Author's note: I intended to put this up about a week after the first chapter, but my schedule has been one of woe. To anyone and everyone still reading, thank you! Reviews are still hugely appreciated, but first here is chapter two, containing speeches and hopefully fun.


Chapter Two: Commitment Issues

Megatron stared at his broken ship with an expression to make the guilty tremble.

Some of them did.

Scourge stood by, calmly intent, ignoring the others behind him. All his attention was on Megatron as the giant Predacon moved forward, running hands over the cracked piping, leaving trails in the layer of grime. Orange-red optics glowed thoughtfully in the gloom.

Abruptly Megatron covered his optics with a sigh of deepest despair, and Scourge wondered (perhaps treasonously) what would happen if his sludgy fingers smeared his face.

"Sky-byte," Megatron snapped, lowering his hand, "you and the Predacons will get this cleaned out – all of it, now! Scourge, Mega-Octane, have Movor begin locating supplies, and cover up the base." Decepticons and Predacons alike scattered to obey as he rounded on them with an expression darker than Scourge's own colours. Scourge bowed silently, and then followed suit.

There wasn't much to the camouflage-field. It was basically a combined hologram and forcefield: set up properly and projected over the ship, it would let the purple and blue mass blend in with the grass and dirt that covered so much of this planet. It would keep the rain from any external repairs jobs, keep birds away from the sensors, and keep prying sky spies out of their business.

A couple of the field generators had been damaged before Scourge and his troops came online… but obviously they were functional again: Mega-Octane and the others began setting them up as he briefed Movor.

"So what am I looking for?" the shuttle asked.

"Anything," said Scourge. "Megatron wants us to start identifying potential supplies."

"Can't you be a bit more specific?"

"We don't know the extent of the damage yet."

"So you're asking me to find you anything and everything. Talk about your wish lists…"

Scourge's optics narrowed. "Do-"

At that moment Mega-Octane chipped in. "Movor, shut up and get on with it."

"All right, yes sir!" And the blasted little shuttle practically saluted over the line.

Scourge looked over to where Mega-Octane was setting down another crate. The green bot coughed in apology.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt, commander," he said, under the glare of Scourge's optics. To his credit, he actually sounded sincere.

Scourge's voice was low and clear. "Give orders in my place again," he promised, "and you will be."


He hadn't thought it would come to this…

He wasn't given to attaching sentiment to his tools. And the Megastar was, after all, just a ship.

On the other hand… it had been his ship through conquest after conquest, had hurled him victoriously from planet to planet to this mudball. He'd guided it through asteroid field and cannon fire, spent weeks repairing minor damages, muttered dire things into the darkness of its command room. He'd had time to put a part of himself into it, in more ways than one.

It was a huge investment. He didn't want to imagine how the Elders would respond if he called from hiding to say that he'd lost it. Denying him any further assistance would be the least of it.

Megatron glared at the screen, knowing from the room's sensors when each of his underlings arrived. Movor was already waiting on the other end of the comlink. Megatron didn't mind that for the shuttle, but he wanted to see the others in person.

The Decepticons came promptly, without wasting time; Sky-byte didn't dare to dawdle; the other Predacons didn't seem worried. Megatron swung his chair around as the last of them trudged in, waiting impatiently until they stood before him.

"We have reached a crisis point in our operations," he said, as soon as they were listening. "The damage to the ship's engines has become critical. Until it is repaired, our mobile command centre is immobilised." He paused.

"But that puts us in an extremely vulnerable position. If the Autobots' spies were to find us now, we would have no way to run, and," his expression darkened as he admitted it, "with our energy levels so low, we would almost certainly lose our base."

"Well, we could always find a new one, right?" Gasskunk said. He cringed as most of the room turned withering looks on him. "Wrong?"

Megatron growled. "I don't think you quite understand the severity of our problem..." He shifted into dragon mode and advanced a couple of steps. One head bore down on the hapless Predacon; the other he raised, addressing the room in general. "The Megastar's shielding hides you from the Autobots, the converters supply you with energon, the repair bay keeps your sorry shells in one piece. This base is our lifeline, our shelter, and our last line of defence Without it, you might as well turn yourselves in to the Autobots now!"

Gasskunk shrank back, but he wasn't the only one. Megatron let that sink in for a moment, inwardly pleased. At least they weren't suicidal.

"Scourge, I want Mega-Octane and Armorhide here: they're to assess the damage and report back to me. You and the rest may begin collecting the energy we need. You will be quiet about it. You will not draw attention. The Autobots will not find out what we're up to. And I will not tolerate any of you doing anything to sabotage my plans. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"Right!"

"Got it!"


"It's not going to work," was Movor's pronouncement, once he'd been surface-side long enough to refuel and rejoin the others on the lower decks. "There's no way the Preds are just gonna shut up and do their job 'cause Megatron told 'em. Remember last time?"

The other three peered at him through the gloom of the engineering section. Some parts of it still weren't clean enough to work with, and the Decepticons had homed in on them. 'You've missed a bit' wasn't their usual style, but they were fast learners.

"Which last time?" asked Armorhide.

Ro-tor shrugged. "They were all the same."

Armorhide snorted at him. "That's what I meant."

"Well, the job's gotta get done whether they like it or not," Rollbar mused, chiselling off a lump of solidified muck.

"So what do we do?" Ro-tor asked.

"What're we supposed to do?" Movor shook his head. "Get on with our job and let them get it through the lasercore if they don't."

"We can't just let them ruin our mission," Armorhide objected.

"Right," agreed Rollbar. "I bet Optimus Prime would just love to get his hands on the base. 'Specially after the way we left him last time." He looked around at the others as they grimaced. Learning that Optimus Prime could turn literally incandescent with rage had left an… impression.

Movor groaned. "So what, maybe if we ask them nicely, they'll stay out of our way and do what they're supposed to?"

"Armorhide!" Scourge leapt down from the level above and approached, a sharp-edged set of shadows in the low blue lights. The smaller Decepticons turned and spread out to make room for their leader. "You and Mega-Octane will begin the work here," he said, before his gaze shifted to the others. "The rest of you, with me. The humans have some energy waiting for us."

"Yes sir!"


The Autobots' energy-generating facilities largely ran themselves, under T-AI's supervision and with a weekly security inspection by the Spychangers. The Build Team ran the regular maintenance, of course, but REV didn't have to worry about that. He was more concerned with the layout of the site, what its defence systems were like, and its location nestled among steep, windswept hillocks with as much rock showing as there was grass.

Or he was supposed to be. It wasn't easy to concentrate on all that with Optimus's warning on his mind.

He tried to shake it, following Hotshot along the front of the main building. The Spychangers' leader wasn't always easy to read, but he definitely looked subdued himself. Ahead of them, Mirage leaned back from the camera he was checking. "Thirty-seven looks all right from here," REV heard him say over the radio as he peered into the lens. "How about on your end, Ironhide? Can you see this?"

Ironhide transmitted a distress signal.

"Very funny." Mirage gestured into the camera.

"Now there's a hand signal I don't remember approving," said Hotshot. Mirage twisted on his stepladder, giving a sheepish chuckle as he faced his leader.

"Uh, no. That was… improvisation."

Hotshot nodded and kept strolling, spark not in the banter. Mirage looked at REV curiously, then jumped down from the ladder and followed them. REV didn't give so much as a radio whisper in answer to the marksman's unspoken question. He and Hotshot were both wondering how to tell the others about their new timeframe, but at the end of the day it was the unit leader's decision. REV would wait on it.

"How's your progress?"

"It's all looking good so far," said Crosswise from further along the wall. "The defence systems are up to scratch, and T-AI's link to the computer is working fine."

"We've got a few more cameras to check, but almost all the rest are clear," Mirage added. "W.A.R.S. is replacing one of them."

"Why? What happened to it?"

"We're not quite sure," Crosswise said. "It's a tie between birds and storm damage, though personally I'm betting on both. Nothing suspicious."

"Normally, I'd say 'good', but at least if the Predacons were behind it we'd know where they were targeting," Hotshot sighed. "Have you tested the fire alarms yet?"

Crosswise chuckled as they turned the corner. "No. You can go ahead and-"

Their comlinks activated at the same time. "Heads up!" Ironhide yelled.

REV spun with the others; Sky-byte was charging out from the hillocks in robot-mode. The other Predacons were close behind him, transforming from their beast modes as they came.

"I hate Predacons," he said wearily, drawing his blaster. He moved away to the side so he'd have room to fire.

Hotshot looked back at him, visor alight. "This could be our chance," he said, voice low and urgent before he spun back and sprang forward. He planted himself directly in the oncoming Predacons' path and fired a couple of warning shots at the ground in front of them. The mismatched gang skidded to an irregular halt as the other Spychangers joined him.

"Bad luck, Sky-byte. This facility is protected." Hotshot raised his blaster.

"So why don't you protect yourselves and get outta here?" Crosswise added.

"You know, he's got a point…" REV heard Gasskunk mutter.

"I didn't come all the way out here to let some lightweight Autobots get in my way," Sky-byte snapped. The centre of his chest glowed for a moment as energy gathered there. "Tsunami blaster!"

Hotshot leapt aside as the blast roared past him. REV and the others took that as their cue to open fire. With any luck, they could keep the trio too busy to ready their lasers-

"Slag," Ironhide said from the control room. "Sky-byte just hit a conversion unit. W.A.R.S. is almost with you. Give me a minute to check the damage..."

"You're already outnumbered, Sky-byte," REV yelled, landing a shot to the shark-bot's chest. Sky-byte yelled in pain and staggered back. "Time to give it up and go home!"

"…Yep, that's on fire."

"Yeah!" W.A.R.S. appeared over the roof and jumped down, machine gun at the ready. "And here's a little going-away present!" The Predacons backed away under the renewed assault, and Slapper shouted something about Megatron.

Sky-byte fired another shot, then leapt into the air, transforming. "Retreat!"

"Are we going after them?" W.A.R.S. asked, already shifting to vehicle mode.

"Now's our chance, Hotshot," REV agreed, looking around at his leader. Hotshot was running back towards the building. Sky-byte's blast had left a hole in the wall, and a thickening plume of smoke was wafting from it.

"Go ahead!" the black Spychanger called back. "I'll deal with the fire!"

"Roger!" REV transformed, Crosswise and Mirage following suit. The yellow car leapt ahead the instant his tyres hit the ground. They surged after the retreating Predacons. "Let's go to stealth-mode, guys," said REV. "They don't need to know we're tagging along."

The others radioed confirmation, and REV saw them fade from view as he activated his own cloak. He accelerated as the first drumlin came up and bounded onto it, his wheels catching the turf and propelling him over the lumpy little hill. He could see Sky-byte ahead – and then the downslope coming up – and again he shot forward and leapt onto the next height. It was faster than trying to scramble around them – Spychangers or not, most of them weren't built to handle this kind of terrain.

Another leap, and then he cursed internally as the Predacons disappeared from his sensors.

"They're not showing on the scanners," Mirage reported a second later.

"Happens every time," REV said, speeding up to try and re-establish sensor contact. Somehow – maddeningly – the Predacons up ahead were pulling away. "Blasted beast modes. They're not even out of sight yet. Come on guys, we've got to make up this lead!"

"I'm trying," Crosswise responded, "but I can barely keep them in sight. Where's X-Brawn when you need him?"

"I see 'em," REV said grimly, throwing himself forward with a muffled roar from his engine. He leapt, he raced, he scrambled like no Earth-made car ever could. He was always determined; today he was desperate, but as he pulled himself up to the top of a drumlin and found the Predacons nowhere in sight, he had to admit that this pursuit was lost.


Cleaning was far too menial a task for Decepticons. Especially when there were thefts to organise and repairs to effect. Most especially when there were enemies to destroy (and there were always enemies to destroy). It was disgusting, and time-consuming, and Mega-Octane had just washed. He had better things to do than chores a browbeaten Predacon would balk at.

There were other options. The Megastar had cleaning drones. Mega-Octane had known that for a while, though he'd never seen one operational and couldn't remember how he'd picked up the information. Until now, it hadn't been important.

He hefted the two dull grey machines in his arms as the door rattled open, letting the view – and the smell – of the next engineering section through. He tramped through and set the drones down next to where Armorhide was squatting and poking at the inside of a console.

The tank-former glanced round and gave a respectful nod, then looked at the drones. "Good idea. Don't want to waste our time on drone-work."

"They're old, but they seem to be functional." Mega-Octane nudged one with his foot, then brought the little spider-like mechanism online remotely. There was a whine as it powered up, and then a faint grinding as stiff joints were forced to move. It stood stiffly, scanning its surroundings as the Decepticons watched. Then it turned to the other drone and began to polish it.

"Huh." Armorhide turned back to his work without indicating what that was supposed to mean. Mega-Octane frowned and directed the drone to work on the rest of the room. Once it had moved away, he brought the other, vaguely crab-shaped model online and told it to clean the floor.

"Scourge and the others are already gone," Armorhide told him. "And I haven't seen the Predacons' ugly faceplates since I got here."

"No. They've taken off on their own again. No doubt they'll ruin every plan we make, running loose like that." Mega-Octane scrutinised the equipment grimly. Just what was he supposed to do with that mess? He was trained for basic repairs, not warp engineering.

He shook his head. The question wasn't whether he would do it, only how. With the others to help him he could do it. He'd need the time and concentration. And some efficient help.

"We'd be better off if we could co-ordinate our attacks with the Predacons'..." he thought out loud.

Armorhide snorted. "Good luck with that."

The truck-former glanced at him sharply. "I'm open to suggestions." It wasn't something he'd ever been heard to say before, even in that tone of voice. Suggestions were given, and taken or dismissed without particular recognition of whose they'd been to start with.

Armorhide paused for a moment. "Yeah, Movor suggested we ask 'em nicely." He started sorting a pile of wires into 'obviously useless' and 'possibly OK'. "He keeps up the sarcasm, he's gonna corrode his own motherboard."

Mega-Octane stopped in his scan, thinking. "They are Predacons."

"I know, that's why-" Armorhide broke off and frowned. "Are you saying that could actually work?"

The other Decepticon snorted, crouching down to detach a corroded circuit board and toss it into the scrap pile. "Done right, perhaps. But it'd have to be worth our while."

"Yeah." Behind him, Armorhide thump the console casing to loosen some of the rust inside. "You'd have to be desperate to try making friends with a Predacon."

Unseen, Mega-Octane glanced around at the disaster zone and hesitated.


The fires were all but gone when they returned to the generator plant. It was hard to tell, though: even outside the air was filled with the wail of alarms and the smell of burned plastic. REV left the others running to turn the sound off and went inside.

He found Hotshot in time to see the black Spychanger gesture at a small blaze. The flames began to curl in on themselves, caught in his energy fields; for a few seconds the fire dwindled steadily, and then extinguished. Hotshot watched it as REV approached behind him.

That must have been the last of them, he thought, as the alarms began to quieten. "At least we know they work."

Hotshot turned, rubbing his head. "Believe me, I've noticed," he said, louder than necessary. "Any thoughts on this little run-in?"

"Add it to last week's attacks and they're definitely stepping up the pace," Crosswise said as he walked in. "I wonder what Megatron's planning this time."

"Maybe he's moving his base again," REV pointed out. "Or he's just speeding things up now that he knows what the Decepticons can do."

"It could be that simple." Hotshot looked around at the mess. "On the other hand, we don't want him blindsiding us with another mega-laser. Either way, we're back to the problem of tracking him down."

Crosswise sighed. "There's just too much we don't know. All we've got is 'they need energy and they need it badly'. Sure, it's got to come from somewhere, but on a planet like this, there's no shortage of opportunities."

"Except for us." Hotshot's visor dimmed as the others looked at him. "I need to have a talk with the team, Crosswise. Optimus gave us some news that all of us need to hear."

Crosswise nodded slowly. He looked at the scattered bits of rubble and singed console. "Got it. But it can wait till we get this place cleaned up, can't it?"

Hotshot slapped his forehead. "I knew there was something I was trying to forget."


"Another failure," Sky-byte sighed mournfully, shoulders slumping as he paced in circles. The Megastar's grim lighting made it a good place to wallow in one's own misery, without any sunlight or noises (or, Primus forbid, birds) to distract him from his sorrow.

"If I could defeat the Autobots at a time like this, Megatron wouldn't have any time for Scourge. But how can I- gyah!" He staggered and doubled over, sparks flying from his injured chest.

"You should probably get that looked at," Slapper said, emerging from a side passage.

"You're not… kidding," Sky-byte ground out, one hand over the damage. "Argh!"

"Sky-byte!" Mega-Octane's voice made the shark-bot jump and turn around. The Decepticon approached. "There you are. We need to talk."

Sky-byte turned and moved away. "Not now, Mega-Octane! I've got a little problem of my own to-"

The Decepticon's hand clamped onto his shoulder. He turned his head to look, and met the masked face hovering over him. "Slapper, get back to work. I'll fix that."

Sky-byte growled, but before he knew it, he was sitting sullenly on a workbench, allowing the Decepticon to repair his damages. It was the damage, he decided. He'd never have allowed Mega-Octane to push him around otherwise.

His initial surprise soon wore off. Of course Mega-Octane would take the opportunity to rub his nose in his failure. He seethed, although the low remarks and comments never came. He waited more, and still the only sounds were the whine of tools being used and the harsh clatter as they were put aside.

Ah, of course, that was it. He hadn't said anything because he was busy laughing to himself.

If he thinks he can just stand there smirking at me, he's got another thing coming, Sky-byte thought, glaring suspiciously at the Decepticon as he moved around the front. He didn't look like he was smirking, but how could you tell?

Mega-Octane straightened up, about to speak. Sky-byte's gaze snapped his way with a pre-emptive glare. "There. It's done," said the Decepticon heedlessly.

Sky-byte scowled and sprang to his feet. "All right: what's this about, Decepticon? I warn you, don't waste my time."

Mega-Octane sighed. "You heard what Megatron said earlier. Our position is extremely vulnerable. We haven't got the time or the energy to waste by carrying on as we usually do."

"And what is your point?"

"If we keep fighting among ourselves, none of us are going to come out of this alive." He paused, then carried on, stiffly, "I want to call a truce, at least until the Megastar is operational again. We're only going to solve this if we work as a team, Predacons and Decepticons together."

Sky-byte listened, surprised and… gleeful. After all this, the mighty Decepticons come to seek a truce! Hah! And how do you like it now that you're the ones doing the asking?

"Hmmm," he said, posing thoughtfully. Mega-Octane shifted slightly, the first clear sign of discomfort he'd given. "A team? My Predacons and your Decepticons?"

"Yes."

The shark-bot scratched his chin. "Maybe… no. He smiled, and turned to go.

Mega-Octane responded immediately. "Hold on a minute, Sky-byte," he said urgently. "Think about it for a minute. We Decepticons were created as your allies – to provide the skills and the firepower you didn't already have. We and the Predacons were never meant to be enemies. But we've allowed an unfortunate misunderstanding-"

"You fired on us!"

Mega-Octane's visor flickered. "You fired on Scourge."

"Bah." Sky-byte scowled, caught out by inconvenient fact. He waved the hand with his shark spike. "I can't be asked to remember all that."

"An unfortunate misunderstanding," repeated Mega-Octane, determined to drive the words home. "And we've allowed it to drive a wedge between us."

Sky-byte frowned. "Do you mean literally or-"

Mega-Octane cut him off, extending an open hand towards him in a gesture that caught the Predacon off-guard as much as his request had. Sky-byte drew back and eyed it warily. "This is the perfect opportunity to rebuild what we've lost," the Decepticon said, a little more quietly. "If we can pull together and combine our strengths, we really would be the lethal force Megatron intended us to be. With our strength and your… creativity, we would be unstoppable. We'd have the Megastar back online and back in action before Megatron could say 'terrorise'."

"Working together? United under one banner?" Sky-byte mused. The idea appealed to his inner artist's finely-tuned sense of drama, but…

"Yes." Mega-Octane hesitated for a second. "As equal partners."

"Do you expect me to trust you?" Sky-byte put his hands on hips and sneered at the Decepticon. "Hah! You Decepticons have done nothing but get in my way since you arrived, and now you want us to be good little Predacons and help you, while you take all the credit!"

"Weren't you listening to a word I said?" Mega-Octane snapped. "This situation is different!"

"Oh really? Just because the base breaks down, now you want to buddy up like scared little Autobots? "

"This is serious, Sky-byte! We have to put an end to this squabbling or we'll all suffer!"

"I don't think so," Sky-byte replied with a growing smirk. Oh, he would enjoy this. A chance to snub Scourge and his lackeys didn't come around every day. How sweet the turn of fortune's wheel, indeed… whoever said that. "You think I'm so gullible, don't you? Well, let this be a lesson, Decepticon! You can't dupe a shark!" He threw back his head, laughing in victorious glee at Mega-Octane's faceplate just before he turned his back.

There came an indistinct "Gah!" and the ringing sound of a metallic impact from behind him. Sky-byte gave a delighted chortle and went on about his suddenly much merrier day.


Spychanger HQ was home to an elite unit, stationed on Earth just long enough to have a sense of it as their turf, used to an exceptionally high rate of mission success, highly motivated, highly skilled, and highly aware of their ability to completely defy natural odds.

It did not make a receptive environment for Hotshot's announcement.

"I can't believe they're going to pull us off the search," W.A.R.S. growled.

"It's only temporary," said REV. He stood by the main console, watching the others' reactions where they were scattered around the room. The computers were unusually silent: T-AI was omnipresent in the Autobot bases, but the AI had the wisdom to stay out of some discussions. "If T-AI can get anything out of that microchip…"

"Optimus is right, though," Ironhide said reluctantly. "We've got other responsibilities: we can't ignore them either."

W.A.R.S. twisted the empty can in his hands until the metal tore, drawing a wary stare from Crosswise. "I understand why." He threw the pieces into the waste chute across the room. "I don't have to like it. Doctor Onishi's in danger every minute we don't find him."

Mirage spoke up. "I'm with W.A.R.S. on this. We've been searching for him this long, it doesn't feel right to just walk away."

"I know," said Hotshot. "And it's not only about saving a life. If the doctor is still alive, the information he has makes him a dangerous weapon for Megatron."

"Exactly!" W.A.R.S. looked around at them, optics flaring red. REV's liking for the way the team was taking this dropped about six notches. "Didn't T-AI say the Decepticons were attacking a plant right now?"

"Kinda proves Optimus's point, doesn't it?" said Crosswise quietly. They were silent for a few minutes. REV sighed to himself. He was tired, and somewhere between the complaints, the argument and the feeling of failure, apathy had settled lightly on his shoulders like a blanket of fallen ash.

"We always knew the risks were high for the doctor," Hotshot said into the silence. "There was no guarantee we'd find him."

"But we're Spychangers," Mirage said, frustration marring his low voice. "We're the best there is."

"We are." Hotshot told him, and REV could hear from his voice that he believed it. "And Optimus knows we are, too. But sometimes doing your job well means knowing when to pull out and go where you're needed most."

Hotshot gave that exactly half a second to sink in. Then he looked directly at REV and gestured for him to come over. "That said, we're not out of time yet." His optic visor narrowed and brightened in a grim smile. "And neither is Doctor Onishi."

"We don't even know how long we've got left," REV said, finding himself walking toward the table before he knew it. He looked up at Hotshot, and gave up any ideas of protesting. He keyed the hologram display on. "…So if we want a last shot at saving anyone, we've got to come up with it fast."


The Autobots believed they had won. For now, he was required to allow them that, and it grated on Scourge's circuits. Knowing that he and his troops had succeeded in getting part of the energy they had hoped for (and most of what he'd expected them to obtain) was small consolation. It certainly didn't make up for Sideburn's cocky whooping as they pulled out.

So although when he came into the primary engine room, Ro-tor and Rollbar were carrying full tanks, Scourge was not in a particularly good mood.

Armorhide was the only one in sight. He stood to attention as Scourge approached. The room seemed substantially cleaner than when they'd left, the black Decepticon noticed. Probably because most of the dirt had transferred itself onto Armorhide.

"We've brought more energy to add to the converters," he said, sweeping an arm around to gesture at the two behind him. "What progress have you made?"

"Well, enough of the sludge is gone that we can start to really get to work," Armorhide informed him.

"Don't tell me you spent this whole time scrubbing," Ro-tor said.

Armorhide glanced past Scourge at him. "Yeah, right. Mega-Octane had the bright idea to fix up some drones and get them to do the job."

"Really," said Scourge. Their attention shifted back to him. "How thoughtful of him."

"Pretty smart," Armorhide agreed. "We've started taking the place apart and stripping out the junk. There's a list of parts we need already."

Scourge gave a nod. Wonderful. Now we have ourselves a shopping list. "Where is Mega-Octane?"

"With Sky-byte. Mega-Octane wants to talk to him alone."

Scourge stilled, gaze sharpening as he stared at him. "What?"

Armorhide's visor flickered, the grubby tank-bot shifting with uncustomary wariness. "They went up to the repair bay."

Scourge turned, Ro-tor and Rollbar stepping back before him. They stared at him over the tops of their armloads. "Deal with those," he snapped, storming between them and out of the room, intent on hunting Mega-Octane down and wringing an explanation from him. What has he been playing at in my absence?

He found his target a second after he stepped from the elevator. Mega-Octane was approaching, obviously on his way back to work. Disappointing that Sky-byte wasn't there to explain himself, but Mega-Octane would do. He halted and gave his commander a nod. "Sir."

Scourge didn't slow as he drew near, moving forward swift as a falling blade until he stopped, just at the point where he was too close for comfort. (But no closer, because he wanted room to throttle the other mech if it came up, and also to avoid having to tilt his head back too far to look up at Mega-Octane.)

"What have you been doing?" he demanded. The taller mech hesitated, obviously aware that he should tread cautiously. Scourge's annoyance sharpened into suspicion.

"We've made progress on the repair work," Mega-Octane said. "And I've just had a talk with Sky-byte. His little scheme was a disaster: without repairs to his arm he'd have been totally useless. Next time I'll just leave him crippled," he added with a growl.

"Pathetic," Scourge said, his voice purring with contemptuous satisfaction. "So instead you spared a mega-cycle to tend to his suffering. How compassionate." Mega-Octane's gaze snapped up to meet his. Scourge snorted. "Just what were you trying to do with that scrapyard reject?"

"I was thinking we could get the Predacons out of our way for a while. If Sky-byte was convinced we were on his side, he might actually stop interfering with us…" Mega-Octane scowled. "I should have known better than to expect reason from a two-bit tuna."

"I could have told you that." Scourge relaxed, mollified by the other's failure as much as the explanation. "Keep to the orders you've been given instead of wasting our time. Now, show me the materials we need…"

Typical of Mega-Octane to try the 'diplomatic' approach, even after the fiasco that had come of pretending to defect. Perhaps his little bout of initiative was nothing to be concerned about, after that. He had to have known how well Scourge would like his idea.

Or perhaps, after the last time, Mega-Octane didn't trust him with it.

Busy with his report, the other Decepticon didn't notice Scourge's optics narrow beneath his helm.


He had no idea how long it had been. He was barely ever awake now: he drifted through hazy awareness and true oblivion, half-formed dreams and occasional wakefulness. That was mostly when they left him food, and all his concentration was on making himself force down what he wasn't hungry for, swallow the stinking water despite his closed throat. For a while the aches and the stiffness had become so numbing he'd tried to let himself forget he could feel anything at all. He was grateful for them now. He'd decided they were good reminders that the world was real.

He didn't have time to think – time, or strength. He ate and he curled up in the darkness, not wanting to sleep, too weak to do anything with his awareness. The room he was in – a room or a box, he wasn't sure – was solid metal. They'd thrown in some blankets, but it was still cold and hard beneath them. Sometimes he took off his coat and balled it up into a pillow. He acted without thinking, didn't stop to ask why or whether it was worth it. He kept going.

He had to keep fighting. He remembered that, held onto that, among other things. He struggled even to open the tins of food now. It felt pathetic, but he needed it. He needed all the strength he could keep.

Often his captors seemed to forget about him, and even in his exhausted state, that made him despair. They always came in the end, though, to throw something in or to drag him back to the light and the sickening, lulling hum and the questions. There was a machine, he was aware, to which they brought him to when they tried to open his mind for the knowledge they wanted.

He wouldn't give it to them. At first he'd been determined not to surrender to them, not to give the monsters what they needed to destroy his world and his home. His determination had been fierce. Now he was just so tired. He almost wondered if the outside world was real, and in a detached way he thought that that might be where other people would fall. If you began to think that none of your old life was really real, if you let yourself think that this seesaw of waking and dreaming, the cold and the metal and the dull ache in head and bone and throat was all there was and nothing more… it would be easy to give them what they wanted, then. Easy to betray a world that wasn't real to you, any more.

He might have fallen for that, if he hadn't been so close to it. If he hadn't seen so much of his world and been sure of its reality – if he hadn't felt sun-warmed rock under his hands and gravity tugging at his back – the warm, damp smell of the rainforest – tracing ancient carvings with his fingers – a roar and a cold burst of spray above white-painted railings – the taste of overcooked squid – green ice and glowing blue feathers-

Laughter from his wife, showing his son how to pump up his bike's tyres-

He was certain they were real. He held onto them.

Sometimes, as now, when he could think, he buried himself in memory, and reminded himself that all of this had happened. He had suffered before for his work, hadn't he? He could survive for more.

Sometimes he wondered if anyone was looking for him. He wondered where they should look. If they knew he was alive.

He wouldn't give in to his captors. He wouldn't give them what he wanted. His mind was so clenched in refusal, it was possible he couldn't help them if he wanted to.

Kenneth Onishi survived. That was all.