brightly then darkened. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my dear. I'm keeping tabs on the brig."

"Why? who's in the brig?"

"Paratron named Skipper. They caught him consorting with someone. I don't know the details. He's been messing around with my light fixtures in his cell."

"Can he-can he short-circuit the force field somehow?"

"If he has a sonic .17 driver, he could."

"Guten tag!" Before she had a chance to think, a set of soft hands grabbed Rusti on either side of her head and a set of lips kissed one cheek then the other. The assailant released her and Rusti stared, dumbfounded. A female, likely Human, stood before her in a brown pinafore mini dress. Under that she wore a (very) low-cut, off-the-shoulder white blouse with short, puffy white sleeves. To complete the outfit, the girl wore thigh-high white stockings and the worst pair of shoes Rusti ever saw.

"W-w-what-" Rusti's lips worked but her voice failed.

"Guten tag!" the girl answered. Her soft brown hair hung in a set of braids, tagged off with ribbons. From the first two words, she rattled one sentence after another in rapid succession. All Rusti could do was stand and stare until Razor intervened.

"Ahem. Rusti here only speaks English, not German."

"I do not!" Rusti protested. "I speak Autobot-"

"Bad Autobot," Razor amended.

"Hey!"

"Ehh?" the girl inclined slightly. "Wie bitte?"

"ENGLISH!" Said the impatient cat.

"Oh!" the girl squeaked, "pardon. I didn't stop to think you're not from Germany and I assumed you already knew how to speak the language. Not to worry, there's a lot of people here on board who don't speak German-or if they do, it's not very fluent. Unfortunately, the head engineer himself, Double Take, does not speak the language and sometimes I have to wait until the communications officer translates. Sometimes that can take a day or two, since, I'm sure you're aware, we're having to share communications officers with three other ships. Oh, goodness! I sure wish they'd just give us our own CO!"

"Uhhh..." Rusti tilted her head right. "You're the Hannibal's Mark?"

"Yeah! They wanted to call me "Beethoven", then they conspired to call me Goethe. Then there came a great debate and one name after another rolled around until they said Mozart-I wanted Mozart. Mozart is a good, smart name, yeah? But NO! The English stole 'Mozart'. I was enraged and made them change all the sealing rings along the port docking bay. They thought about the Draco Mercedes, which was a personal favorite. But no, they said it sounded wussy. And finally they settled on the Hannibal's Mark which does not suit me at all. It's too masculine. Do I look masculine to you? No! I am the Draco Mercedes! 'Hannibal' is Carthaginian!! I am German!"

The Mark opened her mouth to say something further but Rusti managed to cut in: "I had no idea. I'm sorry for the mistaken identity."

"You'll tell the Captain?"

"Of course I will." The Mark suddenly clasped her hands over her mouth, eyes round as saucers. Rusti almost forgot she was not talking to a human. "What's the matter?"

"It's terrible!"

"What?"

"News from the Covenant: She said Sideswipe tried to terminate himself!"

*******

Doublecross sat outside a quiet room on board the covenant while Trinket, Wheeljack and Captain Convoy faced Sideswipe and drilled him with one question after another. She begged Trinket and Wheeljack to go easy on Sideswipe. His emotional condition teetered and the Monsterbot did not doubt her charge would make another attempt sometime soon. But what could be done? Sideswipe lost half himself, half his life, half his soul. Why was everyone so surprised by this development? Didn't anybody but her see this coming?

Optimus and Rodimus no doubt did. But they could not help him. How could they? All crossey had to hold onto was of Rodimus' foresight in assigning her to keep an optic on Sideswipe. What frightened her, however, was of someone pointing a finger in her direction for Sideswipe's attempted suicide.

Sideswipe sat at the table with as vacant a gaze as the wall behind Convoy and Wheeljack. Trinket stood at the door and kept silent while the other two waited for him to speak; to say something in defense of his actions in a rational, sane context. But all Sideswipe's reasons failed to impress upon them the necessity to end his life.

"You claim that you have nothing to live for," Convoy repeated Swipe's words. "But you're wrong. The future is worth living for. And I don't think Sunny would want you to give up. I don't think he'd want you to end your life because of his absence. Do you?"

"And what do you know about Sunstreaker?" Sides challenged. "Hm?" he stood and leaned against the table, his face contorted into anger. "Did-did you hang around with him or exchange pen-pal letters? Did you two play a few rounds with a football? Or maybe you two were chums and I didn't know about it!" Sideswipe dropped back into his seat as his anger melted back to grief. "You sit there and act as if Sunny died some sort of heroic death. You talk as if his death served some sort of purpose. But he didn't! He-he died horribly! He was sick and tortured and twisted and-and disfigured. I have never seen anyone die the way my brother died. Even when Unicron attacked cybertron, and destroyed millions of people and carved chunks out of our planet-it doesn't begin to match the torment Sunstreaker suffered! How am I supposed to deal with that? Huh? I don't sleep. I can't sleep. I see my brother, hanging upside down from the ceiling or-or chasing me or..." Sideswipe gasped for air, a mech drowning with overwhelming heartache. "What am I supposed to do? I don't know how to deal with this."

Convoy gave Sideswipe a moment of silence and privacy. Technically, this was Gryph's job. But as the current forefront commander, Convoy chose to deal with Sideswipe herself. Gryph and Titanium dealt with the Paratrons; their hands were full. "Did Sunstreaker enjoy life, Sideswipe? Did your brother like what he did in life?" The wilted warrior shrugged in response and the lady captain waited one more beat. "I did not know your brother personally. That much is true. All I know of either of you is from logs or news shared among the fortress-cities." She settled back and crossed her right leg over the left, arms folded. "Your combined reputation is widespread and generally amusing. It's not everyone who can pull pranks on Ultra Magnus." She caught the ghost of a happy memory fleeting across the mech's face. She pushed that a step further: "No one still knows how you two managed to glue Magnus to his own recharge flat. Sounds drastic, like something one of the Primes might have done."

Again Convoy allowed silence to settle Sideswipe's emotional turmoil before adding to her argument. "Rather than ending your life in an attempt to join your brother, don't you think it a more enticing idea to live for Sunstreaker? Wouldn't you consider living to make him proud of you? You're not alone, Sideswipe. You have people who genuinely care for you. Pain and sadness won't let you see that right now. But it can get better if you allow it to."

Sideswipe quietly scoffed. "you're kidding me, right? You're-you're placating me with empty platitudes meant to make me feel better? You think a few noises and phrases will make all my booboos go away?"

"No," she swiftly answered. "not at all. I'm not saying 'here's a patch, now you're all better'. Not in the least. I know you're torn up. I know it'll hurt for a long, long time. No one can replace Sunstreaker. No one expects you to. I'm trying to get you to re-evaluate your own self worth. Yes, your brother is gone. He's not coming back. But Sideswipe, you are still a person. You are still your own self. Sunstreaker was a part of you, but he wasn't you. Why do we have to lose you, too? Is it really necessary to lose both of you?"

Sides stared, exasperated. "How can you even ask me that? Everything me and Sunny did was en tandem! He was the right, I was the left. He took one side of the road, I the other. We shared everything from prizes to punishment. Why should he die and I live? What good is a car if it has no wheels?" Fresh grief constricted Sideswipe's vocalizer and he waited a moment before adding more weight to his point. "Captain, there is nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. There is nothing left for me here. I've lost both my home and my brother."

"So, your friends and allies don't come into this? They don't mean anything to you?"

"That's not the point!"

Convoy leaned forward and tapped the table with her finger. "That's exactly the point, Sideswipe!" She paused half a beat. "Something was taken from you. Now you want to take something from them. It's not fair. It's not fair that you lost someone to something beyond your control. No one could have saved Sunstreaker. But it's less fair that you take something from your friends because it's in your power to do so." Sideswipe fell dead silent. His gaze dropped to the table when he slightly hunched over in guilt. Convoy paused one more time to drive her point on target. "We all suffer Sunstreaker's loss. None of us will miss him more than you. But if you take your life, you will compound our suffering. We will have lost twice.

The lady captain waited for Sideswipe to volley another argument. He took one cooling breath after another without wiping tears. When the sullen warrior failed to reply, Convoy leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I dare you-I double-dare you to live long enough to pull one finale prank on Magnus." She paused again. "I triple-dare you. And if you pull it off, I'll do your duties for a month." She watched him lift his heavy head to meet her optics. Sideswipe's lip components parted but Convoy spoke before he uttered a sound: "Don't you dare say you can't, you sonofabitch."

Sideswipe flinched as if he heard his brother speaking through the captain. Maybe Sunny was speaking through her; it's something his brother would have said. Optics held by her solid gaze, Sideswipe submitted like a whipped puppy. "Okay," he whispered. Taking another breath to calm down, Sideswipe found strength in his resolve to take on the challenge. "I'll do it for Sunny," he agreed. "But no miracles."

Convoy schooled her expression from jubilant to satisfied. "Fair enough."

*********

"Am I a part of the Matrix, or is the Matrix a part of me?"

"3÷57.?8... It searched endlessly for the mathematical formula for sentient life." Rusti wept, embittered by the alien's arrogant audacity. But she had no time to think about it. Fortress Maximus moaned and shuddered under Quintesson attack. Buildings toppled as if made of straw and mud. The deafening sounds of chaos drowned her own thoughts as the girl raced from medical up the stairs, an Inoux at her heels.

She was hit! Up! GET UP!

The city flooded, slowly drowning in its own lifeblood...

3÷57.?8... It searched endlessly for the mathematical formula for sentient life."

3÷57.?8... It searched endlessly for the mathematical formula for sentient life."

Rusti shot up from bed and gripped her hair. "SHUT UP!"

The blonde roommates to her left rolled over with an irritable groan. "Rusti, for God's sake, take a damn sleeping pill like they suggested."

"I did," Rusti returned wearily.

"Then take another one."

Across the way, a burnette by the name of Apti, sat up. Rusti did not see her snarl in the dark. "Why don't you just ask them to put you in a room by yourself? Or better yet, go back to your own ship?"

"Why don't you?" Rusti returned in similar tones. "It's not like I enjoy tripping through nightmares."

"Screw you, hussy. Take your dolly and go find another room."

"Or what?" Rusti waited and when she received no answer flopped back to her pillow and sighed heavily. The stupid formula-whatever it was-rolled in her head like an aimless bowling ball. She tried to look it up a while ago but found it meant nothing.

Someone yanked her hair and ruthlessly dragged Rusti off the bed. She landed on her right hip a second before someone's bare foot rammed into her stomach.

"TAKE YOUR ASS-"

Second impact.

"AND LEAVE-"

Third impact.

"THE ROOM!"

"HEY!" One person protested.

"What the hell's going on?" someone else asked.

The lights shot on and Chy-Chaunam flew in followed by an orderly. Everyone else still in bed sprang up and moaned, whined and bitched about the lights, the attack, loss of sleep and lack of consideration.

Rusti panted for breath and thought she'd vomit and vowed it'd be all over Apti. She pushed herself up as Chy-Chaunam ordered everyone quiet.

"Now, what is going on?" the psychic demanded. "Rusti?" her eyes landed on the only redhead in the room.

At first Rusti found it difficult to stand straight.

She winced and held her middle. "Nothing," she lied. "We're all good."

"Clearly that is not the case," Chy-Chaunam objected. "Would you care to retract your statement?"

Refusing to look weak, Rusti forced her aching middle upward and drew a pained breath. "Okay," she answered in sarcasm. Without warning, she landed a right-cross on Apti's left cheek. The brunette dropped and the orderly rushed to her. Rusti blinked at the psychic, pleased with herself. "Now we're all good."

They ordered Rusti to gather her few personal items and escorted her out the room. She ignored the night nurse as Psycade member scolded her for misconduct, poor manners and unnecessary retaliation. Rusti rolled her eyes and wondered why everyone bitched at her for defending herself. They led her to the other side of the ward and bedded her in a small room with two other ladies. One girl, somewhere in her late 40's, sat in bed, book in one hand and a tea cup in the other.

Chy-Chaunam frowned at the book-lady. "Bed time is no later than eleven P.M. Monique. This is Rusti. She will be your new roommate. Lights out and no fighting!" the psychic all but slammed the door behind her. Monique groaned and clapped her book closed. She nodded toward Rusti.

"Why'd they bring you in here, Snow White?"

"Shirley Temple," Rusti corrected. "I got into a fight." She threw her pillow on the only empty bed, dropped the bag of personals on the floor and yanked the blankets back.

"No kidding. Huh. Never pegged you for a fighter. You don't look like a fighter."

Rusti eyed the older woman over her shoulder. "I play with Dinobots."

"You didn't seem to put up much of a fight the other day during Bingo."

Rusti flopped onto her new bed. "Plinkos," she corrected. "And the security guerillas got to that lady before I did."

"Oh yeah, hu?" Monique smiled when Rusti heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. The older woman set her book aside and switched off her lamp. "Good night, Rusti."

"Just slap me if I have another nightmare."

The next day started crisp and fresh. Chy-Chaunam haunted several rooms before she found Rusti on the south patio. Her breakfast included buttered toasted bread, a pale yellow fruit stuffed with cream and another type of fruit and hot spiced tea. Rusti greeted her with a wordless frown and sipped her tea. Chy-Chaunam silently admitted her limited experience with people. Even before the Quintessons abducted and imprisoned her for decades, the psychic always worked behind the scenes. Her life and her work were impersonal, separate from the world around her. Now her new task, set to her by Samiko, made her interact with subjects she otherwise would have manipulated behind curtains and closed doors.

And although there were other humanoids among the refugees who were also psychic to one degree or another, this twenty-something redhead challenged Chy-Chaunam in ways that either troubled her or rubbed her skin raw with attitude. Lately the strong psychic forced herself to remember the girl suffered horrific trauma from her father to the (v)Viruses. Chy-Chaunam did not doubt Rusti's upbringing was anything but ordinary; she was a child of two worlds. And she fit in neither of them.

Without asking, the alien psychic took a chair and sat across the table. She bent all her energies toward Rusti, intending to set the girl straight once and for all. But when Rusti's steel-grey eyes targeted onto her, it felt more like two rams locking horns rather than a parent sitting a child in a chair to teach a lesson. Chy-Chaunam hardened her resolve: "Let's talk about last night."

Rusti slowly took another sip of tea and ignored the fact that Razor just jumped on the table and stared at the slender lady. "Okay," Rusti accepted.

Razor's tail waved up and down four times before the cat looked to the girl. "Are you... is she going to grill you?" Rusti said nothing. Chy-Chaunam said nothing. The cat yawned. "Alright. Staring contest over." She stretched in front of Rusti then flopped on her side. "come on and pet me."

It took everything Rusti had not to break out laughing. Certainly even a psychic would not believe what Rusti saw. She felt like Alice caught in the real world with all of Wonderland's characters wondering about like ghosts.

Amusing, but awkward.

Chy-Chaunam caught a slight lift in Rusti's otherwise blank expression. Something was going on in that girl's head. Tired of waiting, the psychic asked the first question: "what made you hit that other girl last night?"

"She kicked me. Repeatedly." Rusti kept her voice mechanical. Sitting with the psychic felt like those days at the principal's office.

"So you thought that striking your attacker would solve the problem?"

"I wasn't looking to solve the problem. The problem isn't mine; it's hers."

Chy-Chaunam wondered how such a young woman could act so cold, so indifferent. "So you thought that returning violence was going to change something?"

The cat purred and washed its face. Rusti blinked but kept her eyes glued on the person in front of her. "You're assuming that I was using violence as a solution. But retaliation is not a solution; it's just retaliation."

"Retaliation is a form of an answer, Rusti. An answer is a type of solution."

"I wasn't looking to resolve anything. I was making a statement."

"And what would that be?"

"That I'm not a doormat for people to walk on."

Chy-Chaunam supposed she stepped on thin ice in lieu of the girl's delicate emotional state. She pressed forward anyway, determined to tear aside the layers of anger and pain, to reach Rusti's rational side. "What about talking it over, asking her why she hit you?"

Rusti's lips turned into a dangerous smile. "This is not going to work. Don't trivialize what I've been through."

"I am not trying to trivialize anything, Rusti. Merely that your response to a situation-"

"Shut up!"

Razor flinched. "Well! Finally!"

Ignoring her, Rusti stood, her chair scraped the wooden deck under them. She leaned over the table close enough to leave a nice hand print on the psychic. She refrained from striking, however. "You think I punched that hussy because I'm a hellbent bitch out to prove myself? No! I did so because I am NOT going to take crap from anyone-be it from a 25-foot tentacled creep or some hypersensitive flesh creature. I've been through too much in the last three years to take her crap." She paused two beats. "If you think that earns me time in the brig, then please inform Convoy and let me finish my breakfast in peace."

The psychic cautiously pocketed fear from her face and voice. "I apologize," she returned evenly. "I want to help you, Rusti. You've been through horrible, horrible things and I want to help you deal with it. You cannot go through life clinging to the anger burning you inside."

Rusti stood straight, her eyes held the alien female with indignation. She broke contact when Razor jumped off the table and aimed for the nearby garden. "I'll think about it," she answered coldly. With that, she followed the cat and left the psychic with a slight chill.

Rusti whittled the days away under the partly-cloudy skies of her mind. The beauty of Yolthanis III slowly scared over the infectious memories of cratis and Bare Anches, at least as far as their environments were concerned. The stench of dead birds finally dissipated, replaced with sweet rain, flowers and real, home-cooked food. Most of the Q-virus survivors around her awoke much the same as she: despondent, hopeless, scarred. Not only did the Q-virus wreck their bodies, but their lives, affecting the lives of those within their inner circles. Three girls (under 20 years of age) underwent intense therapy. Rumors suggested all three eventually landed in a special ward apart from the others; they were not going to emotionally recover.

Rusti often wondered how she did not become one of them. Not that she knew anything of their personal histories, but that she endured so much long before their entanglement with the Quintesson science station. There were days when Rusti wanted to just fly apart, deny reality, deny what happened. But somewhere under all the layers of pain and anger lay her waiting heart.

She waited for Optimus and Roddi. She waited for Galvatron. And perhaps that made all the difference. Perhaps the three girls had nothing else in their lives; no loved-ones; they belonged to no one and had nothing to hold on to. Less than that, very few people-Autobots and Humanoids alike, had someone waiting for them back home on Earth. That too gave Rusti something to fight for. Knowing her sister was alive and fighting gave Rusti a future to look to. She tightly held onto that in case something-anything should happen to Optimus or Roddi.

A full month after their arrival, the Autobots kept busy with all the loot they pilfered from the science station. Several ships were re-compartmentalized to make space for all the equipment, rations and gadgets. Several other Autobots studied the endless amounts of data downloaded from the computers-that is, all the data Trevor allowed them.

At the point of the second week of the third month-Earth Date: August 10, 2044, Rusti decided to attempt to visit her 'family'. Up to that point, everyone cautioned her to wait while the whole team of experts and superiors recovered. Two days ago Jazz came to life. He was, however, slow to respond and slipped into several Jazz-naps over the course. But just seeing Jazz alive and functional was enough to spur the Trench Driver's crew into extra hours of cleaning, polishing and completing their portion of the new inventory as quickly as possible.

Listening to all the chatter over the central Autobot frequency broadcasted over FM Radio, Rusti pondered her upcoming attempt to visit Optimus and Roddi. She decided if they (security, doctors, ect) intended to refuse her visiting rights, she'd find her own way. She sat in the common room, half watching the weird comedy on TV, half aware of the rain outside and sketching Razor, who remained her ever-present companion. The Mark-who insisted Rusti call her Draco Mercedes-chose to mind her own matters while the Autobots fine-tuned her communications abilities. At least the day moved along slowly and quietly in Mercedes' absence.

Rusti started at the large cat as she stared out the tall picture windows. Were the Mercedes and the Lady the only two ships with visible representations? Rusti didn't think so. But so far, no other ship has presented itself to her. Of course, they might be unaware, or maybe it was she herself.

The female Ormaythian, and Apti, the brunette, entered the common rooms, talking and scanning the area. Rusti carefully avoided eye contact. Hopefully they'd mind their own business and leave her be. Razor stood and arched her back then yawned.

"Looks like trouble just entered the room."

"Don't worry about it," Rusti returned. "They're not here to bother us."

Razor blinked at her. "I'm glad you said that: 'us'."

Rusti sneaked a glance in the cat's direction and offered the ghost of a smile. She hoped to keep her invisible friends a secret, since even she did not know whether or not they were real. Rusti scowled in displeasure when the two women locked gazes with her and wound their way around occupied tables and chairs, aiming for her.

"Perhaps we should leave," Razor suggested. Taking the advice, Rusti swiftly closed her drawing pad and aimed for the nearest exit.

"yeah, you'd better run!" Apti called behind her.

Rusti spun about. "Or what?" she dared. "you think I'm leaving because I'm afraid of you? Please, bitch, you wish." The room dropped dead silent as tension built brick by hostile brick.

Apti neared the younger woman while her companion hung back, begging the brunette to calm down. "You obviously think because you're chums with the Autobot leaders you have diplomatic immunity. But I've done some homework on you, Resonna Witwicky."

Rusti tucked the underused drawing pad under her arm and clapped in sarcasm. "Good for you. I'm glad you know how to read." Razor behind her moaned and shook her head.

"Your daddy is Daniel Witwicky."

"Only a sperm doner as far as I'm concerned," Rusti swiftly returned. "I have nothing to do with that man."

"Oh really?" Apti sneered. "Sounds convenient, doesn't it, Sierra?" She glanced over the shoulder to the Ormaythian. The alien nodded with a hint of sadness in her eyes. Apti continued: "See, we're both from the Sunset Kummya. We had family... until your daddy decided to sabotage some of the hot water pipes along Deck Three, section four. Those pipes burst and killed three people. One was her son, one was my daughter. The third was an orphaned deaf girl."

Rusti's anger dissolved into sympathy and her shoulders sank. "I'm sorry-"

Apti ignored her. "When they found out he was using a digipad to crack security codes, all he had to say was that you gave him the pad!"

Rusti's stomach dropped with horror. "No!" she denied, "I haven't even spoken to him since cratis!"

Apti raised her voice, "you expect me to believe that?! Everyone in this room knows of your involvement with the Autobots and most of us suspect you're to blame for the Q-Virus!"

Rusti's blood pressure plummeted. Her eyes bounced about the room and spotted several faces who shared Apti's sentiment. No number or strength of apologies would ever be enough. Rather than attempt to reason with her mousy voice, constricted with anger, sadness and horror, Rusti fled the room and raced across the gardens.

Rusti spent five frustrating hours dealing with one roadblock after another to attain permission to see Daniel. Convoy finally gave the 'go-ahead' but with some concern.

"Hon, maybe it's not such a great idea-"

"I just want to give him a piece of my mind, Captain," Rusti returned firmly. She stood on the Kummya's bridge as the crew worked around her. "I heard about the three children who died. can't you do something more than just lock him up?"

"Hm." Convoy grunted, half amused. "I suppose I could put him in a stasis tube, ship him out on the next comet. Or bury him here so someone will dig up his bones three hundred years from now. But honestly, Hon, I can't do anything without Rodimus' permission. Daniel is under his authority. Not mine."

Rusti huffed. "Maybe an anvil will mysteriously appear out of the sky and land on him."

"No, Darling," the lady captain gently objected. "I don't want to send anyone to clean up the mess."

"Pfffp. Thank you, Captain."

Captain Littlefield herself led Rusti to the brig and thereby, her father. Rusti caught the ugly snarl on Daniel's face before he changed it to delight upon seeing her. He stood behind the energon field, eager as a lonely dog.

"Well, well! I'm glad Captain Convoy finally saw fit to fulfill my request. How are you doing, Daughter Number Two?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Witwicky," Littlefield growled. "And keep the visit short." with that, she walked out.

Rusti waited for the door to close and dread welled from the pit of her stomach. She forced herself to face him, to face her past as old fears resurfaced like a bad rash.

Witwicky clapped his hands together and laced his fingers. "To what do I owe this pleasure? ...since, you know... the head bitch didn't exactly answer my demand. Was this yours, Resonna?"

"Rusti," she corrected. "And yes. I asked to come see you."

"Yes. how about that? It's good to finally see you. Your old man here isn't getting younger, you know." He paused to see if she'd say something to that and when she did not, he spoke again. "I have it on good word that Dezi is alive."

Rusti turned her head slightly left and tried to keep puzzlement from her face. Fail. "Who told you that?"

"Well, hey, I have allies. Everyone has a friend of some sort."

"You? friends? Not likely."

"You underestimate me. I can be charming."

"Apparently," she grunted. "I understand you've been dicking around with subroutines, sabotage and murder."

Daniel held quiet a moment as his daughter watched him formulate a story in his head. He drew a quick breath. "Well, technically, it wasn't my fault. That is, if you're talking about the pipes in... some room or other. How was I supposed to know there were alien larvae in the room?"

An unfamiliar female voice filled the air when neither Rusti nor Daniel spoke. "Don't believe him. He's a smeltwad."

Rusti grit her teeth, resisting the temptation to look left. A dark figure leaned against the wall somewhere along the shadows. Rusti glued her eyes onto him and kept her face stern. "Whether it was your fault or not is not my concern. Apparently, it doesn't bother you at all."

"So what do you want, Resonna?" Daniel asked impatiently.

"To give you a piece of my mind!"

Daniel mouthed the first word before his voice gave it life: "Oh." He turned from Rusti and paced toward the other side of his scarred, dented and dirty cell. He laid a hand over his neck and popped two vertebrae. "Something must've happened to upset you, huh? Good to know you keep up with current events. I don't get a lot of news down here. For some reason they insist I sit here with almost no company, nothing to keep me occupied. Oh, well, they do offer me movies, if I want. But they limit my choices..." Rusti paid him no mind as Daniel rattled about his curtailed life and the cruelty of those who stunt his 'artistic growth.' She stole a glance left. The dark figure looked at her with glowing blue eyes. A dark ninja outfit clothed the rest of her body from view. Rusti instinctively knew the figure represented the Sunset Kummya's personality.

A Black female ninja? Really?

"...so it came right back to you, Resonna." Daniel turned about with a frown. Rusti swiftly pasted on a light smile and looked to him. His frown dropped further. "weren't you listening to a thing I just said?"

"Oh!" she mocked, "Were you talking?"

He didn't like that. "You're lucky, young lady, that you are there and I'm behind here. After all this time, you still can't seem to respect me."

"Respect? You framed me! How am I supposed to respect you for that?" Rusti dropped her gaze to control herself when the Kummya clapped her hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Daniel held his hands up to stop her. "What are you talking about?"

She stared daggers into his eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. "The mothers of those children you killed told me that you said that I gave you a digipad! WHEN YOU KNOW THAT I DIDN'T!!"

He stared at her for three beats before huffing and bouncing his head in amusement. "Is that what this is all about? You're upset because I pointed a finger in your direction?" he shook his head. "They're just people, Resonna-"

"Rusti," she snarled

"-I don't know why you're so worried about what they think-"

She nodded, baffled. "You are a real piece of work."

He sneered in derision. "Fuck you, bitch."

Rusti smiled, baffled yet again. "Ohmigod. Okay. we're done." She raised her voice: "Captain! we're done!"

"No! Wait! Wait, wait!" Daniel protested. "Look, that was uncalled for. That was mean-"

"And you meant it."

"How about you shut up and let me speak my peace? Huh?" She clammed up but Daniel waited one more beat before launching into defendant mode. "Look, I know I haven't been the greatest father in the world. I'm not the best husband, the best friend, the best anything. But Resonna, for cryin' out loud, we're family. And out here, we're all that you and me have. I-I know that things have been crazy. And you know, it's driving everyone crazy, especially me. You have to understand something: This isn't me. Not really. I'm stuck in this metal contraption of a body day and night; for years, now. Not a day goes by when I'm not wishing things were different... normal. But they're not." He sighed wearily and ran fingers through his short brown hair. Daniel turned from her sight one moment, then faced her this time with saddened eyes. "There's all this stuff pent up in me, you see. I can't tell you how difficult it is living like this. I'm so confined, so restricted and I'm terrified that I'm going to lose everything. And-and I know that I've not been fair to you, to your sister, to Brian. I know I've made a few mistakes. So, so I try to... to be persuasive; to-ah-fashion the world around me where I know I'll be loved and cared for and protected. Because I didn't get much of that growing up. Optimus Prime died when I was very young. And that-that still aches in me, Resonna. You know? And of course there was Unicron and after that, Rodimus took on the leadership role. I looked up to him. I really did."

Rusti studied him, his movements, facial expressions and paid particular attention to his tone of voice. He sounded sincere, certainly. But his history spoke louder than his current prose.

"I think I was okay for a while," he continued, "Then Optimus Prime returned. The galaxy went to hell and we took a field trip to Nebulos." He stopped there when his lower lip trembled. Rusti remained passively quiet. Truth or not, she was not convinced of his sincerity.

"Arcee made me feel safe," Daniel resumed. His tone softened as with fond memories. "Arcee was almost like a second mom to me. And when I became a Headmaster... whew. That was... a whole new level of existence, you know? It was like being crowned king of the world and I sat among the elite and fought side by side with the Autobots. And for a while it was fun. But little at a time, I realized I was missing out on my own life. I wanted out. You must understand: I had no other choice; I was a Headmaster.'

'Then I met your mother and I wanted my own personal life. I wanted a family, to be a dad. But I always ended up dragged into one assignment or another. The Autobots don't understand humans, Resonna. Not really. I mean, if they had, they certainly would not have dragged an eight year-old child across the cosmos! And I didn't want this kind of life for you. Not you or Brian or Dezi. And I'm so glad that Dezi chose her own path."

Rusti gave him a cat's smile. "That's because you didn't know what she was up to. Dezi earned enough credits to apply for EDC."

He turned quiet a moment, studying her while choosing his words with caution. "Well, Dezi has always been her own person. She's just that way. But for you, I want far more, far better, Sweetheart."

Rusti's stomach turned and she blanched as if Daniel uttered blaspheme. Only Optimus had the right to call her that. Why did she come here again?

"I want to start over, Resonna," Daniel added gently. "I want us to be friends, like a father and daughter should be. I want to be around to see you finally get married and have children. I've always liked the idea of being a grandfather."

Her blood pressure dropped again, her skin tingled with cold. Should she tell him what happened to her? Would it matter? Her scars belonged to herself, yet somehow Rusti felt compelled to trust them with Daniel. Perhaps she should not, but chose to anyway. "I can't have children." she almost said 'dad', but kept that out of her vocabulary.

He looked mortified. "You can't?" his gaze grew old in the matter of seconds. "Wh-what did the Autobots do to you?"

"Nothing."

"You don't have to cover for them, Resonna! You don't have to defend them! God, what have they done to you?!"

"It was the Quintessons, D-" she caught herself in time.

"Sure it was," his voice ran smooth, underlined with sarcasm. "But who do you think brought you there? Who dragged us all the way out here? Hm?"

Rusti rolled her eyes and inwardly groaned.

Daniel paced away as if deeply concerned. He rubbed his brows and deeply sighed. "Listen, Resonna, honey, it's been rough for both of us. I mean, might not have been as rough for you, you're still young and have a long future ahead of you. I just... I just don't want you to limit your options with the Autobots. I grew up with a father and grandfather who spent their time-gave up their lives working with and for these alien robots-"

"You're going to bore me with this speech again?"

His eyes, softened with his plea, now hardened with anger. "I'm looking after your best interests, Resonna! You have been brainwashed to the point that you don't realize the damage they've caused you! Look at what's become of me! You've lost your grandparents! And now you've lost your home, half your family and your homeworld! What will it take to wake you up and see these machines for what they are?"

She turned quiet and analyzed his words. "So... exactly what am I supposed to do about it? what do you think you should do about it?"

"Leave them." Rusti scoffed and Daniel's bottom lip trembled again. "Listen, it's so important to me! I don't want this to happen to you!" He lifted his arms and turned about, displaying his exosuit. "This is no way for anyone to live!"

"You're feeding me bullshit," again she almost called him 'dad'. "I know quite well the number of times the Autobots have offered to give you new and better exosuits. You did not have to stick with the same block model."

"Nothing else they made me fit right."

"Bullshit."

"Will you quit saying that!?"

"No!" she shouted. Rusti neared the cell and pointed at her father. "You're selling me the same pathetic song I've heard all my life: that you're a victim, poor little Daniel. The Autobots-especially Arcee, have bent over backwards to accommodate you and you constantly spit in their faces! Everything you spew is the result of self-inflicted misery! YOU kept yourself in that suit! YOU held Arcee under emotional manipulation! YOU drove Dezi away! your little show-and-tell here will do nothing to change my mind and attitude toward you because you are a mean, self-centered little man! Poor little Daniel, everybody hates me. Boohoo! Frankly, it's despicable! And I will tell you right now: I will do EVERYTHING in my power to ensure you NEVER return to Earth!"

Two seconds ticked before Daniel exploded: "YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! I AM YOUR FATHER! I MADE YOU, YOU LITTLE UNGRATEFUL BITCH! YOU'RE MINE..."

Rusti fled the room as his voice followed her with a litany of foul words and curses. Captain Littlefield slammed the door shut and locked it as the younger woman slid down the wall, knees up. One hand supported her head. Once she stopped trembling she dragged her eyes to the captain. "I know," she said softly, "you told me so. But I had to say something."

"He's mad, Rusti," Littlefield scrunched down. Her stern face reflected earnest expectation. "I advise against talking to him again."

"I was angry because he said that I gave him the digipad."

"I know you did not."

"Then who did, Captain?"

Littlefield shrugged. "Nothing was exchanged here on the Kummya. So whatever took place had to have... happened..." she blinked and Rusti caught her thought.

"While everyone else was still recovering."

"Right," Lakendra agreed. "Which means someone either planted the digipad in a place we know nothing about or someone else, who woke earlier than the rest of us, gave it to him."

Rusti lifted her eyes and beheld the dark ninja standing behind Captain Littlefield. "I could probably ask around," she slowly offered.

The Kummya's Captain huffed. "I doubt there's anyone to ask, Rusti, since almost all of us were uncon...science." She traced Rusti's line of sight behind her right shoulder but saw nothing. She pursed her lips. "Well, I suppose you have your own way of gathering intelligence." She stood, wincing and rubbed the ribs on her lower left side. "Please let me know what you find."

Rusti waited until the captain departed before gazing at the ninja. "thank you for not talking to me. It's awkward answering you guys when no one else can see you." The Kummya's personification wordlessly pointed to the exit. "You're right," Rusti stood and stretched, "we should go." The tall ninja shadowed her, both forced themselves to ignore Daniel's fresh batch of obscenities.

********

Sunday afternoon blessed the world with a sweet breeze. Tree blossoms flitted through the air like single-winged butterflies. Their flight patterns moved this way, that, looped up and wafted down. Optimus sat on a comfortable bench with a pretty golden femme. They faced a grand estate as workers labored carefully to disassemble an ancient castle wrought of iron and stone.

castle cybertron stood for millions if not billions of years. It withstood weather and war, good rulers and bad. Now it languished with abuse and neglect. All but empty, the castle harbored insects and wild animals. The nearby Realtors took advantage of the abandoned castle and sold its metal and stone slice by slice.

Optimus pitied the castle because the grand structure was a living thing. What pain did it suffer?

"Do not grieve for the castle, Optimus," the femme beside him said softly. He laid optics on her and admired the golden exostructure. Her design reminded him of a female depicted in Egyptian art.

"It's not my nature to gloat," he returned quietly. "No one deserves suffering."

"criminals understand only what hurts them. They care nothing for others except their servitude. criminals make their own choices, usually fully aware of the rules. They rationalize their way around the law and willfully shut down their conscious. Why should this be any different?"

"I did not mean that he was guiltless; only that suffering..." He dropped his sentence knowing evil was not limited to the vile, the lowly and the disadvantaged. "Must he suffer for eternity?"

"That is not in my power to discern. I am not here to evaluate or lay blame." She turned to him with large curved optics. "I came for you."

He did not question that. "This was the only home we've known. What will happen to us?"

She smiled warmly. "come to me, Optimus. I am preparing for you a new home, one that cannot be claimed by another. I welcome you to a place more befitting a species of creature rather than a species of former slaves."

"What of Earth?"

"Is Earth truly your home? Cybertron can no longer support your people. You and I knew that at the point of the Nebulon War. Cybertron is a dead land, filled with cold death and scarred with memories of evil times."

Of course Prime accepted her invitation. Of course he knew of this long ago, long before his conscious mind understood that knowledge. The Autobot leader faced the beleaguered structure for a final time. He stood, surprised to see Primus chained to an inner wall, legs and arms spread apart, bound by curse and punishment. He shouted at the workers to stop all activity. He ordered the merchants and entrepreneurs to hear his voice and respect his demands. Not one, great or little, heard either his please or his threats.

Optimus remembered Primus' indifference toward him. He recalled Primus' attitude: Transformers were naught but tools and weapons; a means for his personal use. He cared nothing for his children and allowed their enslavement and permitted disaster to shape their culture of war.

For the first time, Optimus realized how Rusti must have felt about her parents; the horror of indifference and the chill of betrayal. No amount of logic or rationality soothed the deep ache within him. "what will happen to him?" Optimus Prime asked softly. "what will they do to Primus?"

"Even supercreatures, gods, must answer for their crimes. Primus will be torn asunder and taken from this dimension. He will exist fragmented and incomplete with never a moment without agony." She dragged her optics from Primus to her adopted child. "You do not know enough of his crimes to assess his defense, Optimus. Let it go and come home to me."

Optimus' optics lit ever so weakly as his consciousness surfaced above the dark coma. Yet so far unconscious was he that no one noticed; no machine registered the moment his spark strengthened. "Mechlatex." But the word never reached the world outside his mind.

***********

Razor called Rusti out of bed at four-thirty A.M. Rusti stared at the St. Bernard-sized cat with dulled senses and blurry eyes. "I'm not in school anymore," her voice squeaked and grated from a dry throat.

"Oh come! Pull yourself together! Dezi's online!"

Rusti's eyes shot wide at the sound of her sister's name. She untangled herself from sheets and blankets and staggered about, searching for her clothes. Monique moaned and stirred like a half-living thing.

"Whaaat's going on?"

Rusti tugged on a pair of leather ankle boots, bound her hair and tied a sweater loosely about her hips. "My sister's on the phone!" her smile turned from happy to joyous as she and Razor left the room.

Monique dropped back to sleep.

As she hiked out to the landing trench, Rusti wondered how she was going to get to the Razor Lady. No one knew how long it would be before the ground cooled enough for humans to walk on. Upon arriving at the edge of the turf, Rusti paced back and forth, hoping an Autobot on patrol might find her and give her a ride out. But this time she had no such luck. Dragging her eyes from the Razor Lady to the Hannibal's Mark to the Vertical Horizon, Rusti bit her lower lip. Anxiety crept over her. What if she missed talking to Dezi?

Razor sat beside her. The cat's tail whisked back and forth. "what are you looking for, Rusti?"

"I need to get across!"

"But what do you need?"

"Something to ride on!" she answered, exasperated. Rusti batted her eyes. "oh," she realized and looked to the grey cat. "I need a hovercycle." she watched the cat swing her backside in a sassy strut. Rusti half-ran to catch up. "You know where I can get one?"

"Don't insult me, dear," Razor said without irritation. After your stunt on board the Racing Beast, I picked up a trick or two."

Rusti froze in her tracks. "Wait... you learned something from the Racing Beast?"

Razor glared over her shoulder. "We're NOT like your hairdryer, Darling. We may not be Autobots, either. But we are a life form. You brought us to life."

"With what?" Rusti demanded, "A magic powder of life? It takes six months to stir a small batch." The cat hissed derisively and stared at the Razor Lady. Guilt tugged at Rusti until she scrunched down and locked her hands about her knees. She should not have insinuated the ships' personalities were merely a figment of her imagination. But she conjured no other reasonable explanation other than lack of sanity. If she knew no better, the young lady would have guessed someone spiked her food or drink with joys. "I'm sorry," she said at length. "It's just that this-seeing you or the other two in this fashion isn't exactly normal. It's a little unnerving."

"You seem to have a problem dealing with things outside the norm and mundane." Razor stood and arched her back in a long stretch. "Stop stressing yourself over what you think shouldn't exist or happen and adapt to it. No one said the universe was confined to a strict standard of rules."

Rusti rolled her eyes left. This was all she needed: admonishment and advice from an Autobot star ship with the personality of a cat.

"Here it comes!" Razor padded the ground with her left foot, then the right in anticipation. Rusti stood as a hovercycle mapped out the distance between the ship and the potential passengers.

She blinked and raised her brows. "You did that?" she marveled. "By yourself?"

"You did ask," Razor answered as the cycle parked before them.

With a smile and a warm thank you, Rusti mounted the cycle first, followed by the Russian Blue.

Convoy poured over maintenance reports, waiting for the Hannibal's Mark to realign their communications frequencies with her ship. Even with Blaster working as well as he could inside Apogee's body, the job tested the lady captain's patience. As she corrected one officer's pitiful spelling, Convoy mulled about Daniel Witwicky at the back of her head. The man's beastly nature increased by five settings since his estranged daughter's visit. Convoy planned to deny Rusti further access to him. The man was mad, whether or not it was his own fault. And the last thing Convoy wanted to deal with was of someone's irrational, uncivilized behavior.

Still, there was that mystery regarding the digipads that landed in Witwicky's grubby little hands. Streetwise is awake and moving, Convoy thought, I'll just assign him to find the perpetrator.

"Helllooooo, Razor Lllady!" Apogee's voice strained under the exclamation and Convoy winced and signaled Ambient to turn the sound down. "We are live on the drive and have I got a miniature party for YOU, Madam Captain!"

Convoy frowned and slipped her current work into a slot on the side her her chair. "Let's hope we can find an answer to your bodily dilemma, Blaster, before I find a way to dismember your voice box." She hid her smile when Ambient silently sniggered. Convoy stood from her chair and folded her arms. "come on, Blaster. Out with it before my paint job fades."

At the klip-klip sound of two button presses, the Razor Lady's bridge crew beheld the inside of a room no larger than a closet. The camera sat trained on the door, bolted shut and rigged to explode should someone attempt unwanted access. A single light at the left side shared illumination with the computer is sat beside. The next minute, the face of a male humanoid appeared too close to the camera until he sat in the chair and sipped a drink through a long straw. Upon discovering their online connection, he grinned, revealing double sets of gleaming teeth.

"This is Nimbus on pirate radio frequency 44.9c straight off the planet Sram. You are riding on night-shift Q-Freak-of 110.87 I-hertz. Authentication code is Tokyo Road.7800 Fahrenheit, 03.27.1985 .R-Sambora, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Over."

Convoy smiled with delight. "Copy that, Nimbus. This is the Razor Lady. Passcode 10.23.2016.04.13Bon Jovi. She stared at Nimbus' frozen form while the four minutes stretched into the realm of tested patience.

The four minutes ended and Nimbus' posture changed. He set the large drink down and tapped his fingers on an unseen keyboard. "copy that, Razor Lady!" he said cheerfully. "You are heard as of Earth date September, 2038. I.G. news states that Decepticon sightings have been confirmed as close as Protoplanet Glutallis, located in the Aprachine oort cloud. Location is currently sent via image. Observers from 90 degrees along the Perseus galactic arm have reported the protoplanet's demise, stripped of all its cybertonium T-4, isotrype and metallic hydrogen. More news to come. Over."

Convoy stared at the screen briefly. With one arm lapped over the over, her forefinger tapped her upper left arm until she made a decision. "Ambient, patch me into Gryph." A soft tap at the control panel and a short nod from the communications officer had Gryph's bridge on wide shot. "Did you get that?" Convoy asked without preamble.

"I did," Gryph returned. "He said 'Decepticons', but which faction?"

"My question exactly," Convoy agreed. "Unfortunately, there's no way we can get the information ourselves."

"No."

Convoy sat up in her chair then leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers laced. "Ambient, back to Nimbus, please."

"Tuning in, Captain."

"copy that, Nimbus. Is there any way to confirm if the Decepticons are led by Skorponok? This is important. We recently encountered a separate group of Decepticons led by one named Decetron. Over." Convoy waited and wondered when their leaders come back to life. She suspected she was slowly sinking into a situation clearly over her own head. The good thing was, she wasn't alone. Convoy lifted her head to meet Ambient as the comms officer turned to her.

"Captain, Jazz is online."

"Audio," she requested. "Hey, Jazz, how are you?"

"Better than 'couple days ago, Captain Ma'am. What's the stats? Tite tells me we got a phone line straight t' Earth. How the heck did that happen?"

Convoy did not move. "Ambient, see if someone can link the incoming from Nimbus to the Trench Driver."

"Aye, Captain."

Convoy lifted her voice: "Jazz, we're going to connect you to the incoming transmission. Keep in mind that there is a four-minute delay between sending and receiving. We're speaking with someone named Nimbus who has contact with the Underground on Earth."

"Outta sight!" Jazz said cheerfully. "Best news we've gotten in months."

Convoy frowned. "We're trying to keep it under wraps for right now, Jazz. There's just too many people who will want to know what happened to their loved-ones and friends. It would keep my job simple if everyone just kept quiet about it."

"You heard the lady," Jazz said to his crew. "Keep your lip components zipped until we say word."

Convoy turned from the view screen when her head of security called on an internal line. "Captain," she answered.

"Skipper here, Ma'am. We have an uninvited guest that appeared in Deck Five. She insists going to the bridge."

"Who is it?"

Skipper hesitated. "uh, the Witwicky girl."

Convoy grimaced. "How the Pitt did she-never mind. Tell her to return to her... whatever. We're conducting business."

"Captain, she insists on speaking with her sister."

Pause.

Pause.

"Captain?"

"Fine. Send her to the bridge. I'll talk with her."

Nimbus' voice returned to the airwaves sooner than Convoy expected; she lost track of time. "copy that, Razor Lady. Apologies for the delayed return. We sent the request. It'll be a day or two before we can confirm." Nimbus paused before his face and small dark world appeared on the screen. "Intermediately, I thought you lads and ladies might like to know about current events. Don't say nothin' that might get both of us caught somehow. News says we got headhunters out there. The 'Nox-buddies are stationed in four locations as of yester-month. The Underground's got suspicions that the number four's not alone. Over."

Convoy could not decide if she wanted to spin her chair around or stand and pace. She mentally categorized and contemplated on every word Nimbus said. 'Nox', obviously meant Inoux. Four... four locations, four bases? Possibly more? Headhunters... The Lady captain shook her head. How nice it sounded to take a warm oil bath.

The bridge doors swished open then closed, drawing Convoy's attention from her thoughts. She spun about in her chair and faced Rusti Witwicky. "Don't say a word," she ordered. "Not until you and I have a talk." Rusti mutely nodded and Convoy faced the view screen again. "copy that, Nimbus," she said. "We've had a few run-ins with the Quints. We ran into Inoux. As for our location: no need to worry about us. We're-uh-years and years away from everything and everyone. Over."

Convoy swiftly stood. "Scuttle, you have the con. Rusti, in my study. Now."

Convoy did not bother sitting behind her desk. She leaned against it, arms folded, posture rigid. She waited until the door swished shut before talking: "Young lady," she began sternly, "I am aware of your relationship with the two Primes. It does not, in any way, time, shape or form, grant you special privileges above everyone else. I realize your sister is the head of the Underground. I understand that you want to spend time with her. But this is neither the place nor the time for pleasantries. And you are NOT to board MY ship without expressed permission from the captain. Is that clear?"

Rusti's veins ran cold and ice formed at the pit of her stomach. She drew a deep breath and tried to suppress her fear and guilt. "Captain," she responded, "I understand that you are annoyed with me. But I'm begging you. Let me speak with Dezi-"

"No."

"-just one more-"

"No."

"-time. It's important."

Convoy weighed the moment, swayed between the girl's emotions and the importance of their precious, precarious communication line. "Why should I allow you to speak with her? If I allow you, then I must extend the same opportunity for everyone else to attempt to speak with anyone they know. I cannot afford favoritism, Rusti. Do you understand?"

"It's not about that, Captain," Rusti barely controlled the panic edging her voice.

Convoy's voice turned colder: "Rusti-"

"It's about my abilities," she blurted. Convoy's face visibly softened and Rusti hurriedly continued. "I need to know, Captain. I'm not just hearing the ships. I'm seeing visible, three-dimensional personality representations."

Convoy's annoyance, bordering on irritation melted away and she sank to her knees. "What are you saying?" she asked more gently.

Tears soaked Rusti's face and she wiped them as fast as she could. Her voice trembled. "Y-your ship. I see the Razor Lady in the form of a large cat. I-I've seen the Hannibal's Mark in the form of a waitress. she even speaks German. And yesterday, when I visited Daniel, I met the personification of the Sunset Kummya in the form of a female ninja. And I'm afraid I might be going crazy. And I need to know if what is happening to me is genetic, or loss of sanity!"

Convoy thought it through. Rusti's initial ability astonished her, but now she did not know what to make of it. "what makes you think it's genetic, Rusti?"

Rusti drew a deep stuttering breath. "My grandfather was able to read and write Autobot, without thinking of it. He and my great-grandpa understood Transformer biology as though it were instinctive. I just... I just..."

Convoy took that 'special circumstances' into consideration. She also thought about the girl's delicate emotional state; the trauma she endured on Bare Anches. Her voice leveled and she stood. "Alright," she finally said, "But I must impress upon you no pleasantries. Do not stand there and discuss the sun and clouds. You get to the point and you stay there. clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good."

They returned to the bridge where most optics turned to them in curiosity. Again Convoy measured necessity verses privacy. She reclaimed her chair and tapped her fingers on the right control panel half a moment. "All non-essential personnel clear the bridge," she ordered. Scuttle gave her a puzzled look and Convoy set her expression firm. "Yes, that includes you, Mister," she said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. A hint of shame crossed the lady captain when she realized Scuttle was a Paratron and she ordered him off the bridge due to mistrust. Since when did cybertronians become more trust worthy than their Paratron cousins? She ordered a status report in order to clear her thoughts.

"Six minutes and waiting, Captain," Ambient replied. "We're not sure what the delay is for." Just as she said that, the signal returned and everyone stopped moving to listen in.

"copy that, Razor Lady. This is Dezi Witwicky. We're waiting on confirmation from the S.S. Helios. Please confirm a short list of survivors of the Autobot command staff. Over."

Convoy sensed Rusti's growing anxiety but ignored the girl for the moment. "copy that, Underground. Status is as follows: Four city commanders currently online and operational. Of nineteen captains, eight are fully functional. Head command staff are currently in stasis. I repeat: head command staff are currently in stasis. And Dezi, Rusti wishes to speak with you briefly. Over."

The same four minutes as before lingered too long on the bridge. Rusti sat at the rail on the upper walk, feet dangling over the edge. She briefly wondered what Razor was up to then decided she didn't want to know. Dezi's question about the command staff stirred the curiosity in Rusti's own heart and she hoped, not for the first time, that her family might wake soon.

"copy that, Razor Lady," Dezi's voice rang soft and clear. "We are currently divided at three with seven ladies-in-waiting. The mistress in your potential access is under the Sky by Mrs. Walker. If you're somewhere in the neighborhood, we'd love for you to pick up a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread. Over."

"Copy that, Underground," Convoy immediately answered. "Please submit your grocery list via feed. Over."

"Stand by, Razor Lady."

Rusti's palms turned clammy as her nerves edged toward anxiety. She wondered what the ordeal was over a grocery list and... "Captain?" she asked timidly. "Who's Mrs. Walker?"

Convoy turned her chair toward the redhead with a smile. "It's in code, Rusti," she replied quietly. "Grocery list refers to needed supplies-"

"Oh."

"Sky-by-Mrs-Walker is the name of the ship we need to contact; the Skywalker. The term 'divided at three' or whatever number, means there is more than one group involved with the Underground and they are located in different areas. 'Seven-ladies-in-waiting' means there are seven allies or groups of allies that aid the Underground."

Rusti considered it. "I had no idea Dezi could speak code so well."

Convoy lapped right leg over left knee. "It's not a language, Rusti. It's a matter of wording. I'm sure eventually you'll get the hang of it."

"Razor Lady this is the Underground. We have achieved straight line-to-line communication via quasar. Polarity sits at .0900lw, sound frequency 4700gz. Please adjust your receptors to Alpha43998.47. Over."

Rusti scrunched her brows together. "what's line-to-line?"

Convoy shook her head. "I'm a city commander, hon, not a walky-talky. She raised her voice for the comm. "copy that, Underground. Stand by. Over." Convoy leaned over, repeating her elbows-on-knees posture. "Ugh. communication lag time kills me."

Rusti silently agreed. But she understood why it took so long; they were 300 years in the past... and how the signal even found them, let alone traveled backward in time was far more than she dared to attempt to figure out. Waiting beat the frustration out of her and replaced it with weariness. She wondered if anyone informed the Underground of their whereabouts and their 'whenabouts'.

"Razor Lady, we are on the connect. Over."

Convoy flinch with genuine surprise. "copy that, Underground, over."

"Excellent. Aaaaand-badda-ping!" Dezi's face appeared on the view screen. Rusti caught her breath when her sister's 24+ year-old face stared at them. Although her movements were a little jerky, just seeing Dezi for the first time in years was the most beautiful thing Rusti beheld. The Underground's leader smiled broadly and the light to her left revealed a white scar streaming from under her left eye to the middle of her cheek.

It was not there before.

"Hey, Little Sis!" she greeted, "you've grown some during your absence."

"Yes," Rusti returned with very little breath. "you have too."

"I"m SO glad to see you all alive and well! Nimbus tells me you're, that I'm speaking to you in the past? What the hell?"

Convoy stood. "We're bewildered about that too, Dezi. We're working on a solution but with the command staff down, we really can't take any action."

"I get that. How long? How long will it be before you guys come back?"

Convoy frowned. "I don't know, to be honest, hon. We want to come home. We're looking for a way to come back and kick the Quints and their friends out of the solar system. But we've had a number of set backs and complications. The Matrix Virus notwithstanding."

Dezi did not hide her disappointment. "Oh. Right. Hey, Res, what's going on?" she forced on a smile and took a sip from a coffee cup.

Rust hesitated long enough to read Convoy's expression and recalled the captain's warning to keep to the point. "I miss you, Dezi. Um, I need to ask you something."

"Hit me." Dezi settled back in her chair, a little more relaxed.

Rusti drew a deep breath. "Did mom or dad or grandpa ever exhibit signs of extra-natural abilities? I mean, beyond grandpa's ability to read or write in Autobot."

Dezi's face turned nonplussed. "Uh... Dad? You mean other than the talent to piss people off?"

Rusti's face lit up with a smile. "Yeah, Dez. Other than that."

"Uh. Well... I remember Grandpa Spike once said that his dad had the weird ability to touch any machine and know how it operated, how to fix it or even rebuild it from the bottom-up." Dezi stared hard at her little sister. "Why?"

In ten minutes and eighteen seconds, Rusti explained everything from her interaction with computers to the last two days. "And Dez," she added, "the Hannibal's Mark kissed me."

Dezi grimaced. "wait, what? Physical contact with a personification? Rez, you realize that... that it's-"

"Psychological. I know. But I know what I felt, too. She's German and wants to be renamed the Draco Mercedes." Her story finished, Rusti waited and watched her sister consider everything. Rusti always believed her sister was smarter than she and hoped Dezi had an answer somewhere in her head.

"Hmm. Okay. Let's think this through, since we're discussing something that's in your head." Dezi waited for Rusti to nod before continuing. "You were infected with joys, which was a narcotic made from alien DNA." Rusti nodded, though her expression remained placid. "After that, you've had a few not-so-wonderful experiences with the... Matrix Virus..." Dezi's voice trailed off in deeper thought as her sight turned inward, chasing one memory after another.

"Dezi?" Rusti waited again, hoping. But after two long moments, Dezi shook her head.

"I'm sorry, hon. Nothing comes to mind; nothing outside the possibility of Matrix influence. There's always been something about you and all these years, no one has been able to figure out exactly what is. Maybe you're just weird."

"Dezi!" Rusti's grin matched her sister's and for a moment, life felt normal. But the moment passed on when a bleeping sounded from Dezi's end.

Rusti's sister turned from the camera half a second then back. "our time is up, hon. The frequencies are changing and it won't be for several hours to another day or more before we can ride on this frequency. So listen, Sweetheart. Whatever's going on with you, take it in stride. then pick it up and run with it. Know why?"

"No." Rusti hurt inside, knowing she'd not hear from her sister again for a while.

"cuz we're Witwicky. Just... the luckiest bitches in the galaxy. Right? We got the goods, Sweetheart. Just don't get cocky. Keep your head. You'll do okay."

The words hit her heart and Rusti failed to keep her tears away any longer. "God I miss you!"

"Me too," Dezi concurred. "Out of time, hon. you take care of the Autobots. Bring them home."

"I promise!" Rusti blurted just before the transmission turned into static.

*******

Three weeks post-awakening, Blaster and Apogee reported to Trinket, Wheeljack and two reluctant psychics assigned to their assistance. The group spent two and a half weeks of boredom formulating theories. Trinket and Wheeljack repeatedly asked Blaster and Apogee to tell the same story over and over. But their story offered no clues as to how their bodies switched.

With nothing to go by, Wheeljack chose to experiment on as logical a course as possible. Their first several attempts included innocuous ideas: hypnosis, for one.

Blaster, however, was immune to hypnosis. Psychic Phez struggled to determine if the Autobot communications officer was too smart for hypnosis, or incapable of sitting still long enough to relax.

The next idea utilized an ancient alien religious ritual Trinket once read about. The preparation alone cost them six days and Blaster's lack of patience. During one prayer, he cracked, broke into singing England's national anthem then laughed himself into exhaustion. By day three, the experiment resulted with a room filled with glittering smoke, an exasperated Wheeljack, two cranky psychics and an emotional Apogee.

They tried meditation techniques based on ceremonies from a group of separatist monks on Sumanoi. Wheeljack and Trinket fell asleep during every attempt. Neither awoke for two days thereafter.

Wheeljack decided to hardwire his subjects' minds together. Apogee glared at the scientist during the entire attempt. Blaster giggled like a little kid and more than once broke the connection which repeatedly zapped Apogee. Their last attempt resulted in the femme jumping out of her chair. She yanked all wires and cords from her (Blaster's) chasse and wrapped them around Blaster's (her) neck then proceeded to pound his shoulders.

The psychics took their turn. They bade the two afflicted Autobots to lie on the floor. With one hand on each Autobot and the other hand connected with each other, Ruchap and Phaz opened their own brain pathways to lure the Autobot sparks to pass through them and into their respective bodies.

Forty-eight hours later, still in Apogee's form, Blaster left the room to find something fun to do.

They tried direct current cranial procedures. Wheeljack's entire setup fried extra-crispy.

They imported a special plant from another world which supposedly possessed a 'conduit' soul. Apogee and Blaster suffered a bad rust rash and had to be quarantined for six days.

Day 59. Wheeljack ran through the Dancing Siren, digipad in hand. "I got it!" he cried. "I got it, I got it!!" he rushed through the door, optics bright with hope and grinned at the wearisome group. "I got it! We need to wire their infrastructural rods together and connect their meta-components with trillithium fiber optics then formulate just enough juice to evict their sparks out of their bodies, thereby forcing them to switch. All wee need to do now is get the right type of wiring-"

"NNNOOOO!" Apogee screamed (using Blaster's voice, it sounded weird) "No more needles, pins, tape, glue, wires, psychics or formulas! Enough! I've HAD IT!"

"But-"

"NO!" Apogee repeated. "I am NOT going to go through this anymore! I will not submit to another test. I will not sit still for days, meditating over body identities! And more than both, I will NOT stay in the same room with HIM!" and she pointed to Blaster.

"ME?!" Blaster retaliated. "what about YOU? You've commandeered my equipment! We got no commitment! You and me and a future I don't see-"

The optics on Blaster's body flared. "I swear, Blaster," Apogee growled, "you make one more rhyme and I will rip you face off!!"

Blaster held up Apogee's hands to stave off the infuriated femme. "Fine! Okay! chill, babe!"

Finally satisfied, Apogee shot one more dirty look in Wheeljack's direction and stomped out. Tension in the room melted and everyone else relaxed.

Wheeljack set his digipad down. "Let's take a break for a day or two, guys. Don't go wondering off too far, though."

Blaster scrambled out the room and off the ship as fast as his 'chic' body allowed. He desperately wanted his own form back. Not that Apogee wasn't a pretty girl, but she didn't have what it took to do his job. And Blaster sorely missed his job. He knew everything that went on-rumors or not. He was the go-between, the music king, the first at the scene. Much of the time he had no clue what to do with the femme's body. Oh... well, he punched one or two other guys for making lewd comments. Blaster swore he'd never do that to another girl ever again.

There were, naturally, complications other than Apogee's lack of communications equipment. Her form, designed for medical purposes, sometimes surprised him with 'pop-outs' such as a laser scalpel or miniature scanner. He also had no idea as to how to transform to her alternate mode. Nor did he dare try. He managed to dismantle her legs at the knee once, just to see if he could increase their strength. But what Blaster wanted, Apogee's form fell far short of compatibility and capacity. Perhaps he could make a few adjustments.

He found a small clearing almost a mile from the medical bay. A few weeping firs and great boulders hemmed the clearing while at its heart spread a beautiful water fountain. Blaster stared at it a long moment, remembering the beautiful water fountains in Fort Max; how the Paratrons worked endlessly (and usually over budget) to beautify the city.

Unlike the Paratron fountains, however, this one truly caught the senses. A great manta ray leaped from one side of the fountain, frozen in flight. From it's mouth, a shower of water formed a liquid bridge across the water. What also impressed Blaster, was the fountain's depth. An Autobot could easily take a dive.

Blaster settled at the far end of the watery bridge and produced a small pouch of tools. Apogee's form may not be fitting, but the communications officer figured he'd make a few much needed adjustments until its owner evicted him back into his own housing. Progress came slow, however. Humans and Autobots used the clearing as a shortcut between the medical facility and the beach which lay five miles off. He paid no attention to the stares; his business, not theirs.

Toward sunset, Blaster successfully removed one component from the body. That was exactly when Apogee found him.

"WHAT THE PITT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY BREASTPLATE?!"

She startled him so that he dropped it and fixed his gaze on the enraged femme. "N-nothing, dude." he weakly returned.

"DON'T YOU 'DUDE' ME, BLASTER!" Apogee railed for him. She swept up the fallen breastplate and all but shoved it in his face. "What are you doing playing with my breastplate, Blaster? Huh? you freaking pervert!"

Blaster had no idea his face looked so scary when angry. He scooted backward until the fountain pinned him between itself and the mad femme who looked like she was going to eat him. Apogee gripped him about the neck and again gave him a close-up view of her breastplate. "This is MY EQUIPMENT!" she shouted. "You half-powered TWEAKER! this is my body! Not a rental! You give me my body back, Blaster, do you HEAR ME?"

Her face, too close to his, inched even closer so they hovered ol factory node-to-node until Blaster lost his balance. He tumbled backward and grabbed Apogee's arm to stabilize his equilibrium. Apogee, just as awkward in Blaster's body, fell forward and the two dropped into the fountain like a pair of rocks. A great current caught them in a whirlpool and the two Autobots-and Apogee's breastplate-spun round and round. They spiraled down, down, through darkness. They banged against huge rocks, helpless as driftwood before the current spit them out; first Blaster then Apogee and her breastplate. Blaster's optics caught sight of a tall cliff as he flew backwards. A microsecond later, he plunged, butt-first into saltwater. No sooner did he recover his balance and find ground than Apogee landed on his back.

She sat there, stunned and discombobulated until her breastplate banged her on the head. "OW!" she shouted. It did not dawn on her until she reached for the breastplate that the hand she used was slender and lime-green rather than bulky and white. "WHOOP!" Kersplash! she hit water as Blaster surfaced.

"Dang it, Apogee!" he shouted, "I'm gonna get me a restraining order on you!" As the femme started to surface, Blaster caught her breastplate as it floated further toward the ocean. He stared at it half a second before raising his optics to the cliff from which they dropped.

Apogee popped out and coughed up sea water. Blaster turned to meet her sizzling glare. "Oh, um..." he grinned sheepishly, realizing he was caught with her breastplate in hand. He offered the item with a placating smile. She snatched it with a growl. "Hey!" the communications officer declared, "we got our selves back!"

Apogee turned from him to fit her plate back on. She winced upon realizing something was wrong. "It's BENT," she snarled. The femme turned to her counterpart and Blaster paled.

Twenty minutes later, Blaster regained consciousness and contacted Trinket. "I found my head," he informed her. "but, um, it's on backwards. Can you come get me?"

********

Hickery? Hickary? Hickory. Hickory dickory. Why hickory dickory? Why not 'tick-tock"

Tick-tock chimed the clock.

The mouse, he ran askew

The clock struck two.

Tick-tock chimed the clock.

Rodimus lay on his flat, optics staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. What happened? where was he? what day was it? how long was he sick? He felt nothing at the moment; no physical sensations. He did, however, catch the slightest, most priceless sound: birds.

Hickory dickory... what ship? what planet?

Optimus. Optimus? No, wait. He died. There was Unicron and there was... no, wait. Optimus saved them. He came and then he died.

No, wait. He was safe with the Decepticons-no, wait.

Optimus died. There was a child. THERE WAS A CHILD!

No. No. The baby belonged to Spike's son.

Spike's son-whatshisname. He was sweet once.

I was stupid to think I could just go back to being Hot Rod. Maybe Hot Rod never existed. Maybe I was always Rodimus.

There was Unicron and Optimus died and then he came back.

No, he came back wrong, all wrong. and then Trion stabbed.

No, wait.

No, wait.

No. No.

... was I reincarnated?

****

Rusti numbered her days according to the date first mentioned by Nimbus. As time drifted from September into October, she encountered seven more 'representatives' from the other ships; that of the Sagittarian Mozart, the Crested Moon and the Confiscator. The Sabor's claw approached her in the form of a great and powerful black panther while the Trench Driver thought it amusing to masquerade itself as a gargoyle, which about scared the hair off her head. So put off was she by the antics, that Rusti decided to 'redecorate' the Driver's motif. First, she told the gargoyle (he?!) was not to be in her presence without something to cover his 'anatomically correct' form. He either had to wear jeans (her preference) or he could wear a loin cloth (his preference) so long as he agreed to wear a belt with it.

The Trench Driver begged her not to make him wear a shirt. The very fact that the gargoyle representation made her shudder every time she saw his face was enough to make her want to dress him in a Hawaiian flower shirt with a grass skirt and a set of sunglasses.

He wept. He wept over the very indignity of wearing a grass skirt and defended himself on the basis that he was, after all, an Autobot guardian ship. Rusti about swore up and down she suffered delusions wrought by another dose of joys. Maybe the doctors and counselors and psychics who attended the Q-Virus survivors added medication in food and drink. At least Rusti might have a real excuse as to the fairy tale insanity now besieging her. Only Dezi's words kept her grounded enough not to fall prey to a meltdown.

Four days after 'redressing' the Trench Driver, Rusti learned the Autobots bustled with shock, reeling from the discovery that the Trench Driver mysteriously changed its own color, added new plating to its undercarriage and created a set of new shields over its scanning systems. Without mentioning her experience to anyone else, Rusti confronted the gargoyle in a quiet grove just beyond the gardens.

"You told me to," Driver said defensively. "I came to you in all my unaltered glory and suddenly you wanted me to put on sunglasses and a tutu."

"It's a loin cloth," Rusti corrected. "And you agreed to that rather than jeans. But you didn't tell me it'd affect the... vessel part of you."

"I am the vessel!" Driver whined. "Whaddyou expect? Anything you change here, will change there, too. And why are you singling me out from everyone else? Why don't you ask the Confiscator to look more like a belly dancer than a pirate?"

"Because the Confiscator isn't walking around with dangling parts!"

The Trench Driver pointed at her. "Hey, those parts of me that dangle, dangle very well. It's all a part of me."

Rusti gripped her hair and spun away. "Oh, gawd, I can't believe this is happening to me!" She faced Driver. "The loin cloth and belt stays."

Driver held his hands out to ward off her irritation. "Hey, you're the boss. Not a problem. And yeah, I don't mind the sunglasses so much. ...well, as long as I get to keep my wings."

Rusti relaxed a little and released a smile. "That's the best part of you."

Insomnia plagued most ladies who survived the Q-Virus; some more than others. Rusti gradually found herself toward the top list of those who slept all of two or three hours. Doctors and counselors warned everyone they were likely to suffer nightmares until their subconscious processed all the trauma and horror they experienced over the course of time. Sadly enough, in spite of the staff's best efforts, one lady ended her life just the night before. The mood, now somber in spite of another sweet and gentle rainstorm, stifled any interest in art, games, music or movies. Rusti spent two days simply sitting on a bench swing, a vacant look evaporated the light in her eyes. Since the day she returned to life on Yolthanis, she experienced a millisecond of a picture as it flashed then disappeared. No matter how hard she tried to capture the image, it evaded her conscious mind. The only impression she ever caught was that of rushing water.

It was always rushing water.

To Rusti's annoyance, Chy-Chaunam picked up the impressions of her confusion and tried to get her to talk about it. Those moments ended the same: she'd shake her head. "I don't have enough to tell myself. How could I tell you?"

The afternoon after the one suicide, Chy-Chaunam visited Rusti in the garden and without permission, sat beside her on the bench swing. "I know you do not like to talk to me," the psychic stated. "It makes you uncomfortable. But I am concerned. I swear it has nothing to do with judgment or manipulation, Rusti. I just want to help." Rusti dragged her eyes off the blank sheet of drawing paper. Her eyes looked past the psychic while she ignored Chy-Chaunam's indignant glare. "Why do you continue to avert your eyes when I speak with you?" she asked firmly. "It's rude."

Rusti looked into the psychic's green eyes and blinked slowly. "It's not intentional. I'm sorry. It's that the Cold Refractor is standing behind you." Rusti's expression did not change when Chy-Chaunam turned to see for herself. Naturally, she saw nothing.

"Very well," the psychic turned back with a slight frown. "Let's say that you do see these figures. What does this one look like?"

"A white dragon. A small one."

Chy-Chaunam with a nod: "and am I to guess that each ship is represented by a different character?"

"Yes. The Interrogator looks like an old scroll. Sometimes it's just a piece of paper. Yesterday it communicated with me in the form of a digipad."

"So, they can change shape?"

"No. Just the Interrogator."

The slender psychic processed Rusti's answer a short moment. "Do you think, perhaps, the personalities you've impressed upon the ships is your own way of processing all the things that have happened to you? Or maybe you've created a world of your own in which you can escape to rather than deal with what you're feeling?"

"Are you accusing me of making up my own defense mechanism?" Rusti recalled enough of her psychiatry class to counter the psychic's diagnosis. Not that she raised her voice; she had no energy to so much as exert irritation.

"Aren't you?"

Rusti smiled mirthlessly. "What was her name? Sam-something? Samiko? Yeah. She visited me in the, um, the quarantine when I was so sick. Trevor decided to visit me, too."

"Trevor?"

"The science station came to me in the form of a classmate named Trevor Tolomsky. creepy, if you ask me, since I can't figure out how a collection of buildings could pick up on psychic or mental engrams. Maybe it's that I subconsciously exert something that... awakens..." Rusti blinked then looked confused. The image of bubbling water flashed through her like a strike of lightning. Her eyes dropped, lashes batted while she struggled to capture more information of the image or event.

Chy-Chaunam gripped the younger lady's wrist and gasped. "Something happened to you!"

A sea of drowsiness assailed Rusti and her eyelids grew heavy. She smiled, however, amused by Chy-Chaunam's words. No duh, she thought. She laid her head on the back of the bench swing and fell asleep.

In reality, Chy-Chaunam caught the girl as she fainted.

Resonna Witwicky entered the world mid-afternoon of June 19, 2021 as the last child Daniel and his wife Netty planned to have. Her mother's gynecologist, Dr. Patros Wernerzenski, performed three other deliveries that afternoon. He was pleased to announce the world now contained three more boys and one girl. He took a vacation two weeks after Resonna's birth and died in a plane crash.

Resonna grew up in a home sheltered from the outside world, largely that of news from or about Fortress Maximus. She lived a mostly-normal life with two working parents and an aunt to made sure Resonna and her two siblings, a sister and brother, had the best day care available. Resonna's life remained quiet. Her father, long since handicapped due to an accident of which he would not speak, lived and worked in a bulky exosuit. He drove a convertible-a pink car in which none of the children ever rode; their parents taxied them in a blue minivan.

When she turned seven, Resonna's mother took her and Dezi to Sunday School every week and left the girls there until mid-afternoon. And while Resonna learned about God and that faith guaranteed her a place in Heaven, her mother secreted an affair which ended three years later.

Three months after Resonna's tenth birthday, her older brother Brian joined a gang with connections to the Mexican cartel. Accused of first-degree murder, Brian sat in prison until he joined the army and toured South Korea. The North Korean army invaded South Korea and Brian returned home in a box.

Dezi met a nice guy during her first year in college. She married him, gave birth to a son then she and her family moved to Autobot city, England.

Resonna never saw her sister again.

By March of Resonna's fifteenth year, a bizarre and terrorfying number of events scarred every corner and society on Earth. People disappeared at an astonishing rate. Not due to kidnapping or accidents, but through the walls of their homes or businesses. Buildings moved and twisted of their own accord. One-third of the planet suffered from power outages. Rumors of an alien monster spread from Fortress Maximus. More than that, Rusti heard the Autobot leaders slaughtered hundreds of people.

It was not until August of that same year the supernatural events came to a halt. News reached far and wide, declaring the death of the two Autobot leaders, assassinated by city commander Ultra Magnus. The terror subsided, but no one trusted the Autobots and bit by bit, the nations politely asked the Autobots to leave.

Far easier a thing said than executed. The Autobots were an integral part of all facets of Earth's societies.

Resonna met cody Greydon, a nice boy with a sweet mother. Her strong love for cody made decision making difficult and Resonna hoped to spend her life with him. Ten months later she found herself sixteen and pregnant. The situation produced a great deal of stress, confusion and fear in their relationship. But she was determined to make things right, both for her love and for the baby.

While Resonna and cody struggled to straighten their lives, a cult of madmen calling themselves Dopplegangers besieged central city. They blew up all the bridges, set traps at the airport, derailed all trains and tore up every road leading to the outside world.

Taking the city bus from home to a doctor's appointment, Resonna comforted her fussy daughter. It was hard to deal with a baby when too often all she wanted to do was go places and have carefree fun. Still, she adored her daughter and named her Gracelyn after her great grandmother.

The bus paused at a red light and the minute it stopped, twelve people in masks aimed powerful assault rifles at the bus. without thought to her own safety, Resonna bowed over to protect her baby. A storm of large bullets shattered every window in the bus and pierced through its thin exterior.

Neither Resonna nor her baby survived.

Rusti sat in the bench swing, her eyes on nothing, her mind a billion miles from anything. Her awareness of the person beside her floated somewhere in the far back of her stream of thought. Mechlatex, Rusti thought. That's who sat beside her. "You come to me," she said quietly. "But I have nothing to offer. I have nothing to give."

Mechlatex spoke with a quiet, melodious voice: "Rusti, you have more to give than you think."

She considered her brief life and pursed her lips. "My life came to nothing; no future. I lived a few years and that was it." she shook her head. "where's the fairness in that? There are useless people out there who lived longer than me and they were allowed to throw their lives away. I wanted..."

"Fairness is an illusion, Rusti. It's a concept seldom attained. All we have in life are choices. You chose to be irresponsible. Eventually that choice led you to use the bus as transportation which led to your demise."

Rusti stared into space and nothing. She let herself down. She let Cody and Gracelyn down. "I don't understand. If that's it for me, then why am I here?"

"Because that's not it for you. I brought you here to offer you a chance at another life."

"With a condition, right?"

"Well, yes," Mechlatex returned cautiously. "you are one of only three people I can turn to. I can't decide this for you, Rusti. I can't make you do anything you do not want."

Rusti blinked. "Oh. What is it, then? Sounds serious."

From the folds of her gleaming robes, Mechlatex produced a shard of light. Pure beyond any light Rusti encountered, it glimmered with indefinable colors; powerful and vulnerable. "This," Mechlatex stated, "is part of a soul most precious to me. I need to keep it hidden." She deposited the shard into Rusti's hands and watched as the young lady marveled and puzzled over it.

"It's Optimus," she whispered.

"Yes."

"What happened to him?"

Mechlatex turned sad. "Horror. cruelty. They tore him apart. I almost failed. I did fail. I could not reach him in time." A tear mapped a path down her face. "All I found were pieces."

Confused, Rusti tore her eyes off Mechlatex. "you want me to keep this-him-hidden?"

"They'd never think to look for a person within a person. It's the best idea I have. No other place; a box, or a planet, is strong enough to hide the brilliance of a soul."

Rusti nodded, understanding. It would be like a light hiding within a light. "Will it hurt?"

"You'll feel nothing."

"But you can't promise there won't be, uh, side-effects." It was more a question than a statement, but since she knew nothing regarding such a ploy, Rusti thought it best to tread along the shallow areas first.

Mechlatex smiled lightly. "Nothing greater than what isn't already in your DNA." She watched the young lady nod solemnly. "But I should tell you, Rusti-or rather warn you: whatever decision you make will affect your entire life. Your future and your past will be forever altered."

"But my past already happened. How could it be altered?. I'm confused."

"You and I are 300 years in the past. At this moment, you do not as yet exist. I traveled here, knowing the Quintessons at this time know nothing of Earth, of you, or the whereabouts of the Matrix of Leadership. Optimus dies Earth Date 2005. The year after, the Quintessons will bring him to a half-life and use him to destroy the Autobots. By doing so, however, they will cause a shift in the timeline. Five years from that, a woman, about your age, will encounter Optimus in space, heading for a dying star. When she rescues him he will be, shall we say, reinsouled. He comes back, but not whole; not all in one piece. I cannot hide the other pieces myself. I am already under suspicion."

Mechlatex's story held the complexity of a mathematical equation. Rusti tried to follow the logic but her limited knowledge failed. She batted her eyes and creased her brows. "Suspicion of what?"

"Plagiarism."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

Mechlatex bore a guilty expression. "I love them. I love Primus' children. Only a select few of our kind are allowed to have children. Primus encouraged the Quintessons to build a collection of assembled creatures with artificial intellect so that he himself might exploit them for his personal purposes. And while the robots eventually developed the capacity of an earth child at the age of nine, they were yet classified only as animals and thereby given no rights. However, were they given the Spark of Life; of a soul, then they'd be entitled to certain rights, freedoms and protection."

Rusti's eyes shot wide. "You! The Matrix came from you, not Primacron!"

The feminine supercreature nodded, guilty as charged. "There were a collection of seven. I-I stole two."

"Seven matrices?"

"They're called Eden Stones, precious gifts for a select few."

You Breathe his Breath. Rusti blinked, recalling some voice in the distant future past. It immediately occurred to her how and why the Matrix fixated on her; it wasn't her at all, but a portion of Optimus' spark within her. No, wait a minute. Three hundred years in the past. She wasn't born yet.

"...What are you afraid of?"

"That an entire species will perish and with them, all those with whom they are associated." Rusti blinked, wondering how she came up with that answer.

Koontah's gaze lingered, though he displayed no emotion. After some silence, he finally drew a breath, "I suspect that eventually one decision, Rusti, will determine your entire life: both your future and your past."

Was this it? Was this moment exactly what Ambassador Koontah spoke about? Had to be. Had to be. Rusti stared at the bright fragment. She had the choice between a normal but brief life, or a life of troublesome uncertainties and fears. I would be a mother, she thought sadly. But that was a life cut short; a life without Optimus and Rodimus. It was a life outside of Fort Max; a life of home and family rather than that of a refugee.

"...Whatever's going on with you, take it in stride. then pick it up and run with it. Know why?"

"No."

"cuz we're Witwicky. Just... the luckiest bitches in the galaxy. Right? We got the goods, Sweetheart. Don't get cocky. Keep your head. You'll do okay."

There was her answer. Saying nothing at the moment, Rusti clutched the spark fragment close to her heart and closed her eyes. Mechlatex beside her kissed Rusti's left temple and whispered: "Thank you. For both of us."

Dr. Cynyr delivered the baby on June 19, 2021. Rusti grew up with the Autobots much as her grandfather and father did. At the age of nine, Rusti sought emancipation from her parents. A cult declared war on central city, Fortress Maximus and the Autobots while Optimus Prime drew further and further into himself...

****

October 27 landed on a Sunday. The morning pushed away the dark and brought with it a partly-cloudy sky and chilly temperatures. Torphors, little birds no larger than the sparrow, populated a nearby white oak. Their brilliant blue bodies dressed the tree as if they were flowers. They chortled and sang quietly while at a greater distance, the pesky broom-birds squawked and blurbled as they paddled along the banks of several ponds.

What the hell were birds doing on Cratis?

Cratis, right?

Cratis?

Rodimus' optics dimmed on while his fuzzy head surged and ebbed between distorted dreams and half-memories. Light glared hard and painful against his sensitive optics. Rodimus shut them down then gradually dimmed them on again. Was this what it was like to suffer from a hangover? In spite of the static, Rodimus managed to make out basic shapes. From the comfortable flat, he faced a domed ceiling but made neither connection nor comparison to his whereabouts. Wasn't he on the Gabriel Genesis? That was his ship, right? Yeah. Op took the crested Moon, though Roddi wished he'd taken the Vertical Horizon. It was one of the tougher vessels.

Wait, what? Didn't that kinda mean they already left cratis? Rodimus tugged his languid form up so that he half sat. Then he wished he didn't. Vertigo forced him down and Rodimus held his head in case it spun off his shoulders. The bed tipped up then down while the room turned into a merry go-round. Stop, stop! Roddi drew air to cool the back of his head. Once the bed stopped tipping, Rodimus dared a second peek at his environment. The stark white ceiling hovered above him with crossed wooden beams and light fixtures between them and the dome so that the light spread evenly and softly.

All right, enough screwing around, he told himself. There was a lot of catching up to do. He slowly sat up and grimaced. His optics failed to stay adjusted. colors shimmied and shapes blurred into twos and threes. Prime bowed over just enough to hide his optics from the light glaring at his face. The longer he sat there, the faster his processors spun, flipping from one thought to the next until thoughts, memories and dreams collided into a mental mess. All kinds of serious weirdness taunted his logic chips; his reasoning abilities lacked both stability and strength. Did he pass from a nightmare into some kind of liquid reality? Look around you, dumbass, he thought.

Rodimus lifted his fuzzy optics to scrutinize his surroundings little more carefully. It took him several seconds to determine one object from another; the walls, the paintings and a floor-to-ceiling fish tank. The gentle sounds of wind chimes called outside the windows. Part of the room reflected indirect lighting. Part of it sank into a shallow shadow. Within that shadow a figure lay on a flat: Optimus.

The senior Prime lay on a flat twenty feet from Roddi's left. Unlike Roddi's flat which floated eighteen inches off a dais, Optimus' flat hugged the edges of a sunken area, gently curtained from the brighter light sources. The room in which they resided enveloped them in a semi-circle with polarized windows and an archway leading into another chamber.

"Where the Pitt are we?" Rodimus asked out loud. "Op? You awake? Optimus?"

A door opened from the far end of the adjacent chamber and in stepped a tall organic male in grey hair, light blue robes and a human smile. He grinned at Rodimus with relief etched into his dimples. "Rodimus!" he greeted. The voice sounded familiar but Roddi failed to place from where. Rodimus slowly slid off his flat. His legs trembled under his weight and Prime winced when pain shot up his legs and affected his sides and chestplate. The room teetered just enough to force him still longer than he liked. The first step came stiff, stilted and graceless. Rodimus wanted to stand between the stranger and Optimus. But his body refused to adhere to his wishes.

"Don't-don't move too fast, Rodimus. Your body is out of sync with this time stream." The humanoid expected an answer and received none. "You don't recognize me, do you?" he deducted.

"What was your first clue?"

The alien shrugged and pocketed his hands. "I'm Paul, Rodimus. Doctor Paul Gates? Quantum Labs? Torq III?"

Dumbfounded, Rodimus soundlessly gaped; his meta processor stalled in the warming stage.

Paul pointed a finger at the Prime. "Did I just catch you in a wordless moment? Ha! That's a first."

"y-you-you-"

"Oh. Oh yes, I'm very sorry. I came here as soon as they said you were awake. I didn't want you to think you were in some stranger's house." Paul watched Prime lift his optics toward the ceiling then rounded the room in a single glance. the doctor wheezed with half a laugh. "Oh. Right. New place equals stranger's place." He skipped a beat: "you're here, Rodimus. You guys finally made it to Yolthanis Three."

Roddi turned away, hand at the back of his head. His face contorted with confusion. "We were still on cratis... oh, wait. Galvatron." he looked back at Gates. "Right. Galvatron and Mr. Spock. Uhh... there was something about a plant invading Magnus' ship. We encountered a derelict ship smack in the middle of nowhere." Rodimus shook his head. "everything after that... every thing's a great big grey blob of zippo." Rodimus' optics read everything wrong. He pressed his fingers between them as he slightly swayed under his weakened condition. Before he protested, Paul approached and slung an arm about Roddi's back.

"Take it easy there, Rodimus," the doctor said gently. "Let's get you to the infirmary and get you realigned. Don't worry. I'll hold your hand the entire time."

Rodimus allowed the doctor to guide him out both rooms and into a dimly-lit hallway. "You always were good to me, Paul," he belatedly responded.

Rodimus grasped only the most fundamental points of their status. He lay on another flat while they ran lasers over his body. Paul explained it; something about 'quantum fluctuations and realigned particles. And while he heard it all, Rodimus' mangled meta-processor failed to grasp any concept beyond injury/medical assistance requirement.

"how do you feel, by the way?" Paul asked him before they ran a spectra-scan over him.

"Uh... let me sleep on that," Rodimus returned in a slurred speech. 'Everything else okay?" Paul gave him updates but the doctor's words ran into one another. Something about Convoy, the ships and communication with some place. Two minutes into the first spectra-scan, Rodimus gave up and returned to sleep.

Upon his fifth awakening (according to Rodimus' account) he beheld the the person who kept quiet vigil at his side. No nurses or doctors or whomever hovered over him asking questions for which he had no answer. Instead a little lady friend sat cozy in a chair far too large for her, reading a book. Light static fuzzed Rusti's image. Other than that, the Autobot leader delighted to see someone familiar, someone he loved. The smile he attempted destabilized.

"Hey," he greeted with a rough voice. The smile she gave him touched his spark with heavenly warmth. One smile and everything was okay.

Rusti set the marker on her page and closed the book. "Your physician is cranky. But he's also near-sighted. He pays no attention to little things."

"You snuck in here to see me and Op?" He received another smile but not nearly as bright. "You make me proud, Lady-Friend. So tell me, how long have we been here?"

"Four months, nineteen days and two hours."

Rodimus twisted his face with puzzlement. "Wow, that's pretty darn detailed."

Maintaining her smile, Rusti snorted benevolently: "No, Roddi. That's Razor. She's like this calculator-slash-bean-counter. Probably because she thinks she's a cat."

Rodimus did not miss how Rusti batted her lashes after her last sentence. She kept something out of their conversation and he carefully kept suspicion off his expression. "So... tell me, Lady-Friend: what happened after we left cratis? My cranky doctor said I'm not supposed to worry about anything. Not that I am. But I have a few episodes missing out of my collection."

"Oh! Ummm..." Rusti swiftly decided what to tell the recovering Autobot leader and what needed to be said later. "Um, Magnus was in charge until we ended up here. So right now, convoy's taken over."

"convoy? Well how about that? I always liked a lady who's intelligent, classy and knows how to boss people around. What else?"

Well... do you remember that creepy ancient ship we encountered? Well the Sagittarian Mozart was infested with alien plant life that came from it. Oh, and the Mozart said that he did not appreciate the tree that grew in a place not meant for trees. Actually, the Mozart considered jettison-ing the plants, since there was stuff growing in the air vents."

Rodimus tilted his head. "How do you know that?"

"Well, he told me."

"Th-waitaminute. Rodimus slowly sat up and mentally pushed his way through the headache gnawing on his cranium. "the ship spoke to you?"

Rusti blinked. "Uh, yeah. Been doing that for a while now, Rodimus. You should know that." She squinted at his blank look. "Don't you remember? I was communicating with them since cratis. But it wasn't until we ended up here that I started-" She cut herself off, realizing how absurd she sounded. "Okay, look, what matters is that I'm telemechanic and it's not going away. The ships talk to me; I talk back. They complain and..." here she rolled her eyes upward, "the gossip I hear! God, I will never be friends with anyone unless you and Op find a way to tell the ships not to tell me so much!"

Rodimus huffed in laughter. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Stuff that I have no right to know! For example: Springer is terrified of arachnids-that includes crabs, spiders and ticks. When the Alvarez was infested with robo-lice, Repugnus intentionally contaminated living quarters with them. He and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe got into a brawl over it. The Alvarez thinks it's funny because the twins kept etching obscene pictures and bad poetry on the walls in their quarters. I also happen to know that Wheeljack thinks Apogee is adorable."

"Fff!" Rodimus searched the ceiling and shook his head. Then his head back-tracked. "Wait a minute: what did you just say?"

"Wheeljack thinks-"

"WHEELJAcK??"

Rusti squished her lips tightly then smiled sheepishly.

Rodimus refused to let Rusti go until he heard about everything from the time they left cratis. Of course her accounts did not include other incidents residing in his personal logs or Magnus' Rodimus recalled the task he and Galvatron undertook to rescue Little Bo Magnus and his ship. It was not until Rusti talked about the Imperium that Rodimus remembered they boarded the derelict vessel so she could communicate with it.

"We...all of us... landed... tried...psychic assault..."

That was the half-second they should have left the ship. But something happened. And then he boarded the shuttle and that was it. Rodimus' memory tormented and taunted him with promises of horrors locked away in a temporary box. Once the lock dissolved, however, he was in for a very unpleasant ride.

choosing to obey First Aid's orders to stay down, Rodimus vacationed in the room with Optimus three and a half more days. Rusti visited him once each day and told him of more events during his slumber. Rusti's report regarding Daniel roused Prime's ire enough to tempt him to head straight to the Kummya and handle Witwicky himself. But Roddi's weariness kept him from charging off. Besides, he thought, there will be time enough for that.

He could not have been happier to hear about the communications link the Autobots now had with the Underground on Earth. After everything the Autobots struggled through in the last (years???) hearing from Earth brought much-needed hope.

Wheeljack visited the second day of Roddi's 'vacation'. He listened carefully to Wheeljack's amazing story and marveled at their great fortune; an old and well-trusted friend returned to them. Rodimus craved greater detailed information but the Autobot scientist made him promise to patiently wait until he healed a little more.

"They've ran several tests with you and Optimus," Wheeljack added later. "We had no idea whether or not the new chips would work. I mean, growing crystals is one thing but the meticulous detail..." he shook his head and gazed downward. "Plain crazy."

Rodimus struggled to remember, struggled to envision what wheeljack said. Just like the last few days, his head drew nothing but a big-loaded zippo.

Rodimus' physical strength did not reach beyond a measly forty percent even seven days post-wake up. He strolled outside twice a day, enjoyed the sun for twenty minutes before returning to his flat, exhausted and listless. Rusti visited him without missing a day and told him about Arcee's new paint job.

"She looks beautiful, too," the young lady added. "Arcee's also changed her spoiler and made additions to her foretoes."

"Sounds great," Rodimus cheered half-heartedly. "I'm glad she's finally moving on, dumping the chump emotionally. Hard to let people you once loved go. Very hard." Rodimus unintentionally fell asleep, leaving Rusti in silent concern.

Rodimus boarded the Gabriel Genesis intending to take back leadership duties. But his attention span forced him to abandon the six digipads sitting before him. He stared at them and remembered how Optimus' work piled like one mountain atop another. And yet, he privately confessed, his reluctance was more than the shot-to-the-pitt attention span. Memories from Bare Anches crawled around his head like an infestation. He was responsible to and for his people and he let them all down. Guilt sucked the energy out of him. How, why was he even alive?

"I can't do this," he mumbled absently. "I don't know how I ever did it. What am I going to do?" Rodimus pushed from his desk, bowed over and dropped his head in his hands.

After a third and equally as futile effort to look at one digipad then another, Rodimus gave up and left his quarters. He weakly returned eager greetings from those who passed him.

Trixy caught him before Prime stepped foot in the turbolift. "Hope you don't mind me hitching a ride, commander," she said cheerfully.

Rodimus masked his angst with a broad and welcoming smile. "Not at all! Everything on the up-and-up?"

"Yes, Sir!" she returned in the same tones. "They've been working hard on the hydroponics on the Sunset Kummya. I've been asked to assemble a platform for herbs. Would you like to see my design?"

No, not really, Rodimus thought. Again his smiley mask switched on: "Of course!" He half listened as Trixy held her didgipad for him and pointed to all the details as she rolled off one plan after another. Seven minutes into her dissertation, the turbo lift stopped and the doors opened.

"Captain Titanium!" Trixy squealed. "I was just showing Rodimus all the new specs we've put together for the Kummya's second hydroponics level! Wanna see?"

Rodimus watched as Titanium's optics shot broad and bright in terror. The Frostbite's captain held his hands out to ward the femme off. "Uh, no. I-I think I took the wrong turbo lift. So sorry-"

"Oh don't be silly!" Trixy grabbed the captain's hand. "we'll all fit in here!" As she tugged him inward, the mech tripped on the threshold and collided into Rodimus. Both mechs fell with a resounding crunch. Rodimus grunted with Titanium's weight and Titanium wheezed.

"Ow," he mewed. "So sorry, Roddi. Really. Let me-" the captain rolled off and emitted a sharp cry.

"Oh Primus!" Trixy exclaimed. "You've broken your hand again! Here, let me help you up-"

"NO! NO!" Titanium, an Autobot nearly as tall as Magnus and built like a tank, withered from Trixy like a frightened mouse. He scrunched tightly into the farthest corner and held his damaged hand. "I'm good! I'm-I'm fine!"

Trixy nodded. "Okay. Just thought I'd help-Oh, you need to see this!" she started to hand the captain her digipad but it slipped from her fingers and sank into the mech's upper left optic. The poor fellow howled with fresh pain. Trixy panicked, tried to reach over Rodimus to help out and tripped over Prime. She face- planted into Titanium's chest plate.

"Aaaagggghhhh!!" Titanium howled. Without a word, Rodimus grabbed the femme about her midriff and hauled her out. He preset the lift for Titanium and offered a sympathetic smile as the doors closed.

"Oh no!" Trixy wailed. "My digipad's still in there!" She made to call the turbo lift when Rodimus caught her hand.

"I'm sure the good captain will see to it you get it back, Trixy," he grinned tightly when she looked as him like a little girl who lost her dolly.

"Well... I guess it's okay, then. At least he'll have it with him when he gets a chance to look it over. Poor guy," she added after a pause, "Captain Titanium's been in and out of the infirmary seven times now. He keeps falling or tripping or losing stuff when he sees me. Do you think he might like me, Rodimus?"

"Uhh..."

"You know, Ultra Magnus always has the same trouble. They're both so shy! It's just so sweet!"

Rodimus feigned surprise. "You don't say!"

Leaving the Gabriel Genesis for a while, Rodimus boarded the Trench Driver to visit Jazz. Captain Jazz invited Roddi into his spacious ready room for a shot of 'hot' energon and some private chat. After three minutes of awkward silence, Jazz hopped onto his desk and dangled his legs over the edge.

"I know you got something cooking in yer head, man. What's goin' on Roddi?"

Rodimus shook his head. "Want a laundry list?"

"I know it ain't been easy for anybody," Jazz stated obviously. "'specially for you an' Op. But yer here. We're here. Nobody got left behind. I'm pretty darn sure you didn't 'spect t' come along, didn't you?" Jazz paused, waiting for Rodimus to confirm or deny the accusation. "Yeah," Jazz drawled. "You were." Rodimus snapped a brief glare and Jazz snorted. "Don't look at me like that. I might not be a Prime, but I sure know how t' read one. So don't you go an' tell me that plan t' stay an' die didn't skid across your noggin, Rodimus. If Op thought of stayin' on Planet Hell, I got no doubt you did too."

Rodimus regarded him solemnly. "You're right," he replied sadly. "I should have stayed, Jazz."

"Why?"

"On the basis of what I did back there."

"Aww..." Jazz glanced to the right and shook his head once. "You ain't t' blame, Man. It's all been some kinda crap shoot from the start! We don't even know where the Virus came from."

"Don't we?" Rodimus challenged. "Think on it, Jazz. Think carefully. Op was sick first. How and when do you think he might have made contact? The Quintessons freely admit they constructed the four-legged abomination."

Jazz stared him down in contemplation. He took a small sip of 'hot juice' and thought on it more. The Autobot specialist finished his drink and shook his head. "Yeah, okay. Lookit, Rod-man: there ain't a dang thing none of us can do about that look backwards. We escaped the Quintesson hell-hole. We got you an' Op out an' here you are, sittin' there with a frown too big for yer face. So tell me up-straight, Roddi: is that Void-thing still harassing you? Is it still suckin' the energon outta yer head?"

Rodimus merely shook his head. Even in his dreams he neither saw, heard or felt the faintest shadow of the Matrix Virus.

"But ya still ain't happy."

Rodimus stood abruptly. "What am I supposed to be happy about, Jazz? Huh? You wanna know what went on in my head while I was playing body-part art? Do you? I was working on a way to obliterate everything on that asteroid. You, me, everyone and the entire Quintesson enchilada out with a big bang. New supernova blows the galaxy's biggest black hole since Matrix verses Unicron. Don't think for the fraction of a microsecond I was unaware of what was going on with Op-what he was turning into! I knew what was happening to Op, to me-you have no idea, how close we came to cloning the Virus!"

"No, Rodimus," Jazz said flatly. "I do. Ever'one who was there in the command center... we saw you, Roddi. An' ol' Galvatron... I'd never thought I'd live t' see the day when I'd be glad we got Decepticons as friends. An' you an' Op weren't alone then, Rod-man. You ain't alone now. You go off an' push yerself like you was some kinda... super-Roddi and you ain't. Not your or Op. You might be Prime, but you ain't invincible. You ain't infallible. An' you sure ain't evil. Ya might be a show-off, Roddi. But you ain't evil. Whatever happened back there is still back there. It ain't here. It ain't on my ship, not on yer ship. It's not on this island. At some point, you gotta lookit yerself in a different mirror, man. Let it go."

The conversation between Optimus and Trion turned short when Trion gasped and gurgled. Optimus sliced his fluid lines and Alfalfa-T, my tormentor and ball-and-chain dropped dead. I did not care. The Matrix no longer existed; its pieces lay before me like broken jewelry. I gathered every minute shard and cradled them in my hand. Maybe we'd find another one. Maybe one could be built or purchased somewhere.

Yeah, I was fooling myself, or trying to. Six Decepticons entered the courtroom; six friends. Akhal approached. Her warm hand lay on my arm, but I could not face her. I was a ghost, fading with the setting sun. I picked up three more diminutive pieces as Optimus scrunched before me. My best friend was here.

"Roddi."

His deep warm voice touched me inside. Emptiness masticated my soul. I am a broken, bleeding mess. Optimus laid his hand on my hand, my hand filled with the shards of a destitute future.

"I failed," I whispered. "I failed. I failed."

"No."

I trembled, heartbroken. Any new Autobots; any sparklings would be nothing more than automatons; souless, empty shells. Optimus' color faded before my optics. I too, lost color as I hemorrhaged to death.

The shards tumbled from my hand and tinkled like tiny wind chimes as they hit the floor. The shards shattered into minuscule fragments, echoing the finality of my existence; the extinction of my people. I embraced Optimus as my systems failed one after another. "Op... Op," my voice faded as I wept.*

Rodimus woke on his flat with a wet face and a broken heart. He rolled to his side, faced the wall, and wept quietly.

Galvatron awoke to soft illumination of blue light. The world hovered about him in darkness. The unfamiliar sound of insects seeped into his audio receptors from a distance. At first he thought himself stationed on some planet. Then he recalled the nice motel room he shared with Prime and cyclonus on cratis. Even in his fuzzy consciousness, the former Decepticon leader knew they no longer resided on the crappy excuse for a planet.

Where, then? Lifting his torso, heavy with prolonged inactivity, Galvatron supported his weight by the elbow and scanned his whereabouts. No weapons. No electrical prison bars. No menacing brute stood at the nearby doorway. With grunt of doubt and bewilderment, Galvatron fully sat up. He winced in discomfort and laid a hand on his chest.

"Dark," he muttered. Memories sketched an incomplete landscape across his mind. His recollection of sounds jumbled like a set of dice rolling out of sync with reality. Screams came foremost to his mind. Yes, screams but why? Where from?

Rather than searching through his memory banks for answers, Galvatron just sat on the flat in the dark and listened to his surroundings. Was he the only person alive?

Not likely.

Waitaminute. Lifting his left foot over his right knee, Galvatron examined the bottom for damage. He recalled the floor under him melted. Sure enough, he found foreign material under his boots. what about other damage? Wasn't there damage on the right side?

Yup.

Left hip?

Yup, it's still there, too.

"Hmph. Now I'm someone's chew toy," he muttered to himself. "Love my life." Tentatively, he stood off the bed, testing his weight on sore feet. The discomfort did not rise higher than a level-five pain and Galvatron considered that reasonable. With a list of missing persons compiled in his head, the Decepticon shuffled through them one by one to determine which person he wanted to find first. He peeked out the doorway and gazed down one short corridor then the other. Left led him to a large room, softly lit. Right led him to a pair of glass doors and a dark outside world.

He started at the sudden sound of an unfamiliar voice: "Good morning, Galvatron!"

He spun left and faced a humanoid male standing almost as tall as himself. Galvatron stared, his expression blank with uncertainty.

The male smiled and produced a thin digipad. "It's about 3:46 A.M. Standard Pacific Time on Earth. Are you hungry?"

"Uhh..."

The humanoid nodded left toward the large room. "come with me."

Galvatron hesitated a moment before catching up. "Why am I still alive?"

The alien shrugged. "Restraining orders from the Pitt, perhaps? A guardian angel? Someone with a bad sense of humor?" He paused before they entered the room. "Or maybe divine irony. My name is Raydroth, by the way. I keep the night watch on this wing."

"Galvatron," he smiled wryly, "Former leader of the Decepticons, general nuisance and currently unchaperoned. Are the Primes alive? Are they alright? What of cyclonus?"

The alien invited Galvatron to sit at a table as he took a seat himself. "Most everyone is fine."

"Most?"

"There have been a few humanoid female casualties. Some did not survive the Q-Virus."

Galvatron stiffened his lip components and held his face like a stone. "There was a girl among those patients. curly red hair, freckles. Her name was Rusti-"

"She's fine."

Galvatron dimmed his optics as his body relaxed. "Well, then... I'm guessing we actually made it to Yolthanis Three?"

"Yes!" Raydroth's attention slipped left as a tall, rounded lady in a white smock approached the table. She set a tall drink for Radroth and a mug of energon for Galvatron. "You might be glad to know, Galvatron, that Rodimus is awake. He came to life about three or four days ago."

Galvatron nodded. "Magnus? Prime?" He took a sip of hot liquid and looked at it in surprise. "Paynkine? For real? Where did you get this? It's been extinct since Earth Date 1997!"

Raydroth smiled. "You're not in 1997. You and the Autobots arrived here from 2044, as you recall. You landed in Earth Date 1745. Right place, wrong time."

Galvatron stared blankly before grunting. "I told him to use the blue button. "Blue button, not black,' I told him." He relished his energon as Radroth's expression wrinkled with surprise.

"Eh?"

"Never mind," the Decepticon dismissed. "Tell me, how are my friends?"

Meanwhile, he visited Optimus on his third day. To the Decepticon's relief, he found Rusti sitting beside Prime, quietly reading a book. She lowered it from her eyes and grinned.

"Wow, I never thought I'd be happy to see you, Galvatron."

"Been getting that a lot lately," he returned quietly. Should I go missing more often?" Rusti shrugged but did not lose her smile. "So!" Galvatron declared as he found a seat on Roddi's flat. "How are they," he nodded toward Optimus, "and how are you?"

Rusti sighed. "Roddi's not himself. Optimus is still not with us and I am doing okay."

Galvatron wordlessly nodded. Taking in the girl's physic, he realized how much older she looked now. Her eyes, once dry in the cratian environment, dimmed with the sadness of peril and survival. Scars lined her forearms. A darker hue colored her red hair. Galvatron guessed the medical staff kept her on some sort of medication.

The long space of silence broke when Rusti's quiet voice filled the air between them: "did they tell you we have contact with Earth?"

He shook his head. "Haven't gotten that far into the game yet, Mizz Rusti. I know Rodimus is up. Magnus is still down. Who's in charge? Or, rather, who's been in charge?"

"convoy. She woke up first-well, she and Arcee. Actually, I was told that Arcee woke before everyone else."

"It's good to hear she survived."

"Arcee?" Galvatron solemnly nodded. "What happened to her?"

"Psychic possession. One of the psychics-"

"Ohmigod!" Rusti exclaimed. "I remember that now! Her name was Wolfen Tagmar. A little unbalanced and she was kind of mean. I don't know if she meant to be mean or not. We got into an argument. But I don't remember what it was about."

Galvatron leaned over, arms supported by his legs. "How much do you remember?"

"More than I want to. I never want to see another Quintesson for as long as I live."

"Get in line," Galvatron agreed. "Unfortunately, we'll have to see them again if we're to retake Earth."

Rusti's face fell to sadness. "Galvatron, I'm so sorry about Cybertron. I know I didn't say anything at the time-"

"Who had time? No one thinks about things like that when the clock is set against you, Rusti. Besides, Cybertron died a long time ago."

"But it was your home."

The Decepticon smiled ruefully. "Home is with the people you care about. Four walls and a rooftop can be found anywhere."

Rusti nodded. "I don't suppose you'd consider Earth your new home. But where would you go?"

Galvatron bobbed his head to the right. "No telling. At this point, my road lies with you, Rodimus and Prime."

"Will you be taking the Terrorcons with you?"

"Terrorcons?"

***

Rodimus played tic-tac-toe on his digipad while he half-listened to Titanium's weapons report. He was already aware of their stock piles of isotrype, the number of torpedoes, of grenades and rocket launchers... blah, blah, blah. Once Titanium completed his report, Rodimus sat up and tried to meet everyone in the optic. But he made it no further than convoy. He gently pushed his digipad side-to-side while he wore the same frown he pasted on earlier that day.

"Thanks for the detailed intel, Tite. Did you get that report on shields?"

"Not yet, Rodimus. They're still trying to figure out how the Trench Driver created its own new shields."

"Fine." Rodimus again met convoy's gaze and read the concern in her optics. "So! I've heard we have communication with Earth in for-real time. can someone explain that?" Again, he mostly listened in as Ambient and Blaster explained the tech before convoy laid out the events following the connection.

"The great thing, Rodimus," she continued, "is they think it might be possible to travel on this same communication line, straight to Earth." Her news brought on smiles that brightened the room.

Rodimus stopped playing with the digipad and stared at her. "Eh?"

convoy pointed to Wheeljack for explanation. The AU Wheeljack stood, datatablet in hand. "Well, after a long conversation with Nimbus from the Underground, he and I came up with a plan that could take us straight back to Earth. No mid-flight stops, no railroad crossings. The hitch is that the beam is nothing more than a traceable light frequency emitted by a quasar. It's temporary not because it's fragile, but because the frequency shifts. That being said, we thought we could 'ignite' a wormhole on that particular frequency and run the ships through. But the frequency is open only for a maximum of fifty minutes or less. So only one ship can through at a time. The other risk is that anything goes wrong en transit, so much as three millimeters off course could cause the shop to slip off the beam and land on another planet, get lost in space, or worse, end up in an alternate dimension. But the possibility is there and Nimbus and I are..." Wheeljack shrugged and dipped his head side to side while his processor computed. "... about eighty-six percent certain it'll work."

Rodimus sat straight and glued his optics to the Autobot of whom he only heard about. "Push that to ninety, Wheeljack and then we'll discuss it. But I have to let everyone here know that we can't just hit the turbo button and head home." Rodimus raised his right hand when the room of senior officers cried out, choked on and gasped at his announcement. "I-I know it sux," he declared above their protests. "I know all we wanna do it head back. But the fact of the matter is, we came out this way, out to Yolthanis Three with the intention of regrouping with allies. Other than Galvatron and cyclonus, we really have not accumulated enough bosom buddies to help us kick the Five-Faced Freaks off Earth. We need more an advantage and greater firepower than what we have. And then there's the Matrix."

coral looked confused. "Rodimus, I thought that since the Virus was eradicated, the Matrix would be okay. I mean, you're okay. At least, you look okay to me."

Rodimus gave her one of his nefarious shit-eating grins. "You're so kind to me, coral, thank you!" he looked to convoy. "You hear that? I look okay!" He smiled again when she glared at him like a mother who knew when the child was lying. "The thing of it is, coral, Sweets," Roddi continued, "The Virus was never destroyed. It's contained. Not the same thing. Seriously. We don't know how to destroy it. And even though the irritating, four-legged critter isn't infecting anybody or anything anymore, the Matrix is still damaged and needs to be repaired."

coral shrugged. "can't we repair it? Or maybe find out where it came from and take it back for repairs?"

Elbow on table, Rodimus supported his chin on hand and started at her, baffled by the femme's naivety. "Jazz," he said after a few seconds, "would you help me out here?"

convoy snapped her gaze from Rodimus to Jazz and back. Surprise took the room when Jazz produced the damaged Matrix from his chest. Titanium stood from his chair. Grotesque gapped and coral gasped and covered her mouth. The Matrix sat on the table. Its burnt, misshaped shell fell apart and out tumbled a blackened crystal. The Matrix looked dead save for the faintest blue light pulsing deep within its core. A shard fell off and cloudstreaker reached to save it. But Jazz intervened.

"Don't worry, Missy. It's been doin' that."

Rodimus waited for everyone to settle down before he spoke again. He planted both elbows on the table and rested his chin against loose fists. "I'm guessing you can see why we can't just pack bags and head home. No Matrix, no life. No life, no more Autobots. And we have-" he sneaked a furtive glance at convoy. "we have more Autobots in mind. But we can't do anything until we can fix this. Op told me there's a place he thinks can restore it. I don't know-I don't know anything about it. Mechlatex, or something. Either way, neither Optimus nor I can carry the Matrix." Rodimus sat straighter and lapped one arm over the other. "This is our priority, boys and girls."

Springer cut in this time. "But what about Earth? What about the Underground? What if we don't make it in time to help them?"

Rodimus dragged his optics to the right. "What's the date on Earth, convoy?"

"Twenty forty-four."

"So, Dezi and her friends have held up for six years all by themselves?" convoy nodded and Roddi's question led to another: "How long were we on Bare Anches?"

****

Galvatron laid on his tummy, overlooking the sloping ravine that trailed into the mountain valley. He watched with unmasked glee while the four Terrorcons froliked and played like a puddle of puppies. The Decepticon grinned as he strained to control his excitement. "So tell me, Mizz Rusti, how long have they been here?"

Rusti nibbled on a sandwich and shook her head. "I didn't ask."

"Well, from the looks of things, it's clear the Terrorcons have gone feral."

"can that really happen? I mean, how does that work? I've never seen or heard of an Autobot go feral."

"Terrorcons aren't Autobots," Galvatron returned lightly. "Think of them as horses or dogs or something. Wouldn't you agree, Optimus?"

Rusti squealed joyously. She dropped her sandwich and glued herself to his leg like a symbiont to its host. "OHMIGOD!" she squeaked. "You're awake! I'm so glad to see you! I'll never let you out of my sight ever again! You're stuck with me, now..."

Galvatron stood as Rusti yammered on. "We seemed to have acquired critters along our route, Prime. How they crossed our path, I can't say."

"How long have they been here?"

"Don't know. Neither does your Little Lady there."

Both mechs looked down as Rusti continued her soliloquy: "...and I'm going to take you someplace and give you the best bath EVER! And everyone else didn't think you'd make it..."

Galvatron smiled wryly. "Have you talked with convoy, yet? She's been in charge from the get-go."

"No," Optimus replied.

Rusti: "... but you're here and I was right and my god, but I missed you! I just can't love you enough..."

Prime looked back to his friend. "Seems I have other business to attend to, first."

"Hmm." Galvatron nodded once, his smile spread wider. He watched, amused as Optimus cupped his hand about the girl and lifted her from the ground. She hugged his thumb.

"Well, we have PUPPIES!" Galvatron held his arms out as if to frame the Terrorcons.

"No, Galvatron," Prime returned dryly. "Those are not puppies. They are Terrorcons. They are not playmates. They will not be happy to see you. Even if you were to feed them happy things, they'd bite your head off and spit it out. Hey! Where are you going?"

Galvatron slid down the ravine before floating in the air. His grin registered a solid ten. "I'm going to go play with puppies!"

"Oh, Primus," Optimus moaned. "Hey!" he called. Galvatron turned around in mid-flight. "If you end up losing all four limbs I'll be sure to have Perceptor reprogram them to slap you around for the next two weeks!" He waited for Galvatron to fly out of ear-shot then smiled at the young lady in his hand. "Hello, Little Bell," he said softly.

************

Optimus awoke earlier that day to sweet soft sunlight and the gentle warbling of a nearby bird. Trees sighed in the wind and distant laughter echoed clear and free. How often had he taken the sounds of life for granted?

He paused that thought to scan his surroundings. He lay on a flat that conformed to his body. The room, perfectly pressurized, held him in a gentle quiet. He sensed not a fragment of darkness. Prime sat up and felt no ill effects. Sleepiness hugged the corners of his mind. But it was the sleepiness of first-awakening, not the exhausted, tired-to-the-structural rod. He slid around, feet over the edge. His mind ran in several directions; questions and answers in need of questions.

The Autobot leader turned his sensors inward and ran self-diagnostics for damage. Surprised, Optimus ran them twice over to be sure.

No damage. Repairs made but those reports came to him without a time stamp. Where was he? who repaired him so sufficiently? He felt good. For the first time in a long, long time his body registered no pain, no fatigue, nothing distressed or weak. At the tiniest corner of his consciousness, Optimus dared to search for the Virus. But nothing of any relative significance indicated infection.

Optimus laid a hand on his chest. There was something in there, a physical spherical mechanism buried deep within him. "I wonder..." He said to himself.

The tapping of footsteps preceded the entrance of a humanoid female standing about as tall as Blaster. She welcomed the Autobot leader with a generous smile. She plucked a clip-tablet off the wall and approached him. Her silky white-green coat hinted her profession as medical assistant, but that was as far as Optimus noted. Her rose-pink skin glowed flawlessly in the sunlight as she passed under the sunroof toward him.

"Hello, Optimus Prime!" she said cheerfully-and in Autobot. "You've had quite a nap. How do you feel?"

He hesitated, struggling to decide if her eyes were grey or lavender. "I feel well enough not to need more rest. And there is no pain."

She smiled ever broadly and scratched the board with long fingernails. "Dr. Gates will be delighted to hear that. We've done everything conceivable to make you and your people comfortable."

"Gates? As in Paul?"

"Yes. We've waited for you. Of course... with your luck, a few things did not turn out the way you planned. But at least they turned out."

Optimus recalled cratis. "Tell me about it," he muttered. "Is Rodimus okay? Is Rusti all right?"

"Rodimus is up and about. But he's suffering PTSD, we think. As for Russssti...." the alien lady consulted her chart, shook her head, paged through it further and shook her head again. "There doesn't seem to be an Autobot named-"

"She's not Autobot; she's Human."

"Oh! Well..." Against silence descended while the nurse renewed her search. "oh! Witwicky?"

"Yes! Is she all right? Was she ill? Where can I find her?" He stood, ready to transform and crash through the wall.

"Hold on, hold on!" the nurse kept her voice cheerful but her body language meant it as an order. "We need to run a few tests on you, first. You time-jumped through an unknown anomaly and we might need to-"

"Not until I see my wife."

She flinched as if someone hit her. "Oh. Well... if you're feeling okay. You're not dizzy, are you? How is your equilibrium? Do you feel unstable-"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I am not dizzy. My balance is good. I do not feel any ill-effects." He paused a breath: "I really need to see her."

Eight minutes later, found her he did.

Perched on his left shoulder, Rusti informed him of events over the last few weeks. Both knew this was not the time for sad and dark tales. Details regarding Bare Anches were laid to wait for another time. With Galvatron wrestling happily with his new pets, Prime and Rusti departed the area and headed back to med bay.

"Where to first?" she asked.

"Grimlock," the Autobot leader answered quietly. "I need to see how he's doing."

Wheeljack and Optimus met each other more like distant acquaintances rather than old friends. Rusti supposed the awkward reunion was due in part that Wheeljack was not Optimus' Wheeljack and vise-versa. Still, Wheeljack knew his way around the Dinobots and that was good enough for Prime.

"We really wanted to and build Grimlock from the ground up. Problem is, his life force frequencies are incompatible with this space-time whereabouts. Thing of it is, I'm not even sure how much time he's got left. I mean... 'parrently the big guy's been cooped up for quite a while. Don't know how that's affecting-"

"Grimlock want to live," Optimus assured him. "He wants a rematch with whatever did this to him. I know he'll wait as long as it takes."

Apogee peered round the stasis capsule. "How do you know that, sir?"

"It's an Optimus-thing. Have the other Dinobots visited him?"

"Everyday," Wheeljack added a smile. "Apogee here says they pester their dino-sitter to read to Grimlock. Don't know how much good that does-"

"More than you probably know, Wheeljack," Optimus returned swiftly. "Now, tell me about Smasher."

Optimus and Rusti listened carefully as Wheeljack told them what he knew of the 'Snarl Incident' before Apogee filled in areas of events prior to their discovery of their new Autobot scientist. Optimus soaked everything in and stashed the information away like a student craving for more and more knowledge. Once the tale ended, Prime gave Wheeljack all his attention.

"I should very much like to know your entire story, Wheeljack. How did you end up on Bare Anches? What happened to it? Why was it-"

Wheeljack waved his hand side-to-side and shook his head. "Later, Optimus. I still have to get back to the Mozart and help Blaster and Ambient realign the communications board. Now that we have a way to get back to Earth-"

"What?" Prime looked to Rusti but she shrugged.

"First I've heard of it. All I know is that we found a way to communicate with Dezi."

"And does Rodimus know this?"

Wheeljack nodded. "What we gotta do now is realign all the ships' comm frequencies to match the frequency the Hannibal's Mark-"

"The Draco Mercadies," Rusti corrected. The Autobots looked to her and she shrugged. "She wants to be called that because 'Hannibal' is carthaginian and she's German. She told me all about it."

Wheeljack stopped dead and stared. "Who told you that?"

"The ship."

"What?"

Optimus held up a hand and quietly laughed. "Later, later!" he said to the inventor. "I think we'll go have that chat with Roddi after all. Thank you, Wheeljack. Keep me informed.

"Always." The Autobot turned away, clearly confused. Rusti and Optimus left him as he muttered Draco Mercadies with bewilderment.

****

Sunset arrived and departed before Optimus and Rusti stepped outside. Rather than spending time in another meeting, Optimus decided to join his love for dinner outside under the final-phase moonlight. They said nothing for thirty minutes while the candlelight flickered against the occasional breeze. Rusti ate her soup slowly. Her eyes traced every angle and surface of his body. He looked so much better! All the grey that washed his color faded off so that the red blushed richly, the blue mirrored their world and his optics retained the stability of health. Optimus projected contentment rather than sucking life and joy from the very air around him. This was the Optimus she knew lay under all that sadness for so many years. This was the Optimus who loved beauty and discovery; the same Optimus who worked hard for his people out of love rather than a sense of duty.

She hesitated before spooning her soup. "You're beautiful," she whispered.

"Are you certain you want to come with me to visit convoy and Rodimus, Rusti?" he asked later. "We may be up all night and late into the next day."

"I am not letting you out of my sight," she returned quietly but firmly. "I haven't been with you since..." she stopped to remember back, back before Delta. (because that moment didn't really count). Rusti lifted her eyes. "Since we found you lost on the science station."

"I was lost?"

Elbows on table, Rusti rested her chin on her overlapped hands. "Yeeeah," she drawled quietly. He had been lost in more ways than one. And in spite of the painful memory, Rusti took comfort that he was here now, alive and better. Taking in his entire physic from audio receptor to foretoe; from well-formed figure to gentle optics, Rusti considered him precious.

convoy was in the middle of a bath when Optimus and Rusti boarded the Razor Lady. Razor greeted her with a yawn and a luxurious stretch.

SHE'S BEEN IN THERE FOR TWENTY MINUTES. I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO TOOK HER TIME

"You flatter yourself." Rusti returned.

"What's that, Sweetheart?" Optimus asked quietly.

"Nothing. Just the cat acting like an over-privileged feline."

"What cat?" Optimus did not get his answer. convoy emerged from her private quarters, still buffing her upper arms.

"Won't you come in?" She led them into her chamber and naturally Razor followed. The doors hissed closed and the captain aimed for the left wall. "you look good, Prime. Better than I've seen you in years."

"I feel better."

"care for a little liquid spice?"

"only if you insist."

convoy grinned. "How about a mantle of leadership?"

"Heh. You've done very well, convoy. You'd make a good Prime."

The femme spun about, colorful bottle in hand. "Over my dead, rusted and crumpled carcass, Optimus. Frankly, I don't know how you and Roddi do it year after year. Not just in dealing with Autobots, but politics and public relations, idiots, perverts and rebels." She poured him a glass of glowing liquid and he lifted the glass.

"Let me guess: Daniel."

"Mm. That's one."

Optimus' optics narrowed. "Don't tell me."

"Yup. Strike Back is tucked away in a cell. Magnus put him there initially. I tried to give him a chance. But... you can't change corrupted basic programming."

"I'm sorry you've had to deal with it, convoy."

The lady captain softly laughed. "It's my job, Optimus, right? Someone had to take it. Arcee and I woke first. So I handled it."

Optimus nodded and sipped his drink. He held it between his hands when he sat forward. "Now tell me, what's this about communication with Earth? Wheeljack said something about a way back."

convoy drained her glass and set it on the table. She too sat forward, leaned over, elbows on knees, hands clasped together. "Once upon a time there lived a planet in a far away solar system where a group of rebels lived underground while their homeworld struggled under the tyranny of evil gods from outer space." Optimus grinned but she did not stop to share his smile. "One day a brilliant young alien-type fellow sent out a signal to an ally in the outer reaches of the galaxy. Little did he know that his signal was caught by a quasar and transmitted through subspace three hundred years into the past where it was picked up by an Autobot ship named the Hannibal's Mark."

Rusti ignored Razor's scoff at the old name. She realized how much she liked convoy.

"A quasar," Optimus repeated thoughtfully.

"Yup. Nimbus, our contact, knows how to ride comm frequencies along light spectrums rather than conventional subspace. He tells us the Quintessons know nothing about the technology."

"Wheeljack said something about traveling on this frequency. I haven't hear of anything like that before."

convoy huffed and took to her feet. She rounded her chair then laid hands on its back. "I don't pretend to know all the details, Optimus. You know me; I have people who do that sort of thing. But yes. Apparently, it's possible. However, Rodimus said the Matrix-"

"Right," Optimus nodded. "We cannot return to Earth before repairing the Matrix."

convoy stared at the chair. "Well, that'll be a doozey for our boys at the math board. If we're not going to attempt to get to Earth by their suggestion, then how on cybertron will we return to our own time and find a course for Mechlatex?"

Prime held his silence briefly before he leaned forward and set his glass on the table. "Fortunately, that's not something either you or I will have to work on. My more immediate concerns are Rodimus, Strike Back and the Deiselbots."

convoy lifted her optics, puzzled. "Is that the main reason for repairing the Matrix, Prime? cybertron is gone. Are you sure the Matrix can still instill life?"

"It is the source of our sapience, convoy. How do you think the Dinobots came to life? Or Blaster? Or Perceptor? Vector Sigma might have been responsible for our artificial intelligence at the start. The Quintessons designed the forms and bodies of our ancestors. But it was the Matrix that gave us life."

Optimus kept his uncertainty to himself. Prime was neither shocked nor surprised to learn of cybertron's demise. It saddened him, as one might be of a town he once lived in, destroyed by natural disaster. At this point, Optimus put nothing past the Quintessons. Their thirst for vengeance and unquenchable greed drove them to extremes not to be miscalculated or underestimated. At least cybertron's destruction meant he did not have to impart the secret of Vector Sigma's death.

Politely taking leave of the Razor Lady and convoy, who took six hours off to sleep, Optimus returned to the banks at the edge of the Glass Trench-so named since the blackened ground upon which the ships landed, melted into two feet of silicon-glass.

"It's late," he said to Rusti. "I thought I'd let you decide whether you want to come see Rodimus with me, or get some sleep."

Rusti stood on the grass, her tiny hand on his. The usual nightly breeze cast strands of hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear, eyes downcast. She looked up, searching his features. "I wish I had something clever to say," Rusti said softly. "I don't know Shakespeare and I know nothing of poetry."

"I would rather," Optimus countered, "that you spoke using your own words rather than the words of a pen held by someone else's hand."

Rusti grimaced and batted her eyes. "I missed you. There's no one I talk to, no one I sit with that replaces you. I miss you at night and when I wake up. I miss your voice. But I am sleepy and I doubt it'd be comfortable for either of us for you to carry me from that ship to that location. So, I'm going to bed, expecting you to be there tomorrow."

He did not miss a beat: "I am here tonight. I will be there tomorrow. And I will be there tomorrow after that. Go to sleep and keep that in mind."

Poetry in the clumsiest sense, she thought. Rusti laid her lips on his hand and let them linger before turning away and leaving him to his duty.

*****

Optimus found Rodimus, Jazz, Silverbolt and Titanium locked in a game of pool when he found the Gabriel Genesis. Rodimus took his turn, cornered a stripped yellow and smoothly aimed for a green.

"You're too late, Prime," Roddi mumbled. "You'll have to wait."

"You're about to miss that shot, Rodimus," Optimus returned deadpan.

"pfffp. Yeah, right." Rodimus' score was not that high, but his confidence told him the 'M-configuration' shot was an easy one. He snapped the white ball so that it smacked the far side, angled forty degrees to his side then slowed to a straight line back. Rodimus stared at the stupid ball, willing it to keep moving. It mocked him in silence as hard as Jazz laughed. Rodimus glared at Optimus who shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose you can make the shot," Roddi dared.

All optics turned to the senior Prime. "To be honest, I don't think I could do it, either."

Jazz pushed himself off the wall. "Nope. You don't git t' get away with that one, Op. You called it, you play it."

"And if I lose?"

Jazz grinned. "Duty roster. Two weeks, all nineteen."

"WHAT?" Optimus snapped a glare at Rodimus who sniggered at the bet. He grabbed Roddi's stick. "Fine. But if I make the shot, Jazz, you're getting 'Daniel Duty'... for a month."

"Ooooo!" Rodimus, Titanium and Silverbolt chorused.

Silverbolt shook his head. "Better hope Optimus misses, Jazz. Daniel's been worse than ever."

Optimus softly berated himself for sticking his bumper into places it didn't belong. He scanned the table for the best shot. The game of Letter-configurations was a fave among the Autobots; more notably Hotspot, Groove, Tracks and Jazz. clearly out of his league, Optimus struggled to recall what Groove once told him in an off-handed conversation.

He was doomed.

Never the less, Optimus chose to attempt it. He found a reasonably simple M-pattern across the table that promised to take out six balls. He leaned for the shot then hesitated. "Are you counting solids and stripes?"

Silverbolt strangled his laugh. "Oh, now he asks!"

Jazz lapped his stick across his shoulders, one hand hung from each end. "We'll go easy on you, Op. After all, you just woke up."

"Thanks," Optimus mumbled. He leaned over again, calculated distance and speed for the amount of momentum needed.

SMAcK!

The solid white grazed the edge of a blue then a striped orange. It smacked the farside rim, whacked three balls for the left side central pocket. The cue ball returned to Optimus' side, shot back up, hit a solid yellow then a solid red. It started on the come-back to finish them 'M' and died half way down.

"Awwww!!" everyone in the room chorused.

"Alrighty!" Rodimus cheered. "Duty roster for Optimus! You get to do mine first!"

"Hey, no way, man!" Jazz argued. "I made the bet. He's doing mine first!"

After firmly establishing he would deal with the rosters in the morning, Optimus stole Rodimus from the game and the other Autobots. Rodimus reluctantly shadowed him two miles south-west. They followed a narrow dirt trail on foot until they reached the lagoon.

"Was the hike really necessary, Optimus?" Roddi asked as they stood at the dock.

Optimus sat with his feet dangling in the waves. "I like water," he returned casually. "It makes me feel more comfortable."

Rodimus withheld a huff but frowned. "Okay," he surrendered. He sat cross-legged and traded his visual attention between Optimus and the dark silent horizon. "So, I'm guessing this is where you and me crack open our chest plates, spill everything in our heads and express our feelings. So that being said, you go first."

"I don't want to spill anything," Optimus returned in similar tones. "I think it's a nice night. I haven't talked with you -just you- in a while and I don't want to do it in an office or on a bridge."

"Mm." Rodimus nodded, not so sure if Optimus was just using the moment as a ploy. "So, where do you want to go from here?"

"Nowhere. Not tonight."

Rodimus released his huff. "So... that's it? You just want to sit here in the middle of the night and do nothing?"

"I am doing something, Rodimus," a smile rang in Prime's voice. "I am sitting here, taking in the world, the air and the voice of a friend." He paused, glancing at Roddi. He looked away again. "But if you feel uncomfortable-"

"Oh sure. Hit me with the guilt of abandonment. Really, Prime, I'm just not into feeling sentimental right now."

Optimus answered as if Rodimus said nothing at all: "A long time ago I was imprisoned in one of Shockwave's concentration camps. All around me I witnessed the many ways people died horribly. Shockwave played psychological games with me; cruel games that often ended with someone else dying because I said something wrong or made a wrong choice. He... locked up my memories so that each session he forced me through was like the first time. He locked up my memories to the point that I even forgot who I was, my name, how I ended up there.'

'Then a miracle happened; a meteor storm assaulted the camp. Buildings collapsed. Soldiers and guards died, prisoners escaped. Among them were a group of scientists who chose to take me with them. I still don't know why they singled me out among hundreds of other prisoners, except one lady knew who and what I was.'

'We escaped the complex and shortly after, crashed on an unknown planet. I was the only one to survive. But my head was empty and everything on board the shuttle was designed for Decepticons. I was alone for a very long time. During that time, I found comfort by sitting at the bottom of a nearby pond. I just sat there and did nothing. I suppose it was my way of sorting through all the things I survived.'

'What I'm trying to say, Rodimus, is that it takes time to unravel. And neither you nor I have had much time in the last few decades. So, at the moment, I just want to sit and be."

A diode lit in Rodimus' head and he realized that Optimus just wanted to spend a moment with him. Instead of he begging Optimus to spend a moment or two with him, Optimus came to him. Roddi's self-indulged annoyance melted away and he smiled. "I never realized how crappy a player you are at pool."

"Heh. Not one of my gifted areas, Roddi."

"Still, it wasn't bad. I'm pretty sure Jazz had the thing rigged somehow. I don't think he would have done it had I not played."

"I'd not put it past him," Optimus returned.

They turned quiet and listened to a nearby tree frog croak to the world with all its capacity. A tiny splash whittled the water not far from the dock. The soft flapping of a night bird fluttered overhead. Rodimus rubbed the wooden deck with his finger.

"You seem to be feeling better, Op," he said softly.

Optimus laid on his back, hands laced under his head. He stared straight up. "I feel good, Roddi," he answered in a near-whisper. "Like someone lifted a large building off my chest. Everything I see looks vibrant and sharp. I feel everything around me again, as if I had been numb for years and years." Prime looked to his friend and Rodimus read the smile in his optics. "Someone saved us, Roddi. Or, perhaps a miracle happened. Even here in the dark, I can sense light; I can sense life."I

"I don't think it was necessarily a miracle, Op. We survived. Survival is the sum total of guts, wisdom and flexibility. We survived because we have good people like Magnus and Jazz." Rodimus paused a moment again. "And yeah, okay, I'll admit it: even Galvatron."

Optimus sent his gaze upward again, searching for familiar constellations. "I can't tell you how relieved I am that you and Galvatron are getting along, Roddi."

"Hey!" Rodimus snapped. "Don't get any fresh ideas, Prime! Just because I'm allowing Galvatron and cyclonus to play musical chairs with us, doesn't mean I'm making any wedding plans. I'll not be making reservations for any other Decepticon."

Optimus rolled to his side and supported his head by the triangle bent of his arm. "I didn't exactly pop wheelies around them, either, Roddi. Especially at first. It's that I became too sick to fight them. Otherwise, I'd still be on Mars." His face saddened and the Autobot leader rolled back, optics once again raised toward the heavens. "I have much to account for, Roddi. Should have been more prepared."

"Shut up." Rodimus berated. "We were prepared! The Quints might have gotten a drop on us, but Optimus, we were smart enough to make sure there was a contingency plan. The ships that we spent years planning and building..." Rodimus shook his head with a smile. "Yeah, I know things didn't turn out like you hoped. We didn't get the force field up. Max was still under reconstruction. Zenith wasn't even half way completed. But we had enough foresight to make sure the ships were finished." He paused half a moment, "Heh, and people thought all you and I did was sign our names on assignments, push people around and pay bills."

Both Primes laughed quietly.

"Well," Optimus back-tracked, "there was my garden."

"Yeah," Rodimus drawled, "you and your plants. Now I'm wondering if I were to cut your fingers off and plant them, would I grow several little Optimi?"

"Naturally!" Optimus sang, "All of them ornery, loud, frustrating little buggers that will do anything to get under Magnus' feet."

"Ohhh! No children for you, Op!"

"Heh, I have Autobots, don't need children." He again looked to Rodimus. "I have you. Don't need anymore me's."

Rodimus let the quiet flow between them before adding: "I'd love for you to have children."

Two breaths later Optimus softly replied: "Me too."

*******

They clipped her wings so as to keep her captive. She fluttered uselessly in the cage. Out! Out! But no one heard her little voice. "Don't make me sad!" she begged.

There was a hand with a face for each finger; faces with dark and horrible expressions. Mean. No, wait. They had names. Yes, names: War, Hate, Deceit, Greed and Death. They held her tightly so that the breath left her. They carried her to the open window and dangled her over a black hole.

"No!" she screamed. "No, don't! No, don't!"

She plummeted through the air, down, down, down. Darkness swallowed her and slapped her fa-

Rusti screamed and bounced off her pillow. She yanked her body out from the blankets and screamed until Monique grabbed her wrists.

"RUSTI!

She stopped breathing, eyes wide as dinner plates. She stared until her brain registered the woman in front of her. One breath. Another. Rusti batted her eyes and her frozen body gradually relaxed.

They gave her no choice. Two nurses promptly escorted Rusti straight to Chy-Chaunam's study and locked the door behind them. Rusti stared from her place at the door. large windows framed the garden outside. Heavy curtains hung at their edges. The spacious study boasted of rich colors, deep, comfortable browns and giant bookcases bearing large heavy books; some of which were Transformer-size.

The platnum-blonde psychic extracted herself from the large wooden desk and stood beside it, hands clasped in front. "Denying there is a problem does not solve the problem, Rusti. Neither does ignoring it."

"Who says I'm denying or ignoring it?"

"Your actions, Rusti."

"It's my own business. What I do with my problems is no one else's."

"Hm." Chy-Chaunam rounded the desk and leaned against the front, arms crossed. "You are, no doubt, a loner. I suspect you've always had very few friends. You are a member of two different societies but feel you belong to neither of them."

"So what you're telling me is that I"m a freaking alien. Thank you. I already knew that."

Chy-Chaunam nodded and turned to a small cabinet upon which something of a coffee maker sat. "You might as well make yourself comfortable, Rusti. I doubt they'll let you out until we've made some progress. Would you like some tea."

"No. I don't plan staying here that long. I don't need a shrink to tell me I have nightmares and that I need to analyze them."

The psychic poured hot water into a cup and drowned a teabag into the steaming liquid. She added three heaping teaspoons of sugar and stirred. "You have a huge time frame missing from your life." She looked to the young lady, her hair slipped off her shoulder. "Little over a year, isn't it?"

White water rushed up. She fell into it.

Rusti resolutely shook her head. She sensed pain somewhere in that memory and shied from it. "Whatever happened, obviously happened in the past. It needs to stay there."

"It is a wound, Rusti. Wounds get infected if not treated. Whatever is trapped in your mind will continue to haunt you until you call it up and claim it." Rusti's stoney expression told the psychic her words carried little weight. "Just because you suffer does not mean no one else will suffer. Your nightmares keep your roommates up at night. You've already been kicked out of one room. How much longer will it be before they put you in the Ward?" She waited for the warning to sink in. "Hm? Because frankly, Rusti, that is where you are headed. You have been through so much horror and so much trauma that now you are here, safe, comfortable and in good hands, your subconscious finds it possible to deal with it all. You have to deal with it or it will continue to disrupt your life."

Rusti's nose ticked and stung with the onset of tears. She swallowed hard to keep from breaking into a weepy pile of wordy nonsense. "I don't want to deal with it," she admitted very softly. "I want it to go away. I want all of it to go away."

"The one memory you had while sitting on the swing with me caused you to pass out. Believe me, hon, it won't be the first and only time. You'll continue to get flashes. You' eventually grasp more and more images that will make little to no sense and possibly drive you straight into a sanitarium. We could either try to talk your way into digging into those memories or... I could put you under hypnosis. The choice is yours."

"can I think on it?"

"you have to decide today, Rusti. The medical staff will not allow further nighttime disruptions. So, make your decision."

Rusti thought how nice it would be for Optimus to be with her. But frankly, the situation was her problem. Optimus and Roddi had enough to do; they should not be expected to hold her hands. She took a deep breath. "I'm guessing hypnosis would be easier than trying to talk it out."

Chy-Chaunam nodded with a pleased smile. "You won't be alone in this, Rusti. You are welcome to bring a friend to sit with us, if you'd like."

Rusti hugged herself and dropped her gaze. "I don't really have friends."

"Is that so? Seems to me you've gotten along just fine with Arcee and Monique. I'm sure they consider you their friend." Rusti mutely nodded in agreement. Chy-Chaunam allowed herself a silent sigh of relief. "Ten o'clock tomorrow morning then," she ordered. "Don't be late."

********

"Unnmph" (n) A sound one Ultra Magnus makes when waking with a headache from the bottom of the Pitt.

Right effing now, every single bird needs to serenade and fornicate somewhere... over there; wherever there might be. Woe to the person who shoved a plasma bomb in Magnus' brain and blew it into a liquified state. The Major-general thought for damn sure every micro-circuit slowly leaked its way out the crevices of his metal plating.

Wait a minute. Did someone say something about birds? As in chittering, singing, sqawking birds? Magnus activated his optics and covered them with one large hand. He groaned again. The only part that did not hurt was the far outside corner of his left heel.

Someone spoke but not in Autobot. A reassuring, masculine voice sounded distant and watery to the Autobot commander.

"Nnngh," Even Magnus didn't know what he meant. No, scratch that. He could use something with high octane spritzed with concentrated alcohol. Someone clipped something in Magnus' temporal nodes. His auditory sensors kicked back into place and he found his voice, though it sounded like he masticated glass shards. "What the smelting hell hit me?"

"congratulations, everyone! Ultra Magnus is online!"

The applause that followed grated his sensors like coarse sandpaper. Magnus winced and waved his heavy hand. Someone thoughtfully ordered the lights to dim. Magnus rolled his head to the right and greeted Wheeljack who stood with a clownish grin, looking far too happy.

"Mmmgn." Magnus glared.

Wheeljack shrugged. "Sorry Magnus. A partition fell on top of you and part of you sank into the flooring that liquified. Although, I don't know why Galvatron didn't meld with the flooring under him. But that's not important. The good thing is, we've managed to reconstruct your lower half. you could use a new paint job, however."

"What?"

Perigee's voice drifted from another part of the room: "Don't worry about it, Big Boy. You'll feel better in another day or two."

"That's right!" Wheeljack happily concurred. The important thing is that you made it and we landed on Yolthanis Three. So... lie back and zone out. Want some TV? They have it here, you know."

Magnus' body lay on the flat like a giant slab of dead meat. And while his sensors improved after Wheeljack's puttering, some circuit in his head still functioned like an unstable communication during a plasma storm. "Status," he slurred.

"Uh-uh. You zone out first. Status update later. Besides, Op and Roddi are up and about. And they're doing really well."

The Primes were up? Already? And they were okay? How come they were okay already? What about everyone else? Wait. Yolthanis Three, right? So they landed as planned and the Primes were loose and that meant Magnus actually could zone out. He lolled his head straight and shut his optics off.

Magnus woke later to little voices:

"The pink! The pink one goes there!"

"I don't think he wants pink."

"He's an Autobot, he won't care what the color is."

"Shhh! Don't speak so loudly!"

"Sorry," two voices chorused.

There were, naturally, other voices in the room. For a moment, however, Magnus swore he heard Rodimus' voice. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. He did feel better. Sleeping more did him a universe of good and it felt nice not being in charge and listening to everyone talk at him all at once-emergency or not.

No more emergencies, he thought. The next second, Magnus pushed himself up. His equilibrium took a spin so he froze and shut off his optics to give his head time to realign itself. When he fully activated his optics, he found himself in large room with windows lining the upper walls. Pink, blue and green ribbons swagged the walls in upside-down rainbows. Large bows punctuated the curves. Large hand-drawn pictures punctuated each decoration; large, small, some of them photographs.

WELCOME BACK, ULTRA MAGNUS!

HAPPY UN-BIRTHDAY, ULTRA MAGNUS!

GLAD YOU'RE OKAY, ULTRA MAGNUS!

GET WELL SOON, ULTRA MAGNUS!

And then one very large photograph of Rodimus posing like some seductive human female lying on the side, supported by one elbow. He held aloft a glass of spiked energon and the stupidest smile Magnus recalled seeing since... 2007.

"What the hell..." Magnus moved and something moved with him. Upon closer scrutiny, Magnus found a light net covering him chest-to-foretoe. It draped off the flat and cascaded across the room in an ocean of material. More photographs, flowers, toys, drawings and an array of whoopie cushions blotted the net... the entire net... across the entire room. Magnus lifted his hands and part of the net lifted with them. "what the hell is this?"

"SURPRISE!" A crowd of children and Rodimus jumped from behind a curtain. Seven boys produced kazoos and played some unholy tune while everyone else-and Rodimus sang:

Happy new day to you!

Thanks for all that you do!

Kick your feet up and be merry,

And know we love you!

They sang it a second time. And a third. And a fourth before Magnus took to his feet. Static cling made removing the webbing difficult. "Thank you," Magnus declared. "This is... ah... unprecedented." He shot Rodimus an "I-know-what-you-did" glare and made sure it was quick so the children didn't see it. "So," Magnus added, "uh, all this is for me, huh?"

A girl somewhere under the age of 9 gripped her dress and grinned at the Major-general. "Optimus said you'd love to hear us sing. And Rodimus said we could shower you with love. So we drew pictures and took pictures and prettied up your room."

"I see that," Magnus pushed a smile on his face. What he really saw were the numerous whoopie cushions lying all over the place so that no matter where he stepped, his feet were sure to land on more than one. "So... ah... anyone want to help me pick up the place so that-"

The kazoos started up again and the singing followed:

Magnus had a little Prime,

little Prime, little Prime!

Magnus had a little Prime

Who left him all alone.

Every day that Magnus worked,

Magnus worked, Magnus worked

Every day that Magnus worked,

He worked right to the bone.

Any-time that Magnus flipped,

Magnus flipped, Magnus flipped,

Any-time that Magnus flipped,

The Primes made him a clone.

Magnus sent a steady gaze at Rodimus and contacted him on an internal comline. "Let me guess: you wrote the song."

Rodimus grinned. "Nope. Op did. He thought it'd be a nice welcome-back thingy."

Magnus cut the comline and spoke out loud: "Isn't that nice?" He said it to the kids but meant it for the Primes-sarcastically, of course. Roddi gave him another cheesy grin.

"All-righty, little ones!" Roddi proclaimed, "Uncle Magnus needs to get something accomplished. Hugs, loves and kisses! Everybody out!" His announcement was met with verbal disappointment. "Hey!" he added, "Don't worry! We're going to have a party later with cake and ice cream and ugly clowns!" There was much cheering among them as the kids filed out the door. Rodimus waited until they left before reaching the exit himself.

"RODIMUS!" Magnus snarled.

"Yes, Love?"

"What the hell am I supposed to do with all this stuff?"

Roddi gave the room a cursory glance. "You could... hold a scrapbook party and invite all the ladies to help you put everything into scrapbooks with fancy lettering and hand-written signatures-"

"I'm talking about the whoopie cushions."

"Oh! Well..." he made a sound like the clearing of a throat. "I suppose you could buy a chest, pack them in-"

"This is not the end of it, Rodimus."

Now Roddi pasted on his patented shit-eating grin. "Optimus did say to shower you with love, Mags. After all, you saved our backsides... and our frontsides... the upsides. It's the very least we could do to you- I mean for you. Ta!"

"RODIMUS!" Magnus called. But the Second Prime ignored him as he trounced down the hallway, whistling. Indignant, Magnus tugged the netting off his body, though it hugged him tenaciously. He took one step then another and another, all of them ended in the flatulent sound of whoopie cushions. Rodimus' laughter echoed from the hallway until a door closed. Magnus crossed the room; every step made him cringe with embarrassment until he reached the doorway.

With a sigh of relief, the Major-general allowed himself a smile. cards, letters, drawings, photos... it was really sweet that so many people wished him well, even if it did come with a prank. Besides, that prank wasn't so bad. But Magnus thought about talking to Optimus regarding his bad poetry.

The Major-general took six steps down the hall when a trap door opened from the ceiling and showered him with butterflies, flowers, balloons, little dolls, stuffed puppies and kittens. Glitter... glitter everywhere. More ribbons and more glitter. At the last, a big sign floated down:

MAGNUS, YOU'RE AWESOME. LOVE, OPTIMUS.

Three weeks thereafter, Magnus still found glitter somewhere on his body.

******

Rusti woke early the following morning. She wanted to do anything but make her appointment. She knew whatever was to come promised emotional and mental anguish. Everything was in the past. Why should she deal with it-whatever it was? Oh, right; the nightmares. Just like the more mild one she experienced during the night. Even sitting on the patio before a wonderful breakfast and the cat failed to cheer her up.

Razor's tail waved up and down. Her vibrant green eyes squinted and winked at Rusti. "I STILL DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU MUST TELL THIS PERSON WHAT IS BOTHERING YOU."

Rusti pushed her eggs around. "It's designed to help me solve my emotional issues. It's supposed to help me figure out how to put things in my head. Maybe even forgive what happened. I think the main thing is to figure out what my nightmares are telling me." Rusti met Razor's eyes. "Do you dream? Are you alive enough to dream?"

"ARE YOU ASKING ME IF I SLEEP?"

"I guess I am. Do you?"

"IS IT NOT BELIEVED THAT EVERY THING WITH A BRAIN SLEEPS? THE COMPUTER REQUIRES OCCASIONAL SHUT DOWN, DOES IT NOT?"

Rust frowned and took a mouthful of hashbrowns. "Automobiles don't sleep. They have computers."

"AUTOMOBILES ARE NOT LIVING THINGS."

Rusti nodded in agreement.

Optimus' voice sounded from behind her and Rusti grinned. "Excuse me," he said softly. "I was looking for perfection and I seemed to have found her."

"WHAT'S HE TALKING ABOUT?"

Ignoring the cat, Rusti greeted Prime with a happy-loving gaze. Optimus settled beside her, digipad in hand. "Hello, Beautiful."

Now her day was better. "Did you get any rest last night?"

"Had a four-month nap, remember? Besides, I lost a bet and I get the pleasure-"

"Wait... what?" She did a double-take. "you what?"

"I lost a bet."

"You don't usually-"

"It was a game of pool," he explained as his fingers worked across the digipad. "Jazz made a bet and I lost."

Rusti stared at him and took a sip of tea. "What were you doing, ice skating?"

"Nnnno. Pool."

"Swimming?" Now she was teasing.

"Billards," he returned without meeting her perplexed gaze. "Rodimus failed a shot. I called it before he made it. Jazz put out the challenge and I lost."

Rusti sat back in her chair. "I can't wrap my head around that, Optimus. I mean, it doesn't take you long to learn anything and you... wait a minute." She ran through her memory. "Christmas, 2034... I think. There was a party in the Main Hall. Jazz visited us that year and Groove was dying to show off a new trick and you asked him to teach..." Then she realized what Optimus was up to and slowly nodded. "You sneak! You didn't have to!"

"Sometimes it's good to give people a break."

Rusti watched him a moment before sipping tea again. "And how badly did you 'lose'?"

"Mmmm, Nineteen ship's worth."

Her face dropped in surprise. "All nineteen? Doing what, exactly?"

"Duty roster."

Rusti about burst into laughter when the stomping footsteps from one Ultra Magnus clanged against the sidewalk several yards away. He moved like a slow locomotive, climbing a steep hill. Behind him fluttered a trail of glitter and a small stuffed kitten fell from his shoulder. Rusti and Prime followed the Major-general until he disappeared behind trees and steps leading toward the Trench.

"Huh," they said together.

"Seems like someone pulled a prank," Rusti's eyes lingered until Grotesque appeared from the same exit Magnus vanished through.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Optimus' voice raised ever so slightly. He looked busier than before, turning pages on the digipad.

"HE'S A PATHETIC LIAR."

Rusti answered Razor with a wink of an eye. She soaked in the moment of quiet then with great reluctance, decided it time to change her clothes-all new fresh clothes kindly provided by the people of Yolthanis III. "Well, My Love," she announced. "I guess I'd better go."

"Hm? Go where?"

She heaved a sigh, "counseling appointment."

He lowered the pad and concern lit his optics. "Would you like me to come along?"

Rusti shook her head. "This is just something I have to deal with, Optimus. Just... a lot of stuff in my head."

"I want to help," he said simply. "I don't want you to think that I'm ever too busy-"

"I know!" she returned earnestly. "But... I need to get to a place where I can define the problem before I can talk about it. Right now, I don't even know what it is. So, I want you to fulfill your... lost bet and we'll meet back here during dinner." Rusti stood and so did Razor who stretched, arched her back and hopped off the table.

"I'll be here," he promised. She blew him a kiss and went inside.

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes of beautiful peace followed Rusti's departure. The gentle air, the quiet water and the beautiful trees lulled Prime into a state of contentment.

Like Sunday afternoons with Rusti, he thought. No rushing to get there or see that person. He did not have battle plans to make. There were no ambassadors or business owners to establish trade agreements with. No bad news to sift through-no news period. Although, he silently amended, no doubt piles of homework waited for him. So much happened during his mental and physical absence that no one gave him a full report. How could they? Besides, he was not prepared to deal with any news, bad or otherwise. His first business was to reacquaint himself with the ships and all their occupants and their jobs. Even Optimus did not know how much he'd forgotten over the last several months.

Tapping the corner of his digipad against his chin, Prime reminded himself to visit the currently-elusive Dr. Gates. He wanted to see the Dieselbots for himself. Knowing Paul as he did, Optimus dared to bet his friend used every trick in the book in building the new Autobots. It then occurred to Optimus that Paul and his assistants and their assistants had to travel 300 years into the past to meet the refugees when they landed.

How did Dr. Gates know? And why did he bother to bring the 'newbies' with him?

As Optimus continued to list his questions, Magnus made a beeline straight for him. His large feet crushed the soft green grass with the delicacy OF a piledriver.

"Hello, Ultra Magnus," Optimus greeted casually. "I did not hear you coming."

"YOU! He boomed, "You and RODIMUS! You two are a pair of INGRATES! I do my duties as you dictate. I work my aft off keeping the troublemakers in line. I handle all the dirty work when you and/or Rodimus are too sick or wounded to do your job. I clean up whatever disaster takes place during your absence and what do I get for it? Loss of dignity! You and Rodimus go to Mars and leave me babysitting Fort Max in your absence. I deal with a crashed Tele-Tran. I put up with cruel and thoughtless visitors to the city. I investigate criminal activity and put up with nonsense from minority interest groups.'

'And what do I get for it all? Whoopie cushions and glitter! GLITTER!!"

Optimus waited a moment more so he did not interrupt Magnus' rant. When the Major-general said nothing more, Prime answered him. "We wanted to welcome you back with a... type of celebration that everyone could appreciate. And if that meant allowing Rodimus and Repugnus a chuckle or two, well..." Prime shrugged. "Everyone wanted-"

"You know what?" Magnus snorted, "I resign."

Optimus tilted his head left. "You what?"

"I've had enough. No more babysitting the two of you. No more arguing with Autobots who don't respect me. I'm done. I'm through. It's OVER. Between you and Rodimus-look, it's not even the fact that you're Primes. It's the fact that there are TWO OF YOU! I'm sick and tired of playing substitute Prime. I am DONE. Poke a fork in my ASS, you'll find that I am DONE!"

"Okay." Probably not the best of answers, but it was all Optimus squeaked out at the moment. Apparently it was good enough an answer for Magnus who stomped off with the same ground-punching rhythm as when he arrived.

****

Chy-Chaunam gave Rusti the option between lying on a couch or relaxing back in a recliner chair. Rusti claimed the chair as Arcee tapped at the larger room entrance. She smiled at the young lady whose eyes turned wide with surprise. "Arcee! You look GREAT!"

The femme, who once wore light pink and silver, now took on a peony-pink and black. Arcee smiled in gratitude. "I thought about blue. But to be honest with myself, I like pink. So I chose a different shade. I think it looks good with black, don't you?"

"Absolutely!" Rusti agreed. "It looks sharp!"

"Thanks." There was more to Arcee than her new color arrangement. Her legs were reshaped and her upper arms reinforced to withstand rougher combat. Rusti was proud of her. The Autobot femme settled on the floor beside Rusti as Monique arrived. She wore a sheepish grin and mumbled apologies for her tardiness.

Chy-Chaunam glanced from one guest to the other as Monique sat on the floor beside Arcee. "Rusti is most fortunate to have such good friends. But I must insist upon you both; whatever is said in this room stays in this room. Is that clear?" She waited for them to nod. "You must ask Rusti's permission before speaking about anything, even if it seems insignificant. Do not break her trust." The psychic gazed from robot to girl. Normally she'd never consider allowing anyone in the room during a private session. But she had little to no rapport with Rusti. It took months to build the kind of trust necessary for her work. But they did not have the luxury of time. Chy-Chaunam took a careful reading on Arcee and Monique the day before and believed they could be trusted.

Chy-Chaunam settled in her chair and sipped her tea now gone cold. The slender lady with platinum hair crossed one leg over the other and laid both hands on the chair's arms. "We're going to start slowly, Rusti," she began. "I'm going to count backward from twenty and as I speak each number, I want you to relax into that chair until we get to one. At that point your body should feel as though it were part of the chair, except your nose. You need to be so relaxed that your nose tingles. All right?"

Rusti only nodded. She followed Chy-Chaunam's counting and remained conscious as the psychic gave her suggestions and orders: "Relax your face. You are not alone in this. You can back out at any time. You are in control. All I'm doing is guiding you down."

Rusti smiled when her nose tingled. She imagined glitter sparkling on her skin. Per Chy-Chaunam's instructions, she envisioned a long hallway bedecked with many doors.

"Each door is different from another door. One door might be red or another might be made of gold. I want you to put things behind these doors. Some doors contain good things, wonderful memories. Other doors will open to sad things or frightening things. So I want you to choose a door that you wish to open today."

Taking another deep breath, Rusti turned to a door with a christmas wreath on it. "I like this door. It reminds me of christmas when I was twelve."

"That's a good start. Go ahead and take us in, Rusti. Step inside and tell me what you see."

"It's a party. Everyone I know is there. Jazz put it together, I think. The music is really loud. It hurts my ears."

"What do you do during this party?"

Rusti searched through her memory then smiled. "I made a bet with a group of Autobots. I had to buy Optimus a gift and bring him to the party."

Chy-Chaunam glanced at Monique and Arcee who sat very still, listening. "Why is this memory important, Rusti?"

"The present. It was a present I wanted to give him. But the present was ruined and I failed. But somehow... I don't know. I don't know who gave him the gift, but they gave it to him in my name. It was like a miracle. It was an awesome moment."

Chy-Chaunam allowed a moment of silence to pass. She drank more tea then continued. "Let's step back into the hallway. Do you see more doors?"

"Yes."

"Let's open a door to something that currently bothers you, Rusti. How about something or someone with whom you've recently had problems with? Do not open any doors you feel you cannot look into right now. Remember, Rusti, you are in control here. You are with friends and you are safe. So pick a door and describe it to me."

Rusti returned to the brightly-lit hallway and its many doors. She glanced at one door. It stared back at her as it oozed black goo. Backing off, she searched another door, this one grey and unremarkable. The one thereafter bore scratch marks, torn photographs and wrinkled paper bearing her drawings.

"And what's behind this door?" the psychic asked as she listened.

"I think it might be my dad."

"Are you sure?"

Rusti opened the door and frowned when it creaked on its hinges. "yeah. He's in here."

"what's he doing?"

"Staring at me. He's wearing his old exosuit. I hate that thing. And he's yelling at me."

"Okay. Right now, Rusti, I want you to turn your father into a paper doll."

"It makes him look funny." Rusti stared at a two-dimensional rendition of Daniel. Dark lines loaded his eyes with weight. The hard marks on his face aged him well into his sixties. His angry gaze did not leave her.

"did you have anything you want to say to your father?"

"Pfffp. I already told him everything there is to say. I told him I was going to make sure he never returns to Earth." Rusti continued to stare at the paper representation and felt a twinge of sadness. "I wish he would just be a father to me, you know? I wanted to be a daddy's girl. I wanted him to teach me things." she swallowed hard. "I'll never know what that's like."

*****

Galvatron grinned as Rodimus drove toward he and Prime. The second Prime transformed and stared at the Deception. "Glad the two of you beat me here," Roddi snarked. He took a step toward the hanger wherein Paul Gates waited to talk with them. Rodimus paused and looked back at Galvatron who did not lose his smile. "Tell me," Roddi clipped, "does Optimus have a license for you? Because I don't think it's legal to keep and bear weirdos."

Galvatron lifted his chin. "First-time joke: funny. Second-time use: lame." He bypassed Rodimus and continued talking: "You'd better get another book to steal jokes from, Rodimus. Yours are all rusted."

"I'd make fresh batches of insults, Galvatron. But then I'd have to find someone to translate them for you."

Optimus paid them no heed as he ventured into the bunker. Paul greeted him with a warm smile and handed the Autobot leader a digipad. Prime zipped through it and scanned all the updates and spotted a few 'finishing touches'. He dipped his head in a smile. "Nice job, Paul," He praised.

"Eh," the alien scientist shrugged. "I had a day off. Thought I'd tinker a bit on this or that. How are you feeling, by the way?"

"I feel good," Optimus returned the pad as they approached the four lifeless robots. "I'm thinking 'vacation' except there's this small matter of pay-back I owe the Quintessons. After all that, Roddi, Galvatron and I have to start house-hunting."

The age lines on Paul's face fell like his shoulders. "I am truly sorry about your homeworld, Prime. I hope you'll let us help you once you're ready."

"I'll let Rodimus handle it," Optimus announced. He laid a hand on Rodimus' shoulder while the second Prime looked blank.

"what?"

Optimus leaned slightly toward him: "I was telling Paul that you'd put an APB on a new home planet for us."

"Yeah, sure!" Rodimus lit up and gave Gates a thumbs-up. "I'll go through the galactic Yellow Pages. Post a want-ad on the IGN paper. Heck, I'll toss in Galvatron as a bargaining chip if they think he's worth anything!"

Optimus shook his head, grateful Galvatron did not egg Rodimus on with a comeback. Paul glanced at all three mechs and desperately wanted to know the back story regarding their alliance with the former Decepticon leader. He privately wagered it one hell of a story. Instead of asking, however, Dr. Gates grinned. "Hey, guys," he said, "wanna take them out for a test-drive? Hm?" He bounced brows when six sets of optics pinned him with interest.

Paul walked beside Galvatron while the two Primes followed them in automode. They crossed two bridges and descended into a remote valley carved with a clean, topped raceway.

Galvatron lightly scanned the steep cliffs and green mountains surrounding them. "Tell me," he said to Paul as Optimus and Rodimus transformed, "How did you know to expect us here?"

"Eh? Oh, I left a little note to myself the first time around."

"The first-what?" Galvatron studied the Humanoid alien beside him. With little to no knowledge of Dr. Paul Gates, Galvatron merely accepted everything as it came to him. But Dr. Gates appeared to be more than another of Optimus' myriad acquaintances and allies. At least the thirty, thirty-five foot aliens were not nearly as ugly as other species they've encountered during their 'eventful' exile.

Paul smiled smugly, clearly pleased with himself. He produced a small device from his right coat pocket and pressed two buttons in succession. All four visitors to the valley waited six minutes before one small pickup truck appeared from another path into the valley. The small royal blue Pontiac led its brothers down the roadway and onto the racetrack.

Rodimus finally took notice that someone among them was amiss. He leaned toward Optimus. "Psst. Where's Magnus? Shouldn't he be here?"

Optimus kept his optics on the brand new Autobots. "Magnus? Oh. He resigned yesterday."

Taken back, Rodimus slightly flinched. "Resigned? Huh. Okay."

"You ready for this, guys?" Paul called. He grinned like a madman and pushed three buttons on his remote. The four trucks revved their engines and left tire tracks on the asphalt the second they drove off. They rounded the first curve along the track and to Optimus' surprise, the black Ram 3500 duly pulled from the others with amazing ease with the Pontiac nibbling at its tail. The dark metal 1500 Express pushed into a higher gear and drove beside the Pontiac with the other heavy-duty truck shadowing the first three.

"Keep your optics clean!" Paul forewarned. He thumbed three other buttons and in mid-movement, the 3500 snapped out a set of short wings. It lifted ten feet off the ground, transformed, punched the ground in a landing and transformed back without slowing down. Paul cackled like an old woman. He drew a deep, satisfied breath. "Beautiful."

Rodimus inclined toward the scientist as if to examine Paul's ear. "can they all do that? And where can I get one of those?"

"Yup," Paul answered smoothly. "They can all do that. Pretty spiffy if I might say so." He bounced his eyebrows at Optimus as as the trucks approached. All four vehicles spurred a hard left without touching one another and drifted into a perfect formation before Paul and his 'customers'. Each truck gracefully transformed into robotic mode and stood at attention.

Rodimus approached them and scrutinized the 3500 as if looking for the slightest scratch. He set his optics on Paul, his expression both impressed and a little awed. "So, uh, will you take a check or are you asking for my first-born?"

Rusti did not make it for dinner. She left a love-note with a silly drawing explaining the day turned against her and she just needed a soft pillow and a thick blanket. Optimus puzzled over it. Rusti's behavior changed over the last few months. But then, Optimus could not deny he too grew different.

After most Autobots settled for a good recharge and Humans and the children turned for bed, all ship captains met the Autobot leaders at the table in the meadow. Magnus attended too, but he sat like a dead log, interested in nothing. cloudstreaker sat beside convoy with a digipad between her hands. Springer sat beside Titanium and Jazz on the other side of the security officer en-temp. Kup waved at Titanium across the table. The Frostbite's captain slid two pads in Kup's direction, no doubt signifying he surrendered Kup's job back to him. Kup smiled, wry and weary.

Optimus and Roddi took the end of the oval table. Rodimus remained standing with a datatablet in hand. "Hiya!" he greeted. crickets sang. "wow. Not the reception I expected. Shall I try again?" he swiftly turned to Optimus, "should I try that again?" He grinned when Optimus only eyed him. "Okay! HELLO, EVERY-BODY!" he declared with arms stretched outward. "Me and Op misses you!"

coral smiled. Springer wiggled his fingers. Magnus thunked his forehead on the table and did not look up again.

crickets sang.

Rodimus smoothly pointed at Galvatron: "Except you. I never miss you or Mr. Spock beside you. And Magnus, please don't get up. It'll just be another boring meeting."

Grotesque raised his hand and Rodimus pointed at him. The Monsterbot stood with palms flat on the table. "Is this gonna be another all-status-and-roll-call meeting or are we actually going to talk about something interesting?"

Optimus: "You hush."

A round of chuckles followed.

Rodimus smiled lightly. "Well, we do need a status report. I mean, Op and me have read all kinds of magazines from you guys-all the porn we could ask for. But seriously, we'd also like to take a minute to thank you guys for doing a seriously fab job-especially you, convoy. You go, girl."

Applause followed Rodimus' praise.

"Mags?" Roddi called. "We love you. You complete us. Optimus says that one day you'll make a great Prime." Roddi and Optimus leaned to the right, peering round Hotspot with hopes of an answer. No response. The two Primes glanced at one another and shrugged, all in perfect timing and unison.

"Let's talk about Daniel," Optimus suggested. "captain Littlefield, you go first."

The captain of the Sunset Kummya gladly stood from her seat in the middle of the table. "We have maintained constant surveillance and control regarding the activities and whereabouts of Mr. Witwicky. Unfortunately, Optimus, Rodimus, we were unaware that Mr. Witwicky somehow attained a digipad. He refuses to tell us the source and he used it to the detriment of the fleet. As, I'm sure, captain convoy relayed to you, Mr. Witwicky has been irrational, irreverent, over-demanding, rude and unruly. None of my crew members or other civilians wish to deal with Mr. Witwicky, even so much as to give him food. No one is willing to clean up after him. He continuously soils his cell, forcing us to move him into a new cell every day in order to sanitize the one before."

Rodimus slumped in his seat. "Sheesh."

Lakendra shrugged. "We're still trying to find who's responsible for Witwicky's digipad."

Rodimus sat up. "Does the Sunset Kummya know who gave it to him?"

captain Littlefield shook her head in several shortened movements. "The computer was missing time. Somehow the scanners lost contact with the brig at that time-"

"What about the ship?" Roddi clarified. He really did not mean to make the EDc-specialist-turned-captain twinge with guilt.

"No, sir. I-I didn't want to bother any of the psychics-or Miss Witwicky."

Optimus bowed his head slightly and tapped Roddi on their private internal channel: <<Remind me to introduce myself to our guests, Roddi.>>

<<The pleasure won't be yours.>>

Optimus set his elbows on the table and laced his fingers. "convoy, you mentioned Daniel on a detail or two."

"He's a menace. Somehow he took control of the Kummya's bridge before blowing up their navigational controls. Three children died because of him. I submitted him to one of the psychics and she told me later that there was nothing wrong with him other than a bad case of hatred. His poor daughter, Rusti, visited him once. He treated her..." convoy bowed over and laced her fingers behind her neck.

Kup set a finger on the table. "Prime," he said, addressing both of them. "This has to be dealt with. He's a security risk. And if someone on the 'inside' is helping him spread his misery to everyone else, then we need to find them, too."

Optimus nodded. "I am reassigning him to the Sagittarian Mozart as of tomorrow. This is not a bad reflection on you, captain Littlefield," he added quietly. "I think your crew deserves a break."

Titanium looked cross. "That really doesn't solve the problem! No matter which ship he's on, he'll be a royal pain in the aft! And who's to say he won't get his hands on a weapon next time? or another digipad?"

Roddi took his turn: "Know what I think? I think we should exile him. Leave him here, 300 years in the past. Do not 'pass go,' do not return to Earth."

Everyone in agreement nodded.

Optimus thought it through and part of him turned sad for the man he knew as a healthy, happy child. "Well, if everyone thinks it's the best solution, then..." Prime too, nodded. "However," he added, "I want to find the culprit who gave him the toy. So, we'll keep him busy on the Mozart until we find the person."

"What if we don't?" coral pitched in.

Rodimus sat straight up and smiled. "Oh, we will, darling. Don't worry. Optimus works in mysterious ways."

The senior staff discussed trouble with the Paratrons. Each captain named names from complainers to those who refused to do their job. Rodimus kept careful tabs and realized that all but five Paratrons stirred trouble one way or another. He and Optimus listened to convoy's report on her visit with Strike Back but neither Prime commented on it.

Jazz stood and glanced from one end of the table to the other. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I got people asking when do we get back t' Earth?" A compilation of voices followed Jazz's question. Four of them shouted at Optimus and Roddi until Magnus stood and blasted his voice across the table and around the meadow.

"ENOUGH! You tell them we will return to Earth when we have the resources and the army to do so!"

The table's occupants dropped silent. Both Primes gave everyone's temper a moment to relax then Optimus spoke first: "There is not one person here who does not want to reclaim Earth and wipe every Quintesson from existence. But this is not the time to do so."

"Then when?" Titanium demanded. "We have nineteen good ships for cryin' out loud!"

Rodimus: "Not the bot-power, Tite. We have civilians, children and not enough weapons. News cast: Earth is Quintesson Downtown central. They've constructed a wormhole between Jupiter and Saturn. They have allied themselves with the Inoux. Do you remember getting your afts kicked around by freakish stick-figures? Well guess what, boys and ladies, we have no known weapon that will behead those things. We don't know if they can be destroyed! We don't know anything about them!"

Kup glared at Optimus. "I thought you had history with them, Prime," he growled.

"I fought them before, yes. But we did not defeat them. What I do know about them is they're from an alternate dimension altogether. They share knowledge but they are not like an ant colony. They can act of their own individual wills."

"How do you know that?" Titanium asked with a softer voice.

"Galvatron, cyclonus and I were captured by the Quintessons and rescued by the Underground. That's where we learned a stray Destroyer class Inoux was working with Dezi Witwicky, coordinating strikes and shelters."

convoy's words came quiet, but well heard: "So they're not all bad; not all of them are out to eliminate us."

"I gotta say," Rodimus broke in, "I really don't think the Inoux were after us from the start. I think they were contracted to help the Quintessons and their payment was cybertron."

"WHY?" Gryph demanded. "The planet is millions of years old and depleted of all resources! You said so yourself, Optimus; cybertron is dead."

Again, Rodimus: "It's not depleted of all resources, Gryph. cybertron, as dark and cold as it is, still contains cybertonium. Almost every shred of metal on that planet is processed from it. The planet might not be fit for life, but it still has value."

Lakendra stood and Rodimus nodded to grant her permission to speak. "How many more years will it be before we get back to Earth? I can't seem to get a straight answer from our hosts as to how long we were in that hell. They Kummya's chronometer states we were there almost a full month. But the people here have hinted that it's been longer-"

"Two years," Titanium's answer stilled everyone's voices with dismay.

*******

"How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

"What month is it right now?"

"April."

"Is this a happy time for you?"

"School is almost over, so, yes."

"Rusti, is there anything going on in your life that worries you? Anything at all?"

Resting comfortably in the recliner, Rusti searched all the vaults in her mind for an answer. Although under hypnosis, she was fully aware of everyone in the room; Arcee, Monique and the psychic. She scratched an itch on her right leg and hummed. "Well, finals are coming. But my friend helps me-"

"Who is your friend?" Chy-Chaunam monitored the young lady closely. While her heart rate beat slow and strong, Rusti's back and leg muscles tightened.

"cody. He's such a sweetie."

"Is there anything going on with cody? Is he alright?"

"Oh yeah."

"And your parents?"

Rusti frowned when her father's frown appeared. Her mother drifted somewhere in the background. "I suppose," she grunted. "I mean, Dad's always knotted up with whatever's currently pissing him off. It's his status-quo."

"what about your mother?"

"I don't see her too often. Even when she's at work, she's at work." Rusti smiled. "That's her status-quo."

Chy-Chaunam shifted in her chair, resting on her left hip. They were going slowly and although she wanted to jump ahead, the psychic knew solid emotional ground needed to be laid before knocking on doors with black holes behind them. She worked with Rusti for two days to get to this point and hoped they were ready to open one of the forbidden doors. She strongly suspected, however, that neither she nor the Autobot or the other girl would be prepared for what they were about to hear. Chy-Chaunam emotionally grounded herself for the next question: "You have told me of your life in Autobot city. You said your parents lived in central city, several miles from Fortress Maximus. So, let's go there, shall we? Is there something going on in Autobot city?"

"Mmm. I hear things."

"Like what, Rusti? what do you hear?"

"Well, you know, pretty much the norm. Blurr got accommodations for his work on the lunar colony. Kup busted a weapons dealer from Portakus. There was a rumor, however that someone claimed they saw moving pictures on a wall. But someone else said they were drunk that night. So..." Rusti shrugged the rest of the answer. Her memory of Fort Max came clear, as if she were really there. She felt the wind, smelled the air.

"Is that all?" Chy-Chaunam pressed. "Is there anything else?"

"Well... I do remember something weird," Rusti looked at Rodimus as he entered her memory. She walked around him from an audience's point of view. She watched her younger self peer into his optics. "I think it was... sometime in May. I don't exactly remember what was going on or why I was there with Rodimus. But I remember how he froze. We were talking about something and he just froze. At first I thought he was talking with Optimus or Magnus, you know. They do that sometimes when they communicate internally. A lot of people find it creepy. But... this time it was just off. Oh, right! Yeah it was the strange black swirl in his optics I saw. It was there and gone, like the flashing of a vision. I didn't think much more about it. I thought I was just seeing things."

"Do you, Rusti, know what it is at this point in your life?"

"No."

"Did you see any other instances after that?"

"No. Not until late September."

"What happened in September?"

"I had a dream."

Chy-Chaunam squirmed in her seat then froze when Rusti opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Her relaxed expression did not change but the three ladies in the room with her watched as Rusti's grey eyes took on a soft blue hue. "Tell me about the dream," Chy-Chaunam struggled to keep her voice leveled.

"The digipads were talking to Optimus." Her voice took on a deep whisper: "You're confusing reality with unreality. You still think you're some superhero." Rusti paused and shook her head. "No, I don't want to say anything more about the dream. I don't want to remember the dream!"

"What are you afraid of?"

"The games. Optimus hates games. Omk zh'vvupteen. Omk zh'vvupteen.

"Tell me what that means, Rusti. Why does he hate the games? Is it something the digipads said?"

Rusti failed to draw breath until she faced the psychic and memories of darkness flooded her mind. She remembered the Matrix. She remembered a terrible scream. And somewhere else in her consciousness stood a faceless, four-legged creature. With a voice that sounded possessed, Rusti leaned toward Chy-Chaunam, her eyes no longer grey:

"Crystal water turns to dark

Where ere it's presence leaves it's mark

And boiling currents pound like drums

When something wicked this way comes...

Ill winds mark it's fearsome flight,

And autumn branches creak with fright.

The landscape turns to ashen crumbs,

When something wicked this way comes... "

"I have seen the face of evil," Rusti whispered, her voice more like her own. "And it has no face. It is your face and my face and the face of hopelessness. It's the face of hatred; a face that is burned in my mind for as long as I live."

Chy-Chaunam drew a deep cold breath. She had not realized her lungs stopped working until this moment. She trembled because the galaxy shrank down to her and Rusti. She did not register the other ladies in the room with them. The light in her own mind grew small and she trembled. Her hands ran clammy and her feet turned cold. She saw the thing in Rusti's mind. She saw the shadow as it skittered from one corner to another. Memory or not, the abomination froze her heart and ripped all sense of joy and security from her mind. A single tear dripped over her cheek. Her lips went dry. "Rusti," she whispered, "is this your nightmare? Is this what haunts you, the thing that tears you from the bed, screaming?"

Gradually Rusti calmed and withdrew. The image of white water bubbled like a fountain. "A fountain," she murmured to herself. "A fountain. There was water. I hurt my feet. I walked over a bridge. My feet bled. There was water and it came from the ground. It came up to me."

Chy-Chaunam kept her voice quiet as if to avoid stirring a calm water. "Is this a dream, Rusti? Was the fountain and the water part of your dream?"

Uncertain and wordless, Rusti sat up and removed her left shoe and sock. She searched the bottom of her left foot and ran her thumb over a long ugly scar. "No," she said softly. "I think I dreamed something that happened for-real."

*****

Galvatron lay on the grass in the eastern meadow. He watched the sun climb up the morning sky. He lay there even when the sun hovered above him, declaring mid-day. An hour thereafter, the soft swishing of feet rattled the foliage. cyclonus appeared above his friend's head. Galvatron arched his head back to greet cyclonus' ever-present, uncommitted expression. The former Decepticon leader smiled and dropped the flower in his hand.

"Aren't you supposed to be lying on a flat surrounded by nurses, watching bad television, cyclonus?"

"Don't you have something better to do than lie here listening to roots grow, Galvatron?"

Galvatron smacked the ground on his right and cyclonus planted his aft there. Turning on his side, Galvatron met his friend's optics with a light smile. "I'd make a crack about roots. But I doubt you'd find it amusing."

"There are many things about you I do not find amusing, Galvatron."

"Touche. I am, however, glad to see you are up and walking, spreading sunshine and happy faces wherever you go." Galvatron ignored his friend's quiet grunt, "have you taken any time to catch up on current events?"

"We're on Yolthanis III, right place, wrong time. The Primes are up and alive. They held funerals four days ago. And you are your usual cheerful, genius self. I doubt any of that holds greater significance than a passing sentence at the end of a newscast."

"As I said," Galvatron repeated, "sunshine and happy faces."

From a subspace pocket cyclonus produced a datatablet and set it between them. "Horrors from Deep Space, Galvatron? Really?"

Galvatron sheepishly grinned like a mischievous, guiltless boy caught snitching cookies. "You looked like you needed company. I went to play with the Terrorcons then I'd visit you and read stories-"

cyclonus picked up the tablet and held it before his former leader. "From Soundwave's choice of literature?"

"Ehhh," Galvatron shrugged. "I'll admit, the bot-eating space blob was a little over the top. I'm surprised you were listening at all."

cyclonus shook his head, feigning disgust. "It was your atrocious attempt to imitate a female voice that kept waking me up." Galvatron stared until they both laughed. cyclonus withdrew the tablet as Galvatron returned his gaze upon the clear and sunny sky. "So tell me, Mighty One. What have the Autobots planned?"

"you know, cyclonus, every time you call me that, I will start calling you other things... grasshopper or padawan or..." He lolled his head right, "Mr. Spock."

cyclonus intensified his stare. "You sat beside me for six days, sneaking in, sneaking out, even during non-visiting hours. Did you bathe me, too? Don't answer that. So I feel compelled to call you a title deserving of your vigilance."

Galvatron scoffed. "Are you trying to appease my arrogance, cyclonus? Really? Pfffp. Shit. You just killed my sense of humility. Now I'll have to go harass Rodimus just so he'll knock me off my pedestal."

cyclonus smiled smugly.

"They must repair the Matrix, cyclonus," Galvatron finally answered. "Off to Never-Never-Mechlatex. I suspect, however, we'll not find friends there. A mad bot rules the planet."

"How do you know this?"

"From Shockwave. He commenced several trade agreements behind Megatron's back. One of those agreements was with Psyklonex. And no, I know nothing of him. I suspect, however, that Optimus might."

"Am I right to suspect we'll be leaving in the next few weeks?"

Galvatron hesitated to answer. His mind and heart recalled the Decepticon femmes and he wished, not for the first time, he could see them again. "Yes, I believe so," He murmured. "They're aligning the ships to ride on a wavelength or frequency of some sort."

"And what of us, Galvatron? What will we do?"

"We wait, my friend. We work with them and we wait."

*****

"Hiya, Dan-o!"

Witwicky slowly woke to an early morning nightmare: a smiling Rodimus Prime. He glared and sat up. "Well, isn't this a treat?" he snarled. "The devil with a yellow target on his chest decided to rise from the underworld to remind me of my freaking miserable life."

"Aww! Don't be sad, Danny!" Rodimus nearly sang. "See, today is your lucky day!"

"Lemme guess: Optimus Prime died, Magnus fell into a vortex and you are getting married to a Decepticon."

Rodimus ticked a clicking sound and shook his head. "You need coffee, young Human. Fortunately for me, I get to deny you. No, no. It's your lucky day because I won't have to babysit you anymore." And Roddi grinned.

Daniel hated that expression. It usually meant nothing good. "So... are you people leaving and abandoning me here on this planet?"

"Pfffp. You. Wish. No, Optimus is going to handle you now. You lucky sonofabitch, you!" Rodimus leered.

They transferred Daniel from the Sunset Kummya with many a haughty farewell from a few crew members. He received icy glares and jeers from Autobots and Humans as he boarded the Sagittarian Mozart. Daniel bemoaned the fact that his bonds prevented him from flipping any one off.

He expected to end up in a cell somewhere in the belly of the ship. To his surprise, his escorts led him to Deck Three, conference room i-52. The doors parted for them and Daniel, Rodimus, chalk-Talk and Pulsar Tau stepped into a wide room occupied by comfortable chairs, a thick carpet and a large screen planted in the wall not far from his left.

Optimus sat in one chair, convoy in the other. They worked on two interlinked digipads like two friends playing some private game. Optimus released his half of the set and stood to greet Rusti's estranged father. "Well, what have you brought me, Rodimus?"

"Something the Roddi dragged in." the Second Prime grinned. "Did you want me to stay and witness the transfer and other such hodgepodge business?"

"Mmm. No. Thank you. Pulsar Tau, if you please. I will need you to escort Mister Witwicky to his 'quarters' in a moment." Optimus watched Rodimus leave like a student escaping school after a bad day. The door hissed shut and Optimus folded his arms. "Well, hello, Daniel. It's been a while." Daniel only rolled his eyes and Prime continued. "you've been a real pain in the aft for the last couple of years."

"yeah, well, I'm still here with you people. Nothing's changed. How long do you plan to keep me locked up?"

Prime's tones turned flat. "Until we have driven you quite mad."

"See, Prime, the thing is: you won't do anything to me. You don't believe execution solves anything. I'll just be a piece of luggage you'll drag along, all across the galaxy until we get to Earth."

"Mmm. Well, I don't think you'll be going to Earth, Daniel. I don't plan taking you there."

"Oh. Talked with Resonna, have you? She said the same thing."

"Did she?" Optimus allowed silence between them. convoy watched but kept out of the conversation. "I understand you've been a handful while Rodimus and I were healing. You've been less than cordial or cooperative. It doesn't matter. Nor does it matter whether or not you give up the name of the person who supplied you with the digipad you chose to turn into a weapon."

Daniel shrugged. "So that makes me a bad boy. Too late to do anything about it now."

Well, you've been caged up quite cozy, I understand."

Daniel huffed. "Well, not all the time. Rodimus took me out for a walk once and made me clean up some hallway on the Mozart when plants took over."

"I think Rodimus should have kept you busy all along. Idle hands seek mischief. So I will assign you to a few jobs."

"Well," Daniel glanced back at Pulsar Tau who kept his optics forward, visually attending neither Prime nor Daniel himself. "I will probably refuse. You can lead me to a job. But you can't make me work."

"So does that mean you're willing to starve yourself to death? Because if you choose to do so, Daniel, that will be on you. Not on us."

"Wha-?" Daniel wheezed with half a laugh. "You're making me work for food? Isn't that slavery?"

"Everyone works for food here, Daniel. Even your daughter has jobs."

"What," Daniel sneered, "pretending to have sex with you? Give me a break."

"Mm. I've always been a believer in the punishment fitting the crime. I'm assigning you to laundry duty; more along the lines of diaper laundry duty. I will not discuss that any further. When you have finished that for the day, you will report to maintenance where they will assign you to a hallway wherein you will clean the floor from one end to the other. You will not be relieved for the day until everything is done. So, how quickly or slowly you do your work is up to you. But you will get it done."

Titanium interrupted the moment with a call on internal comm lines. Optimus answered it with some irritation but kept his voice in check. He ignored Daniel's childish glare and nodded to himself. He turned to convoy with a more generous expression. "Would you mind too terribly to handle him for me? Apparently someone demands I speak with them."

convoy stared a moment. "Let me guess: the Psycade."

"Dealt with them also, have you?" Her masked expression more than aptly answered his question. Optimus headed for the door when Daniel huffed.

"So... just like that? No good-byes, no smart remarks? Gotten a little cold lately, Prime."

Optimus did not dignify the Human with so much as a glance. "You're dealing with me, Daniel. Not the Optimus side of me; but the Prime. I owe you nothing; neither gracious words nor any sense of respect, whether or not we shared history. You chose your own path, made your own mistakes. I will deal with you as a judge, not as a friend."

Daniel's veins turned cold as Prime left the room. The words sank into him like sharpened ice; the realization that he just received what he deserved. His sudden punishment was not so much in the occupational work assigned to him but in the finality of Optimus' ended friendship.

Titanium took on the undue pleasure of housing the Psycade on the Frostbite. He gave them whichever part of the vessel they chose within reason. He made it clear, however, that he was the captain and in charge and they were, under no circumstances, to manipulate or psychically address any personnel or any part of the ship. He held that them to that promise with one added warning: that he'd make sure Rusti informed him of any 'funny business'.

Samiko assured Fort Sagittarius' former city commander they'd cause no trouble.

Optimus met the group of some two-hundred-plus psychics in a room re-situated to their needs. They sat before him in a semi-circle and as a courtesy, he too sat on the floor. Many members of the Psycade refused to make eye contact with the Autobot leader as Optimus surveyed the group. Tall, small, extra small, Humanoid, robotic and more than a few looked nothing either humanoid or robotic. Optimus realized he faced the very people responsible for his mental breakdown several years ago. More than half the psychics in the room huddled, looked askance or bowed over, burdened with guilt.

They knew that he knew.

Samiko gracefully rounded her way to stand before him. She offered a welcoming but weakened smile. "I must admit I am surprised you were willing to come and talk with us."

Optimus regarded her without judgment. "You live among us," He said evenly. "It means you are affected by our decisions as much as everyone else. That means you are no different than the officers, crew members and citizens of each ship. You are entitled to a hearing."

Samiko nodded. "You could have sent Rodimus or another captain in your place however and you did not. For that, we are grateful."

"It does not mean I hold you guiltless for your involvement with the Quintessons," Optimus clarified. "But I do not know your stories or your histories. For that part, I withhold blame. I came not as an accuser, but to inform you that you are free to chose where you wish to go. You may stay with us or leave as you see fit. You are bound by no obligation either as warrior or servitude."

Samiko slightly and respectfully bowed. "We do, nevertheless, owe you gratitude for taking us with you from Bare Anches. were it not for Ultra Magnus, we certainly would have vanished with the science station's demise. And certainly not one person in the galaxy would be the wiser of our life and death. In that regard, we hope to be of some assistance, of some aid or use for your people in spite of their rightful mistrust. We are aware of your need for allies and as I speak for the Psycade, I should like to assure you we would be honored to be counted among your assets. All we ask in turn is a place to call home. Whether it be on another world willing to take us, or Earth. We offer our strengths, our abilities and our allegiance if you would be but find a place for us."

Prime's optics swept over the congregation of people, now homeless. No families other than one another, no place to go, no foundation upon which to stand other than among the refugees. At last he nodded. "Very well. I will tell Titanium to add you to his roster." the Autobot leader turned surprised when the faces of the guilty looked to him in surprise. They weren't expecting that kind of answer. Prime dipped his head in a smile as Samiko spoke her gratitude. He left them deeply suspecting he made one of the best decisions in his life.

******

"Don't drop the teddy bear!" Rusti repeated the phrase for seven long moments until chy-chaunam called her out of hypnosis. Rusti returned to the immediate moment with a weary expression. Her raw throat ached with every breath. A wet cold settled over her cheeks. Her skin, clammy and cold make her wonder if she grew sick. chy-chaunam pressed several tissues into her hand and Rusti wiped her eyes and cheeks and without thinking, blew her nose. Her arms and legs hurt as if she returned from running and lifting weights at the same time. Her stomach cramped and the girl bowed over, grateful her long red hair hid her pained expression.

"You are exhausted, Rusti," chy-chaunam surmised. "I think you need to take the rest of the day off."

"Where did the bear come from?" she murmured. Rusti's head circled in confusion until Monique draped a sweater across her shoulders.

"come on, hon," the older lady coaxed, "let's go get something to nibble on." With a glare in chy-chaunam's direction, Monique tugged Rusti's weary body out the chair, out the room and down the hall. Rusti walked beside her, slow as an old woman. confusion pinched her eyebrows so that she noticed nothing of her environment until her roommate introduced her to a chair in the cafeteria.

Monique said something more but Rusti failed to make sense out of it. She sat alone, her eyes cast an empty stare at the flooring. There was a teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck. Her dad took the teddy bear and climbed a tall building then dropped the bear from a window. The bear fell and fell and white water bubble up and grabbed it. The bear fell and fell. The water engulfed it with cold.

Rusti hugged herself. Why the bear? She never had a teddy bear. Ultra Magnus gave her a fluffy duffy. She had a fluffy duffy. So, her dad couldn't have a teddy bear to drop down a building. Poor little bear! What happened to it?

As she thought more on the bear, Rusti wondered what happened to her. How did she get the scar on her foot? Why did white water keep coming back to her? She choked until tears fell from her eyes again. someone's warm arm slid across her shoulders and Rusti sat up, searching for a shred of adult-like dignity. She did not have the energy, however. A bowl of tomato soup sat before her, steaming and inviting. (Was it tomato? Do they have tomatoes on other planets?) A soothing cup of hot tea followed and Monique sat beside her with her own cup of tea.

"Hey, hon," she said kindly. "You've been through hell the last couple of days. Maybe it'd be good to tell that psychic bitch to lay off for a while."

Rusti somberly stirred her soup. She scooped it up then dripped it off the spoon. Repeating the process, her mind recalled a distant memory; something about cream of chicken soup. Her tear-stained cheeks hurt when she smiled. "Once when I was a little girl, Optimus brought me some soup. I was really upset over something. I don't remember what it was about right now, but I remember he offered to blow on it for me if it was too hot."

Monique giggled. "That's funny. I can't imagine him... How well do you know him?"

Rusti scoffed but did not meet her roommate's eyes. "He and Rodimus practically raised me. Long, long story." She scraped the topmost layer of soup and carefully ate.

Monique sipped her tea. "So they were kinda like parents to you?"

Rusti winced. "No. No, I never really saw them as parents. They were more like older friends who let me do almost whatever I wanted."

Monique grinned. "I hope that didn't include robbing banks."

Rusti thought of the Dinobots. "No. No bank robbery. They made sure I did my homework." She ate a little more soup. "come to think on it," she added, "I took school seriously to piss my parents off."

"How so?"

"I told them I'd like to teach. They thought that type of career was beneath me. Then I told them I'd teach Transformer physiology. Should have seen their faces."

"Why would that make them mad?" Monique watched the young lady's shoulders fall and Rusti sighed. "Is that part of the long, long story?"

The bear. The bear. The bear.

How was it that she dealt with her captivity in Quintesson hands (or tentacles) and dealt with her wacked family and dealt with her crazy life in general? The memories locked behind Door Number Fourteen taunted her. Maybe some things were meant to be left alone; memories or not.

Supper came and left. Most ladies and their families retired for the night either there at the hospital or on their 'home vessels'. Optimus was busy and the last thing Rusti wanted was to return to the crested Moon by herself.

"Hey!" Monique's voice dispelled the growing anxiety in Rusti's heart. Between her hands, the older lady held a puzzle; some sort of cartoon character in a thousand-piece assortment. "Wanna play?"

Grateful for company, Rusti's cheeks lifted into a half-hearted smile.

"I'm gonna ask for a hot fudge sundae. Would you like one, too?"

Rusti blinked. "Yes! That would be perfect!"

They claimed a table toward the middle of the room; a pile of puzzles between them, fudge sundaes at the side. At first the ladies worked in the quiet of their own jumbled heads. Gradually Monique started talking. Rusti listened to her new friend's story, grateful Monique's soft voice staved off the noise in her own head.

"I worked as a fire dispatch in Autobot city, Australia. I took care of my parents, had two dogs and a cat. My sister, Talya, was twice divorced, three kids and a crappy job. Her bad choice in men and careless lifestyle taught me to stay out of trouble and keep my nose clean. I actually signed up to work on Mars and dispatch miners to and from the Palatial caverns. But two weeks shy of my transfer, the Invasion hit. I was at work. Security shoved us out the building and into transports that carried us to the Armored crest. A few idiots decided to stay. I wanted to stay and find my parents. But um... as the transport lifted, the entire western side of Fort Sonix broke off and sank. We lived in that section."

Monique paused as she laid three pieces onto the puzzle. "No one survived. How could they, right?"

Rusti swallowed hard. "I know what it feels like to lose your family. My sister, Dezi was in central city. Never got to say good-bye."

"Most all of us didn't. I can't imagine how some people go one. Parents lost children, children lost parents and so forth. I guess it's the way of things. It's always hard to survive. But it certainly gives you greater perspective."

"What about the Q-Virus? How much did it affect you?"

Monique put one piece down and tried another then repeated the process. "Uhh... I certainly didn't like the idea of birthing baby Quintessons. I know more than one girl took her own life. I'm not going to say I wasn't tempted to do the same thing."

"what stopped you?"

Monique looked up and Rusti met her eyes. "You," the older woman replied. "I don't know. Maybe that sounds contrived or whatever. But hearing your story and waking up in the middle of the night to shake you out of your dreams..." she shook her head and tightly smiled. "No one who lives a happy life screams from dreams like that. I've lost my home and my family. But you... I think you've lost some of your own sanity. That's not to say you're kookie. But you've seen death on a level most people will never experience. I mean, yes, we all see death at some point in our lives. It's part of life. But you've seen something... or things for which the only way to describe them is in a scream."

Rusti turned somber and dropped her eyes to the table. She silently nodded and picked up her sundae.

Murmurs spoke with a double voice. The voice's owner stood at the edge of her peripheral vision; just enough to make naught more than a shape.

Ohmigod, don't drop me!

Again the double-voice haunted her ears. Words, garbled like a song drowned in a bad tempo, repeated. Repeated.

Ohmigod, don't drop me!

Rusti sprang from her pillow, yet again bathed in sweat and terror. "Dont' drop me!" she gasped for breath.

"Who's dropping you, hon?" Monique asked sleepily.

Their other roommate, Amndy, drew a deep breath and stirred under her blankets. "Is she okay?" she slurred.

Rusti did not realize she rocked herself back and forth. Her eyes peered through the dark until Monique clicked on her light. The forty-something lady sat at the edge of Rusti's bed and tugged stray hairs off the girl's face.

"Rusti? What happened? What did you dream?"

"Someone let me go."

"Who?" Monique tried to attain eye contact but Rusti's mind drifted too far from the moment. "Did you want to talk with chy-chaunam?"

Deep breath. "No. No thank you, Monique. I'm sorry, Amndy."

"...s'okay."

All three snuggled under their covers. Rusti fell asleep but ten minutes later, her brain reactivated, turning her words into a tiresome loop. Were her words from the bear? She recalled the bear. It wore clothes and a necklace. It also had her legs. "Me," she mouthed. Rolling from her left side, Rusti stared at a ceiling not perceived in the dark. The bear's face smiled at her. Its chocolate faux fur invited touch. Open arms welcomed hugs.

The teddy bear sat in a cage. A giant' shadow passed by the cage then passed by again. Garbled words entered her ears like back-masking; disturbing and illogical.

The cage opened.

The cage opened.

The cage disappeared.

The giant stretched forth its giant hand; giant fingers inched toward her. They picked the bear up by its right leg. The bear squealed and begged and screamed.

Again Rusti sat up. Her heart thundered against her bones. She begged and screamed! Don't look down! Don't look down! Rusti shivered and trembled and slipped out of bed. She tripped over the bedding and landed on her chest. Unfazed, she scrambled up and fled for the door.

BANG! The door hit the wall behind it and she dashed down the hall, into the chilly night and across the courtyard. Which room? Which room was it? Which room??

There! Thirty-six B. Rusti banged on the door; manners and courtesy be damned. "chy-chaunam!" she called, "chy-chaunam!" She banged three times more before the door winded open and the psychic stood in the doorway in a slinky nightgown.

She did not look happy. "Goodness, girl! It's three-something A.M.! can't it wait?"

Rusti's voice trembled, "I was dropped!" Without another word, chy-chaunam ushered her in and closed the door. She floated to her kitchenette and set a tea kettle on the stove for tea. With a silent wave of her hand, she beckoned Rusti to sit at her little table.

Rusti shivered as she sat. Her nerves threatened to give way to a meltdown. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know what else to do."

"At least you are brave enough to reach out for help," the psychic-counselor answered calmly. "It's not easy to face these things, Rusti. I'm glad you found the courage to come to me rather than denying the moment you're in."

"I'm the teddy bear," Rusti whispered. "It's me."

chy-chaunam nodded, fully aware. "And you said you were dropped. You also mentioned a fountain a couple days ago. So, my guess is, you were dropped, you fell and you fell into a water fountain."

With a shuddering sigh, Rusti gazed into chy-chaunam's pale eyes. "You could have pulled that memory right out of me, couldn't you? I mean, you could have pulled that memory out like a tumor. Why didn't you?"

The psychic set two dainty tea cups on the table then turned to a cupboard beside the sink. "The mind is not like the body, Rusti. Going in and procuring information is potentially damaging. For some people, it's painful." She slipped a plate out of one shelf and a container of cookies from another. The tea kettle quietly whistled and chy-chaunam removed it before the volume increased. "Memories have to rise to the surface on their own, like a splinter. You resisted me because subconsciously you were protecting yourself. That alone told me you harbored great emotional anguish and I had to let you work through it."

Rusti stared at the table's smooth surface as her counselor tempted her with cookies and hot tea. The young lady warred within herself. There lay yet another truth bearing greater sorrow than the memory of her fall.

chy-chaunam gracefully claimed the chair beside the younger lady and dipped her spoon in the sugar four times. "You are the only one who has the power to choose to heal or not, Rusti," she said softly. Her spoon churned in repetitive motion. She waited as the girl remained motionless. "Sometimes you must pierce a wound and drain the infection before it can heal. Facing ugly truths become an infection if not dealt with. Sometimes it takes courage to look at the ugliness of a wound. It is vulnerable and bleeding and never a pretty sight."

Rusti blinked, releasing tears. "I don't want it to be real," her mousy tones barely touched the air. "I don't... I wish I could un-know what I know." her aching eyes lifted, her wet eyelashes touched her brows. "I'm shocked and angry. I don't know where to go from here. I don't know how to deal with it."

chy-chaunam leaned slightly forward. "The only rule in dealing with something is to avoid solving a problem with a problem, Rusti. Denial is an example."

Rusti snapped and shot out of her chair. "THEN HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH THIS?! HE SAID NOTHING TO ME! OPTIMUS DROPPED ME AND SAID NOTHING!!" She calmed a notch. "Eighteen months of my life is MISSING. And now, after all this time, after all these years and thousands of light years of travel, I come as close to death as anyone can. And he still could not confide in me and tell me EXAcTLY what happened?! Have you any idea what that's like?" Rusti spun away and wiped her cheeks. She gasped for air and searched her soul for something on which to purchase her inner calm. The only thing that came to her were Delta's poisonous words.

"...I'm sure you've found [him] complicating. ...Optimus [keeps] secrets. [He] is all about diplomacy; how to use people... to benefit him(self) or whatever he has in mind... He does it with almost everyone. And usually, the... tool is not aware of it."

Rusti bowed so far over she used her arms on knees to keep from falling. She allowed chy-chaunam to set her back in the chair. Rusti gripped the tea cup when her counselor put it between her hands. Otherwise, she neither moved nor spoke.

The psychic gave Rusti time and silence to process. She plucked a cookie off the plate and broke it in half.

"Do you think I hold Optimus under unrealistic expectations?"

"Do you?"

"I've always believed our relationship was based on truth and trust. And I understand why it happened. But I don't understand why he didn't tell me; why he kept it a secret. Is it that he doesn't trust me to understand?"

chy-chaunam nibbled one half the cookie as she studied the girl. "No one is infallible, Rusti. Sometimes people do things with good intentions but find it backfired, doing more damage than good."

"I'm just..." Rusti shook her head.

"Stunned?"

"Yeah. I'm angry. I'm conflicted. I don't know what to do with it all."

"You're conflicted, because you feel betrayed. Maybe?" chy-chaunam watched Rusti's lips soundlessly move. "You're stunned because someone you love, even cherish, hurt you then said nothing about it and allowed you, in a way, to suffer. Does that sound about right?"

Rusti numbly nodded.

"And," the psychic continued, "because you love him, you don't want to hurt him in turn. But you want him to know that he hurt you. You just don't want him to feel hurt when you tell him he hurt you."

Rusti smiled a little and sipped her warm tea.

chy-chaunam took another step of logic. "If he feels hurt when you tell him he hurt you, that's not on you, Rusti. He made a mistake. And you have the right to confront him on it and tell him. You don't have to be nasty or mean about it. In fact, I suggest you do not confront him while you're angry. Talk to him like an adult. I know he will respect that."

As Rusti processed the psychic's words, it hit her that chy-chaunam honest meant what she said about knowing Optimus Prime. It was off their conversation's topic, however and not something Rusti cared to pursue, anyway.

*****

Optimus just completed the duty roster for half the fleet when Galvatron approached him. Early morning brought a slight chill to the air. Sunrise labored over the mountain walls but its illumination did not quite reach the valley floor. Optimus' old strength returned to him and with it, the motivation to take up all the responsibilities charted for his office. He did not flinch, did not slump or eye the short stack of digipads with dread. He had the energy and the drive. It felt good to feel good again. Yet as well as he felt, Optimus grew concerned for Rodimus. His friend lived the drudges of remorse. Helping Rodimus was going to take time; a day-by-day effort. The first wall to crack was proving to Rodimus he had a life worth fighting for.

Galvatron approached the Autobot leader and faced Prime scrunched on his haunches. "Tell me something, Prime," he said quietly. "Do all Optimus' skip sleep and meals when assigning work schedules to an entire fleet?"

"Who says I skipped a meal?"

"Rodimus."

"Tattle-tale punk." Optimus enjoyed Galvatron's snigger. "What brings my friend out here this early in the day?"

"House training."

"Heh." Prime nodded with a smile and finally lowered the current pad from his optics. The the smile slid away. "Oh. You're... you're wanting to bring your pets with us, aren't you?"

"I promise to feed them, clean up after them and do my chores."

Prime turned serious. "Galvatron-"

"Look," Galvatron interrupted, "I know it's all unconventional. It might even be a little inconvenient for whichever ship we put them on. But Optimus, I can't leave them here." He watched as Optimus rolled his head upward, preparing his argument. "I know Rodimus will object," Galvatron added.

"Vehemently,"

"No doubt. But," Galvatron raised a finger to make his point: "but would you not agree that they'd come in handy as an additional line of defense? Would you not say that adding them to the Dinobots would make a greater front line force than the Dinobots alone?"

"Look, Galvatron, I personally don't have a problem with the Terrorcons. I trust you. However, if I say yes, Rodimus will use paint stripper next time I take a shower. Or worse! You have no idea the things he's done to the Twins!"

Galvatron shook his head. "You can use my shower! I'll even hide you under the bed or the closet if necessary!"

"The point is," Optimus returned patiently, "we already have a house full of pets and you want to bring home more strays. How would the Dinobots take that? It's not like we can call in a pet therapist to help the adjustment."

"Ah!" Galvatron swiftly corrected, "actually, we do."

Prime turned deadpan. "What?"

"Repugnus has done a fabulous-"

"No."

"-job with the Dinobots-"

"I do not believe this."

"-he's tough but fair and reliable-"

"This will force me to sedate Rodimus."

"-I'm sure he can help me see to their camaraderie."

"Galvatron-"

"I already told you, you can move in with me and cyclonus."

Prime stared, waiting for the Decepticon to finish. He paused a beat more to be sure. "If you can prove to me they can get along-and I'll give you a week-I will do what I can. But everyone must agree to this or it won't work."

Galvatron eagerly leaned forward, his pointer finger still between them. "I'll take that week and make it work." With that, Galvatron patted Optimus' left shoulder and dashed off.

Optimus laughed softly. "I know you will," he said to himself.

Optimus laughed softly. "I know you will," he said to himself.

He worked steadily for another two hours. Between incoming reports and the roster's increasing complexity, he gave little thought to time. Blaster informed him half an hour ago they just completed the frequency realignment on the Spiral Star. Optimus thought on the whole idea of riding through a wormhole guided by a frequency. The very idea sounded too far-fetched. The theory behind it left little room for error. correction: it left no room for error. Optimus and Rodimus already decided they'd use the wormhole to return to their 'home reality' then take a left turn (so to speak) and head straight for Mechlatex. They simply had nothing with which to fight the Quintessons. Not yet. They needed an army. Nineteen ships plus some odd-thousand Autobots and Paratrons weren't going to be enough. The Inoux alone required greater firepower than Autobot technology had to offer.

They didn't even know what killed the alien species.

Prime worked another forty-five minutes before turning all the digipads off. He and Roddi promised one another they'd take time to relax. Yolthanis III might be the only vacation they'd have for a long time to come.

*******

As she traveled a solitary path leading to a nearby pond, the ghostly outline of a centaur approached her. It whooshed through the trees, momentarily losing its shape then reformed and stood before her.

The Mozart's motif greeted her with a genteel bow. "Tidings of the morning to you, Miss," he said. "I ask for an audience."

Rusti blinked. "You realize I am not of noble blood, right? You keep addressing me as if I were a princess. It's flattering but unnecessary."

"I hail from the Old World and there we have developed protocols that adhere to the royal court... My Lady."

Rusti nodded and cheerfully smiled. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. It's just strange to me. What brings you here, Mozart?"

"Someone has boarded without authorization."

"Who?"

"Unknown. I attempted to coordinate with the computer but the computer is, at present, unresponsive."

Rusti filtered the information from the Mozart's British accent then took into account the Mozart's tendency toward over-caution. "can you tell me if the intruder is carrying tools or digipads or anything suspicious?"

"Not at this time."

"Well... uh... Magnus will want more to go on before he acts. You can't give me a name. How about a description?" She frowned when Mozart shook his head. "Well, keep a scanner on him and let me know." She smiled again when the centaur bowed once more before vanishing through the foliage.

Rusti continued her walk. Her head rolled from one topic to the next, unsettled and confused. She showered earlier and looking at the mirror, saw a girl that was no longer a girl. Not that Rusti felt any different; but that all the long months surviving battles and bruises, all the anxiety and sleepless nights wore a lot of the softness from her face. The Q-Virus took a tremendous toll on her, body and soul. What exactly kept her from falling off the edge of life? How did she survive?

The gentle splash of water whisked her attention to the left and she remembered her goal: the pond. She started to barge through the shrubs and trees bordering the walkway when she caught sight of Optimus' colors and familiar shape. She hung back, about to turn and walk quietly away when it dawned on her that she'd never seen him swim before.

He dived like a dolphin, disappeared then resurfaced, wading enough so water touched his shoulders. Rusti grinned. In a way the sight was silly. He really enjoyed the private moment. In another, she thought him graceful. She batted her eyes when Optimus swam with several breast-strokes.

Wow.

He dived again, leaving rings in his wake. A moment later, his feet surfaced; the only sign that anyone occupied the pond. Rusti waited for him to return... and waited. His feet disappeared but Optimus did not surface. Rusti would have panicked had his audio receptors not broken through the glassy surface. He levitated on his back and leisurely floated. She did not know how someone made of metal had the ability to float. But then, Transformers weren't just machines.

Prime turned about and stroked toward the gentle waterfall some yards off. He tugged himself upon the rocky ledge and stood under the rushing water. He let it fall over hims as if the water washed him completely clean of the Matrix Virus. And possibly, that's why he was here.

Rusti didn't think she had the right to confront him now. Why did he have to be so wonderful? Perhaps her issue with him did not need to be an issue. She could just bury it and move on.

But...

But behavior unchallenged was behavior bound for repetition.

She forced her lungs to take a deep breath. She withdrew and followed the sidewalk to the pond's entry point. Three benches waited for her and Rusti chose the middle. She smiled when Prime spotted her. But Rusti's smile did not light her eyes. She waited for him to cross the pond, her heart beat fast and her palms turned sweaty.

Optimus surfaced then sat in the shallows facing her. Tension tightened between them and Rusti dropped her eyes from him, anxious and ashamed.

"I can see something is bothering you, Rusti. can I help?"

Her anxiety set her nerves on edge and restricted her breathing. She bowed her head when her face ached with oncoming tears. "I..." her voice squeaked before she lost it. Air failed to fill her lungs completely. "I... um, I've been talking with, um," Her nerves stole her memory from her. Rusti closed her eyes and tried to remember the psychic's name.

Optimus kept his voice quiet and even. "You've been visiting chy-chaunam."

She wordlessly nodded.

"you want to tell me something."

Nod.

"Take your time, Sweetheart. It's not like I have any appointments today."

She relaxed just a little and found a strand of courage strong enough to let her face him. "The nightmares," she tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. "Eighteen months." Another deep breath helped. "you didn't tell me."

Optimus's gaze held steady on her before he nodded and looked to the water. "You're upset."

His words drained the anxiety from her veins and Rusti found her voice. "yes! All this time, all these months, even before the invasion, you had time and opportunity to say something-anything about what happened. But you kept it a secret! Why?! Don't you trust me? Do you think I'm that fragile, incapable of handling the truth?!" She paused while guilt crept into her heart. She didn't mean to yell at him. Taking to her feet, Rusti paced to the right and pressed her hand to her forehead. "I'm not mad that you did it, Optimus. I'm upset that you didn't tell me." She huffed, turned and paced left. "I mean, even if you didn't want to tell me yourself, you could have had someone else say something!" She froze in her tracks, eyes scrutinized his face. "I don't know how I"m supposed to feel about this. I don't know how to deal with it. I'm upset and..." tears left wet streaks on her cheeks and Rusti swallowed hard. She glanced at the afternoon sky then back to him. "Just talk to me."

Prime held quiet, gathering his words together like a bouquet of apologies. "I'm sorry that 'sorry' is flimsy, Rusti. I was... I was so ashamed." He too looked away. "You could have died. And at the time... I don't know how I would have reacted. I felt nothing when I-when I murdered Hosehead. I felt no sadness, no remorse, no guilt. I just watched as my own hands pulled him apart and..." Prime bowed his head, unable to look her in the eye. "and I turned cowardly. I thought it better that you did not remember, than to remember everything I did. I locked you into subspace. I tried to drown myself. I... watched Rodimus come for you knowing he was out to kill you."

Rusti's eyes shot wide and all air left her. She sank onto the bench, completely focused.

Optimus drew air yet refused to meet her eyes. "you are right. I should have said something."

The breeze brought silence between them. Rusti's head frantically searched for a response, a reaction or something to say. She sat there and kept working through the information, knowing she could choose to be angry about it or forgive him and move on with their relationship. She bit her lower lip. "I remember," she said at length, "I remember you tried to drown yourself. You scared me shitless, Optimus. I didn't think about anything else. I just dove straight into the water. I couldn't let you die. I remember waking up and they told me they had to shock me back to life."

Again the quiet rested between them. Birds sang and flew from tree to tree. The breeze picked up then died off. When Rusti spoke again, her voice returned to normal, leveled and rational. "What happens now? What do we do?"

"I make a promise never to hold secrets between us," Optimus replied in a similar quiet tone. "Then you... stare at me to make sure I'm not lying. Then I stare back in such a manner that you believe me. Then you inwardly remind yourself to tattle on me to Rodimus who will most likely lecture me with several 'I-told-you-so's'."

"Oh." Rusti blinked, uncommitted. "I was thinking more along the lines of a picnic."

Optimus leaned forward. "I'm going to learn to play an instrument."

Rusti glued her tongue to her upper right molar. "You mean something other than a control panel?"

"Very droll of you, my dear. No. I want to make music. Put you to sleep or make you laugh... sing-"

"Roddi's the singer, Op."

"I can sing!" he insisted. "...if I put my mind to it."

"you mean like the Eeyore song?"

"THAT... is something I don't even remember."

Rusti giggled. "yeah, well, you weren't exactly yourself at the time."

"Why?" Optimus asked innocently. "Was I drunk?"

Rusti spotted the Mozart smoke through the trees. She thought it odd the ship's personality came to her rather than simply contacting her. "What's wrong?"

Prime saw nothing, yet she clearly was not speaking to him. "Nothing's wrong," he answered clumsily.

Rusti flinched with surprise and turned to her love. "The Mozart says there's an intruder on board who just broke into auxiliary control." She looked back to the invisible figure. "can you identify the intruder?" She went quiet before turning to Prime. "It's a Paratron, but he's not listed as part of the Mozart's crew."

Before Rusti finished her sentence, Prime sprang from the water and transformed in two steps.

Unlike the Razor Lady, the Hannibal's Mark or the Vertical Horizon, the Sagittarian Mozart stood apart, just as it did on Bare Anches. The distance from the Razor Lady to the Sabor's claw spanned approximately eighty miles, considering each ship in the fleet stretched between three and five miles each and there stood an additional one to five miles apart. Even at the maddening speed of eighty miles an hour, Optimus did not reach the Sagittarian Mozart before a large group of Paratrons and Autobot officers assembled around the ship. Optimus braked just outside the ring to let Rusti out before he transformed.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

Strike Back barred the entrance at the mouth of the Mozart's plank. In one hand he held a modified reflex atomic destabilizer. In the other he tightly gripped cloudstreaker. She struggled once and he pointed the weapon to her head. "WE'RE LEAVING!" Strike Back shouted. "We're taking the Mozart and returning to our own homeworld!"

Rodimus caught up next and stood beside the Senior Prime. "Let her go, Strike Back!" he ordered. "You don't want to do this!"

"THE PITT I DON'T! We have ALL had enough of Autobot tyranny! We are Paratrons and deserve to live our lives as we choose, not to die in some war of which we want no part!"

"Fine!" Optimus answered. "You and whomever else wants to leave, may leave. But you are not taking any of the ships!"

cloudstreaker tried to make him loosen his hold round her neck. He tightened his grip and gasped in pain. "Optimus!" she cried, "You can't let them take the Mozart! It's already aligned! If they take it, the ship will create a wormhole straight to Earth!"

Both Primes softly swore.

Strike Back pointed his weapon at Galvatron when he and cyclonus joined the moment. "SHE'S LYING!" the paratron captain objected.

"I doubt that," Rodimus said quietly. He raised his voice so everyone heard: "Listen, Strike Back, you can't go home. Even if you were to land back to Earth, you know you don't have a home to return to."

"you think I'm stupid, Rodimus? Huh? cuz your IQ just dropped!"

"Three hundred years," Optimus reminded.

Rodimus smiled like a madman. "So, lemme get this straight: you plan to confiscate the Mozart with the intention of going to Paratron here in this time period?" He watched Strike Back shift his weight from one foot to the next then continued. "You and everyone here will be regarded as invaders, Strike Back. Think about it. When we met you, everyone on Paratron looked the same, thought the same. Perfect harmony, or so you believed, right? That makes you and your groupies aliens. You do not look like them. You will no longer talk like them and more than that, you will not think like them. We call that cross-cultural contamination. You will change the culture on your own world!"

"LIAR!"

Magnus barged out a hatch one level up and dropped on the rebel. His action knocked cloudstreaker free. She turned and raced into the ship. Magnus' attack also sparked the brawl. Paratron against Autobot, rebel verses authority. What started out as hand-to-hand combat escalated into an exchange of firepower.

A giant white hand swept her off the ground and Rusti exchanged eye contact with Paratron Drox. Her heart beat hard. "I'm just trying to get away." The mousiness in her voice made her sound pathetic.

"I know," Drox returned. "That's why I picked you up. Bargaining chips are hard to come by these days."

"Don't do something you'll regret later!"

Drox laughed. "As if you had any hope of freeing yourself!" He transformed into an all-terrain vehicle and swerved his way round one person, rammed into then over Farhen and sped straight up the plank. He shifted back to robot mode and held Rusti aloft. "I've got her!" he declared. Rusti eyed him with annoyance when no one paid attention. Drox brought her back to his face. "What's your name again?"

Rusti lifted her eyes toward the Mozart's stern. A panel popped itself open and a conjunction grappling hook and cable shot out. It whacked Drox in the head and left a lovely dent. He made a weird noise and fell, dropping Rusti beside him. She grunted with impact when she landed on her right hip. Breathing hard, she waited for the blunt-force pain to subside then slipped inside the doorway.

Two o'clock of her position, Rodimus spotted her. He sank his fist into Platinum's middle, glanced at her, spun back to the rebel and gripped him round the neck. "Rusti!" he called above the cacophony, "Rusti! Tell Cloudstreaker chalk Talk planted a bomb on the Mozart!"

"WHAT?! Are these people crazy!?"

Platinum grabbed Prime's leg and both landed hard. Rodimus punched the Paratron. Someone shot Rodimus' left shoulder. He flinched before Lift Off somersaulted and slammed into Prime with both feet.

Rusti gasped and pasted herself to the inner wall when Magnus lumbered up the plank dragging Strike Back with him. The former captain fought, squirmed and swore, but Magnus' grip only intensified. He smacked the nearest turbo lift and the minute the doors opened, he tossed Strike Back in and entered as the doors closed.

He didn't know about the bomb.

Rusti's bruised hip prevented her from running toward the bridge. She half-walked, half-limped her way toward the corridor when Cyclonus chased Negate into the entrance. Negate spun for a roundhouse kick but missed the Decepticon. Cyclonus returned the pathetic attempt with a powerhouse punch. Negate staggered back and with one more punch, toppled unconscious. Cyclonus examined his victim and caught Rusti when she moved toward him. "You shouldn't be here!" he admonished.

"Rodimus said there's a bomb on board. But I don't have my exosuit and can't call Cloudstreaker."

"The ship's comm systems are down. Where is the bomb?"

"uhh..." her eyes darted from wall to wall, expecting the Mozart to pop out of nowhere. But the ship itself churned inwardly, confused by the fighting. "Oh! the Mozart said there was an intruder in auxiliary control!"

Cyclonus pointed at her. "You get to the bridge. I'll take care of it."

Platinum, a rare Paratron triple changer, shifted to wolf mode, circled Rodimus and lept for the attack. Rodimus grabbed him about the neck and body-slammed the rebel. Platinum's form shifted to an air fighter and fired thrusters. Flying fifteen feet off the ground, he released a grappling hook and caught Prime about the legs. Rodimus smacked the ground and struggled for control as Platinum dragged him halfway toward the Mozart's bow. They cut through several Paratron-Autobot fights until Rodimus balanced himself on his back and shot the line between he and the flying Paratron.

Rodimus lay still, collecting himself before he sat up to remove the hook and cable. "Aw, crap," he swore. The hook sunk into his left leg and required surgery to remove. Roddi cut off the cable just as he heard Galvatron's call across the field. Rodimus stood and scanned the bedlam area. He found Optimus who punched, kicked and stunned his way toward the Mozart's tertiary hatch leading straight to the bridge. When Rodimus finally found Galvatron, the Decepticon grabbed a Paratron in a headlock and gave him a noogie.

A bladed object hit Rodimus in the middle of his back. Rodimus went down as his lasercore skipped. He rolled over and faced Imp and Linear. Linear bounced a vibro-axe in his hand while Imp spoke for both of them.

"Sorry, Roddi. Looks like you won't live to see us leave. We really did believe you about the Virus at first. But uh, Stike Back was right; you and Prime were both working with the Quintessons."

"What?" in spite of the hook digging further in his left leg and the fresh wound in his back, Rodimus laughed. "Oh, if only that were even half true. We'd be back on Earth, cozy and comfy and planning a christmas party. Too bad we won't be inviting you two pinheads. I'd make you into a pinata!" Using his arm weapons, Rodimus shot Imp in the face. Rodimus forced his aching body up. Lying on the ground: not so good an idea. As Imp fell, however, Linear jumped straight up. As he descended, Imp staggered upright and held his arms outward.

To Roddi's shock, the two Paratrons combined and lunged for him. "What the hell?!"

The duo-combiner drew an electro-axe and swung for Rodimus with all their might. Rodimus barely moved out of range. A set of retractable double-barreled blasters snapped into place over the combiner's shoulders and fired.

Rodimus dropped and slid several yards from the impact. Bleeding from too many places, the best he managed was to roll over and fire with gun and side-arms. The combiner roared with rage. Their axe increased in length and power. They staged for a mighty swing when someone attacked them from the back. The axe fell from their hands as they turned and greeted Galvatron's fist. The Paratron team bounced against the Mozart's hull and re-greeted Galvatron's fist. They smacked the ship again but regained footing and landed a right-cross. Galvatron took it with practiced ease and danced with the force. He rebounded with a blast from his weapon, almost point-blank in their center. The two split apart and dropped like trees. Imp lay offline while his brother/partner lunged for one more attempt. Galvatron sighed with loss of patience and gripped the punk with one hand. He slammed Linear on the ground like a doormat, hauled him up with the same hand and slammed him down again.

Rodimus trembled as he sat up and wiped blood from his mouth. Galvatron helped him to his feet and tugged him toward the plank. "come along, Roddi," he said quietly. "Let's get you to medbay before you turn into a puddle of goo."

Two yards shy of their destination, Galvatron heard a strange, deep hum radiate off the Mozart's outer hull. Layer by layer the ship turned transparent. Galvatron swiftly examined Rodimus and knew he had no choice but to take Rodimus inside. "Little further, Rodimus," he said, "Don't make me carry you again."

Galvatron heard Silverbolt call for him to get off the plank. The ship's colors drained to a strange light grey as he carried Rodimus into the turbolift.

Optimus headed for the bow and thereby the bridge but when the ship radiated strange energies, the Autobot leader realized the Mozart was preparing for warp drive. He transformed and swiftly climbed the Mozart's seventh-level maintenance deck. Prime transformed again and raced toward the stern even as the ship began to disappear. He increased speed to 120 and reached his goal in seven minutes. Prime transformed as the Mozart opened a passage straight to the engine room. Optimus rounded the particle coils and ran into Shark, the Mozart's head engineer. The coils vibrated hard and loud, forcing the two Autobots to communicate internally.

"It's on automatic!" Shark reported. "I don't know how they did it, but we're phasing into a frequency lightwave. We've been trying to shut it off, but all controls are either destroyed or locked up!"

cloudstreaker's frantic voice sounded over Prime's personal comm channel: "...did you hear me?! can anyone hear me?! I said all the systems are offline up here! All systems are offline-"

She screamed when an explosion boomed on the bridge then static followed. Optimus turned to Shark. Shark looked up before his body froze. Behind him Prime watched as all solid matter faded. His own existence spread across the dimensions and somehow Optimus knew the Mozart no longer existed on Yolthanis III.