Ghost led them to their pick up point, her senses alive for ambush.

The dead said nothing, at ease with the situation.

Glancing at the video feed in the back, she noted tendrils extended from her protection target, repairing the external wounds, sealing so he lost no more energon.

The jar she had in the glove box wouldn't be a lot for him, but she knew it would help.

Once she was on the ship.

The barge softly glided from the river, coming to a stop at the dock, extending the reinforced boarding plank.

Ghost pulled in, then swung around a storage crate to pull into the hide, two storage crates modified to be one unit and allow a Cybertronian of Ratchet's height to stand. Braking so her nose nearly touched the wall, she opened her window, gestured to the load crew.

They sealed the crate, locking the doors into place. She opened the back of her vehicle, allowing Ratchet to exit if he so desired. She unbuckled, opened the glove box, gingerly picked up the jar of refined energon, then exited her vehicle. Moving silently, she paused beside the open back.

"I am Ghost. I have some energon if that would help you, CMO Ratchet, sir."

He backed out slowly, rolled to flat area, but didn't transform.

"Why are you helping me, human?" he snapped coldly.

She pulled off her skull painted mask, looked at him calmly, "Jazz adjusted his fall to crush me and not my children. They died in Chicago. They had seven more years than they would have each, if Jazz hadn't made a final choice to save many at the cost of one," the dead whispered to her, so she knelt, bracing so her bad leg didn't give, "I owe Optimus Prime and his mechs fourteen years of service or until my death to save two."


Ratchet couldn't process what was happening.

Her words, her actions, all pulled from old traditions of his people. Not hers.

Healed burns disfigured her face, pink against her dark brown skin, but it made her eyes blaze with the fire in her soul. The conviction to honor Jazz by offering her services to his leader and his team.

The jar of energon beckoned, so he scanned it.

Then scanned again, making Ghost shiver.

Pure. The last time he had pure energon was back on Cybertron during the golden age. Now he knew where it came from, he felt sick knowing a sun gave it's life to fill his tanks.

"How do you have that energon?" he asked.

"The government didn't secure the core machinery from the collector. Several of the tech inclined figured out how to make passive solar collectors. It takes weeks to make a jar this size, but can be done from a single roof top solar farm. We have many farms working."

Ratchet transformed slowly, both not to alarm her and to avoid reopening new welds.

He considered her, "Who are you? Why would you help us when humans hunt us?"

"I am Ghost, Hide-Specialist of the Furies. We help you for many reasons: Gratitude, love, unity, strength, hope, and above all the future. We are your allies when all others forget. We will never abandon you. We will scream our rage at those who do until they bend or break."

Her black eyes said she believed that to her core. She would die to protect him. Fight her own kind to ensure his survival.

"Optimus Prime would need to accept your oath to make it binding," he said softly, his scanners picking up the other femmes of the team in containers nearby.

She nodded, "The dead said to expect that."

Considering her as she replaced her form fitted mask, he scanned her deeply.

No obvious medical explanations for her statement, but he couldn't disavow her having a connection to the dead.

He'd seen his own kind with such gifts.

She offered the jar, "If you need more energon, we can ensure more is ready at the safe house."

He took the jar, connecting it to his reserve tank, "I would appreciate having my tanks full. Can sixty of these jars be made available?"

She bowed her head, "I will start the chain."

Stiffly, she stood, her weakened leg nearly giving, but she ignored it, walking back to the front of her vehicle.

She switched frequencies, added a new encryption, also easily broken by him, before saying, "The children at Orphanage Nurse needs sixty meals. Can we count on your assistance?"

A voice he recognized and longed for replied, "We have shipments on the way for eighty along with toys. We look forward to the smiles of the children."

Maggie. His spark pulsed as he realized she'd never left them. This ally had laid a foundation of a new support. Not all humans were against them.