The Colonel forced himself to eat despite the churning in his stomach, spooning as much of the grey rations as he could into his mouth. He chewed methodically, not really tasting anything; which was a mercy. His good eye scanned the crowd again, then darted back to the door. He kept waiting to see Spark's blonde head bobbing and weaving about among the others, kept waiting to see some kind of movement to indicate her arrival. He'd taken the table closest to the door for just that purpose.

Spark had not returned that entire morning; it was already lunchtime, and still she was not back. The Colonel had been forced to take her station (aided by Boss and Exile) and cover for her the rest of the day. Not that the Decepticons really cared about one missing human; the humans went missing all the time. And most of the time, it was the Decepticons' fault.

The door opened; the Colonel sat up straight, and sighed in relief as a furious-looking figure stalked through the door. She took long, loping strides, like she was trying to take off running without being noticed, and her hair trailed in front of her face, half-hiding it. Without the suit, she seemed a lot smaller, thinner, with her joints a bit more prominent. As she tried to pass by him, he gripped her arm tightly. She whirled to him, fire in her eyes, but it died down when she recognized him. Quickly, she looked away.

"Hey," he said gently. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "I had a stern 'talking-to'. What do you think happened?"

Always hiding behind her hostility. The Colonel rolled his eyes and stood. Spark turned her face to the side, hiding it beneath her hair. "Look, I've got to get something to eat before they put me back on duty."

The Colonel frowned slightly, then slowly reached forwards. She stiffened as his hand brushed her hair back, but allowed the action. He tucked the blonde strands behind her ear, then sighed slowly, lowering his hand and releasing her arm. "Oh, Sparky…"

She smiled wryly; the action looked painful, and drew blood from the corner of her lip where it had split open. "It's not that bad," She said, carefully wiping away the red that dribbled down her chin. A nasty, soon-to-be-bruise ringed her face around her forehead, eye, and cheekbone, and a cut ran along her jaw line. The Colonel frowned at her, and she said reassuringly, "I'm fine. Really."

"You don't look fine," The Colonel answered darkly. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. They decided to 'teach me a lesson'. There was nothing I could do."

"Don't lie to me." He ordered sternly, trying to look her in the eye and failing. She turned to him at last; and that's when he saw it. Just the faintest touch of blue behind her eyes… His own eyes widened. "You didn't lose it again, did you?" He asked, lowering his voice.

Spark didn't answer. She simply looked away. The Colonel took a step back. "You did," he breathed in horror.

Her face turned stony. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Spark…"

"They're coming back."

"What?"

Spark turned away, walking off swiftly, not giving him a response. She went into the lunch line and managed to get her share of the rations just before it closed. The Colonel watched her, sitting down again, his mind buzzing. They're coming back? They are coming back?

No. It couldn't be them…

As Spark lowered herself into the seat next to him, she took a large bite of her own disgustingly grey food. She looked as sick as he felt. "You don't mean the…?" he said in a whisper, pulling her back to the conversation. He glanced around the room and ducked his head close to her, speaking so low that he was only mouthing the word, with only the 't' and 'b' sounds anywhere close to audible. "Autobots?"

Spark scowled. "That's exactly what I mean." She choked down another mouthful of food. The Colonel felt the blood rush from his face.

"No," he shook his head back and forth quickly, denial written all over his features. "They can't be coming back. It can't be. They wouldn't do that! Not… not again…" He looked down at the mush on his plate, and pushed it away. Suddenly, it seemed that no thoughts of starving to death could make him even touch that plate again.

"They wouldn't," Spark agreed savagely, stabbing the mush on her plate with a plastic spork. "But they are."

"Maybe… maybe you were wrong, I mean, it could have been an old transmission or something, maybe the Decepticons read it wrong or something…"

Spark turned and glared at him. "I checked that; the message couldn't have been older then a day or two; and it couldn't have been clearer, either." She cleared her throat and quoted, "'Run and hide. We're coming back.'"

The Colonel felt his face get impossibly paler. The room started to spin. "Are they out of their mechanical minds?" He hissed. "If they come back now… we'll all be dead!"

"Have they ever cared about that before?" The other slave demanded. "Face it. We're nothing but collateral damage," she spat the words out, jabbing her food one last time, viciously, like she wished it was someone's eye.

"This can't be happening…" The Colonel buried his face in his hands.

That was when Spark snapped.

"Well it is happening!" She screeched. All eyes turned to her as she shoved her chair backwards, standing and raging at the Colonel, who looked up at her in shock. "The Autobots are coming back, all right? They're coming back for us and we're all dead, do you hear me, dead! Every last one of us! And your disbelief is not going to save your life, not going to make you any less dead! You are going to die, I am going to die, we are all going to die!" Her fingers were still clenching her tray; at the last word, she slammed it down onto the table, turned, and strode out furiously. One of the Decepticon guards tried to stop her, but she snarled at him; a sound so cruel and animalistic-yet tinged with red metal- that the Decepticon actually took a step back. Or perhaps it was the glowing blue in her eyes that made it step back. Whichever, it was a sight to behold.

Silence fell over the entire cafeteria. The Colonel looked down at the table, a sinking sensation in his stomach making him feel ill. Slowly, everyone began to return to their food, and their normal lives, but the fear in their eyes remained.

The Autobots were returning.

And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Spark perched on the top of the Line, her feet dangling over the edge and into oblivion. The darkness of space surrounded her, a black nightmare in its emptiness. She watched the planet below her; the planet she'd grown up on-for the most part- but not the planet she was born on. Her house, not her home.

But then, she hadn't even been born in her true home. Her eyes darted to the side; from this angle, she could just see the Earth. That was home. That was where she belonged; where they all belonged. Where they would all be safe forever.

If they just finished work on Cybertron first. Once that was over, they could go home. They could go and fix Earth. Repair what the war had destroyed. It was the only dream- the only hope-that the humans had.

And now… the Autobots were trying to wrench that from their grasp once again.

Why? Why couldn't they understand that they weren't wanted? Why couldn't they get it through their thick skulls that these slaves did not want to be freed? Spark looked down to her hands, imagining her nails beneath. Her nails which were always silver-polished, though she had never once painted them, and looked like lethal weapons in and of themselves. Why couldn't they understand that no one needed their kind of help…?

"Hey," A voice said behind her; Spark tilted her head back. The woman was standing on a bar that had been placed right behind Spark's own, her tether clipped securely onto it. She looked a little shaky-very few people liked to be up this high, only Spark and Exile came here in their spare time- but she seemed to ignore her fear as she crossed over to Spark's bar. She sat down before unclipping her tether and onto the bar she now occupied, so that she was sitting down and secured next to Spark. "How are you holding up?" she asked, flipping up the dark-tinted visor. Spark already knew who it was; the English accent was a dead giveaway. But it was always nicer to be able to look someone in the eye to talk to them.

"I've been better," Spark answered with a wry grin. She looked back to Cybertron. It was beautiful, in its own way. But it would always be a prison to her.

"So it's true then?" the woman's brown eyes gave away nothing; no worry, no fear, nothing. Spark was not fooled. "The Autobots are coming back?"

"They're trying," Spark answered sadly, turning away. The woman shifted her eyes sideways. "I'm sorry, Boss."

"It's not your fault," the Boss answered sadly. "They're just… doing what they think is best. Misguided though it may be."

The two of them fell silent for a long moment; it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. They'd been friends for too long for that. Finally, Spark-looking not at the other slave, but out at the stars- asked in a soft voice, "Do you ever… do you ever wish you were free? I mean, ahead of schedule; that we didn't have to finish Cybertron. That we could just… go home. No matter what that meant; that the Autobots won, that the Decepticons died of a mysterious plague, anything. That we'd just be left alone?"

The Boss looked around nervously for a minute, checking the area. Spark rolled her eyes, but the Boss defending her actions. "Just because you don't always have to watch what you say around the Decepticons, doesn't mean we don't." She kept searching for a minute, then, finding nothing, answered the original question. "All the time." She rested her elbows on her thighs, her chin in her hands. "But it'll never happen. The Autobots don't have a chance anymore; and the Decepticons haven't caught any mysterious plague that I know of yet." There was another, shorter silence, and she asked, "What about you? Do you ever wish we were free?"

Spark glanced sideways at her. "I've never been free," She answered quietly. "I was born into slavery. You know that better then anyone." The Boss didn't answer. It wasn't literally true, but she definitely understood what she meant.

Spark sighed slowly through her nose. "I don't know what I'd be if I wasn't a slave," She went on. "But yes. I do wish that; if not for my sake, then the rest of humanity." Her eyes hardened as she looked at the planet again. "But not if it meant that the Autobots won."

The Boss shied away from the malice in the girl's voice. Spark was fairly young; perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four (birthdays were hard to keep track of these days), but there should not have been that much ancient hatred in her words. Fingering the dog tags on her neck, she breathed, "You hate them that much…" Her hands could not feel the familiar engraving in the metal plates, not through the gloves, but she knew it was there: Eerie.

"Yes," said Spark tonelessly; in the way only she could. "I do."

The Boss looked to the darkening bruises on her face, the cuts that were slowly scabbing over with dark, dried blood. It showed out so starkly against the slave girl's pale skin. The Boss's eyes traveled to Spark's; such a cold amber now, but she had seen another color shining through them. "Was it really so bad…?" She asked tentatively, reaching out, as though to touch her friend's shoulder.

Spark looked to her; the Boss' hand froze in its tracks. "No," she answered. "It was worse."

She stood back up, balancing precariously on the bar, and unclipped her tether. Only Spark was brave enough to do that before she was at the safety of the next bar. Brave enough, or suicidal enough. She leapt down expertly, navigating flawlessly in the zero-g. The Boss watched her go, glancing down to the dog tags on her neck. Slowly, she sighed and stood, navigating her own way down with far less precision.

She certainly was a strange one, that girl…

It took a while for the whispers on the radio to reach any kind of conclusion. Spark tuned in to different frequencies as she worked, picking up chatter on all ends despite her frantic search for silence; or even just static. Nothing. Everyone had their own comments on what was happening, and everyone felt inclined to put in their two cents on the matter, talking to their friend or neighbor or family, but never to Spark herself. Never to the one person who could confirm or deny the rumors floating around; the rumors based on her outburst.

"They're so useless. They can't even-"

"I can't believe they would even consider-"

"What if she was just ly-"

"I don't believe it. I refuse t-"

"She's right. We're all gonna die. Why couldn't-"

Spark bit her lip, trying not to groan aloud in frustration. She flicked through the stations even more rapidly.

"Is it true? Are-"

"The war has been over for-"

"It's just one of Spark's-"

"Has she ever been wrong be-"

Spark scrabbled uselessly at her radio, trying to rip it from where it rested; but it would have done her little good, even if she could have gotten purchase on it through her thick gloves. The one frequency she stayed on kept playing as she clawed at it pathetically.

"If she is right… and the Autobots are returning… then what should we do?"

"There's nothing we can do," someone replied. "We're going to die."

"No. I don't believe that. There has to be a way out. There's always a way out. We've survived all these years, haven't we?"

Spark snarled aloud and flicked a command into her radio; immediately, her voice was broadcast over every frequency, every channel. It was an emergency system, but at this point, she couldn't care less.

"Enough!" She shrieked. The endless chatter and buzz died down in a heartbeat; she saw everyone halt in their work, and the ones nearby glanced to her guiltily. Spark panted heavily, exhausted by the squabbles of the day, exhausted by their worries and fears.

"I know you all have questions," She growled darkly into her microphone. "So ask me. Right here, right now, into my ears and to my face. Quit talking about me as though I can not hear, quit acting like I am not part of this!" She spat the last words out, the heat of her breath fogging up the visor, making it difficult to see.

A long silence followed her words; and it spoke volumes. They all wanted the truth. But they were all too scared of the truth.

Finally, a singular voice spoke in the night. "Is it true, Spark?" The quiet query came, "Are the Autobots returning?"

Spark sighed, low and long. They all knew it was true. But they all needed it confirmed. "Yes."

Immediate chaos erupted in her headphones. Cries of unfairness, imminent doom, and terror rang through her ears. Spark bit down hard on her lip, trying to keep her temper in control.

"I heard a transmission," she told them all, speaking over every one of them. They all fell silent again. "When the Decepticons had me. A transmission came over the speakers, and I heard it all. They checked it with me still in the room; it was only a few days old. They said, "Run and hide. We're coming back."

Spark purposely left out the fact that she had been the one to relay the transmission. The others knew there was something wrong with her, something different. But only the Boss and the Colonel truly knew what. The murmurings began again.

"Arethey crazy?" Someone finally demanded. "They're going to get us all killed!"

"If they come back now… if they start another war… the Decepticons will…" Another person started, then trailed off. No one needed him to finish his sentence; they all knew what the Decepticons would do.

It was the sad truth that every time the Autobots attacked, the Decepticons would get angry. And when the Decepticons got angry, humans died. In their thousands. A careless wave of the hand here, an 'accidental' step to the right from a Decepticon, and who knew how many humans could get caught up in it. They were slaves, after all; and who cared if one or two slaves died?

And all the Autobots ever did was make life harder for them. None of their attacks succeeded. All they ever did was destroy their hard work; the buildings, the atmosphere, everything they worked to rebuild… and it would be destroyed in seconds.

"We're dead," Someone said after another moment. "We're all dead."

"Of course we're not!" Spark recognized this voice; the Boss. "We just have to think of a plan!" she snapped.

"A plan?" A younger woman to the right of Spark demanded hysterically. "A plan? We have no chance, no way to survive! No plan we make is going to save us! We're dead!"

More chaos erupted, a thousand conversations and pleas going on at once. Spark longed to clamp her hands over her ears, but it would do her little good. There were numbers pressing in on the back of her eyes, blackness threatening to envelop her, words trying to burn their way out of her throat… those numbers were back again, back to haunt her…

"ENOUGH!" She screamed again, catching everyone's attention immediately. Her voice carried louder than anyone's, sharper, more metallic. She looked to her friend a ways down the Line. "Boss, what kind of plan did you have in mind?"

"It's not going to work," Someone protested.

"We should just-" Someone else tried, but Spark merely snarled into the mike; a metallic sound that rang through every earphone there.

"Boss, continue," she said darkly.

All eyes searched out the Boss and found her. She shuffled a little, restlessly, clinging to the bar above her head. "Well…" She said slowly. "The way I see it, the problem is simple. The Autobots keep coming because they think that we want to be freed. If they found out for themselves that this is the exact opposite of what we want…" She shrugged; the movement propelled her an inch downwards.

"It's not like we haven't tried to tell them," Exile's voice growled in reply.

"We've had the Decepticons tell them." The Boss countered. "Did we ever expect the Autobots to believe them?"

There were a few affirmative murmurs, some a bit grudgingly, but affirmative nonetheless. Everyone glanced around at each other. Spark nodded slowly to herself.

"So we have to find a way to tell them," Spark announced. "The only problem is, how do we do that?"

Immediately, ideas were thrown out. "Get the Decepticons to take a video message to the Autobot Base?"

"Would the Decepticons even go for that?"

"Possibly. They want The Autobots gone as much as we do."

"It's too risky. They'd shoot down any messenger in a second."

"And they wouldn't believe it even if it did go through; it would be delivered by their enemy and our conquerors."

"It has to be from us," Spark said firmly. "Something that says, 'Hi! We're definitely the humans, this is definitely us speaking, and you'd better shut up and leave us alone!'"

More quiet affirmatives.

"We could maybe set up a communications relay."

"No. It would take a few months to set up a humans-only frequency; we don't have that kind of time."

"Maybe we could borrow some equipment?"

"No. It has to be hands-off, humans-only," Spark broke in vehemently.

The Colonel, who had been strangely quiet this whole time, finally spoke up. "What about some old Autobot tech?"

Static.

More static.

"Something like that would have to be…" Someone said, then let out a tiny squeak of fear.

"Well, I'm not getting it," Someone else said darkly. "No way in hell I'm going back there, ever again."

"Same here," Someone else chimed in; others did the same.

The Boss, irritated, demanded, "Then who?"

A little more static. Then, a timid, female's voice, "Well, Spark, of course."

Slowly, surely, all eyes turned to Spark. Exile- who was a few bars up- drifted to her side, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder. Spark was still somewhat numb; how had the conversation gotten here?

"No," The Colonel said at last. "No. No way I'm letting you do that, Sparky. You're not going there. We'll find another way."

"He's right," The Boss joined in. "It's suicide, even for you. If the Decepticons don't want you there…"

"But they would!" Someone protested. "They want the Autobots gone too, remember?"

"No!" The Colonel shouted. Spark stared out in shock. "We aren't even considering this! This isn't even an option! The air… the skies… it's all poison. It's ash and smoke and rot and… And I won't let you see that again, Sparky, not yet, not until…" he trailed off, then, firmer, "No. It's not an option."

"It's the only option," Spark found herself whispering. Everyone looked to her, searched for her figure on the Line and locked eyes on her once they found her. Spark slowly drifted downwards, towards the center. "They're right. This is the only way."

She caught sight of the Boss; there were tears in her brown eyes. "Spark…" The Colonel kept protesting. "Please… Someone else can go, I'll go, just don't… don't do this to yourself…"

Spark laughed acidly. "You? You wouldn't last ten seconds." She shook her head back and forth quickly. "Face it. If anyone's going to Earth, it's going to be me."

A/N: Yeah… I just made a lot of Autobot fans very angry with me… Oopsie.

There will be quite a bit of Autobot-bashing in this fic. I guess that's an advantage of killing off all of the original Autobots; I'm not going to beat up the characters you love. OR AM I? No. I'm not. Honestly. But, as a warning, there will be a lot of Autobot-Bashing, OCs, and OC Autobot-Bashing.

Anyway. To all my reviewers, you are awesome sauce, and thank you so much for reviewing. I'm going to try and keep this updated more frequently then I used to with my other fics, but I can make no promises.