I am sorry about the formatting issue in the first chapter... It's been corrected, of course, now, but I don't know how it appeared or how to get rid of it in any way other than backspacing (which I did for this chapter.) If anybody could give me some advice about that, it would be great.

About the whole RC-13/RC/Arcee thing: Yes, I know that her name is technically spelled Arcee. But in the story, her reference number itself starts with RC. Thus, Orion also knows her as RC, while her other friends call her RC-13. In short, she hasn't received the name 'Arcee' yet. That is why I have spelled it as RC everywhere.

Anyway, some Cybertronian terms that I have invented that you should know:

Appasa = Carrier. (Like how one might say Mom or Mama instead of Mother.)

Agraja = Sister or any older, related female bot (but of the same generation.) A term of respect used instead of said bot's name.

That's it. Enjoy the story! Please review so that I can get some feedback.

Before Orion and RC could reach her shelter, there was one big obstacle to be cleared: the high metal wall at the end of the dead end alley. RC scampered up it in a flash, as if she did it everyday, but Orion faced a real problem. He kept slipping down –his lack of experience at climbing left him at a loss as to how to find proper footholds. Finally RC climbed back over to see what was taking him so long. It was getting windy now, and the force of the wind threatened to topple her lithe body over as she crouched at the top.

She sighed at his state and offered him a servo, but he being a mech a few vorns older and she being a femme just barely a youngling, she lacked the strength to pull him up. At last she was forced to get back down, give him a much-needed boost up and then clamber up herself. Then she pushed him into jumping down (a little too adventurous for him) and by common agreement, they started to walk briskly. They were way too tired to run now.

As they walked, she told him many interesting things. She and her younger brother had been in one of the lower - although not the lowest -castes, that is, the cleaner's caste. It was hard, dangerous work with few credits to be earned. Workers were always at risk of being infected by toxic waste. This was the way in which RC's own formers had offlined.

RC knew what happened to orphans in the lower castes. They were put into the lowest caste, mining. Miners had no rights, no pay and tiny rations. She did not want herself or her brother to fall prey to such a fate. So they ran. It was hard, keeping herself and a sparkling safe and, more importantly, at least half fueled. They had been on the brink of joining the All Spark when they had met D-16 and S-42. Ever since then, they'd stuck together.

D-16 and S-42 were older and wiser. They, too, had run from the same fate but not for the same reasons - they had been in mining and couldn't really slip any farther down the caste system.

Instead, when they had seen a chance they escaped and brought themselves to Iacon. Orion found the actual reason why they'd done it rather odd. They had been told of Iacon as a fascinating city, where the richest and the highest castes lived. Where there were tall skyscrapers and amazing architecture. Where all of Cybertron's most intellectual, greatest beings lived. A place where the Primes themselves had walked.

It seemed to be the ultimate prize to two young miners in Kaon.

But Orion did not understand this. Living a relatively high caste life, he had been sheltered from those who toiled solar cycle after solar cycle so that he could live a comfortable life. He did not understand their pain, their deprivation or their sacrifice. As a result he had never experienced ambition or opportunity in his short life, simply because there had never been a need for it. He could not see why two younglings had run from everything they had ever known, to find a not-so-perfect Promised Land.

RC could not find the words to express this, and decided to abandon the issue.

The old building which they now approached seemed to be very ordinary. It could have been any of the other twenty similar looking Plan 39Q3-8 buildings on that very street, probably scheduled for demolition. The corners were coated with rust and the shutters on the windows banged in the howling wind. Orion recognized this place as part of old Iacon. He had been here a few times but not many. There were very few droplets of acid yet, but there soon would be many more - this was merely the calm before the storm.

"These are some of the oldest buildings in Iacon. Oldest and mostly uninhabited. We're quick enough to get around under the notice of the few who do live here. So far, at least." RC explained to Orion. He noted the lock on the door, now very much outdated but still able to raise an alarm. "What are you going to do about that?" he wondered.

RC snorted and kicked the door open. "Lock's rusted through. Been so for a couple of stellar cycles at the least, from the looks of it." The interior of the house looked dark and musty. "We do our stuff on the second floor." RC explained. "It's convenient and cleaner, and much more airy. Besides, nobody usually notices a couple of lights on the second floor."

Before Orion could enter, there was a startlingly sharp peal of thunder and he fell down into the house with a barely audible squeal. RC laughed and helped him up. "The real storm is about to start." She noted. "Come on." She closed the door behind them. The wind shut up and there was utter darkness for a nanoclick before Orion's optics began to adjust. A single shaft of light, beautiful in its simplicity, came from an almost shuttered window above a staircase. Across the landing was a door, one that presumably led to the second floor.

Something about it reminded him inexplicably of home and he thought guiltily of his carrier. Though she was strict and sometimes Orion thought her a little unfair, he loved her all the same and realized that she was probably worrying herself over what Orion was doing in the wake of this storm. "Hey, RC," He began. "I'm going to need to comm. my carrier right now or else she'll spend all her time worrying about me."

RC, who was on the foot of the stairs, paused. "You have a comm.?" she asked, surprised. "Yeah." He answered, a little embarrassed, though he didn't know why. It was more of a self realization that he was talking to a femme who had never owned a comm. in her entire existence, he supposed. "Well, then, go ahead."

: Hello, Appasa. :

: Orion! By Primus, are you alright? I was just about to comm. you myself… Where are you? :

: I'm fine, Appasa. I'm in… I'm in a shop. : Orion disliked lying, but he knew that his carrier would heartily disapprove of the truth (mixing with low castes). He was afraid that she would catch the slight tremor of his voice and the fidgeting of his digits somehow over the comm. link, but she didn't, much to his relief.

: Channel's Energon Goodies. I went in as soon as I noticed the storm…Channel's letting me stay till it's over. : He continued. Orion's carrier knew Channel. His place had been something of a meeting place for Orion and his friends when they were younger.

: Thank goodness you're fine. Stay there and when the storm's over come straight home, alright?: She closed the link.

"Done?" RC asked. There was an emotion in her optics that Orion couldn't quite place. He nodded almost imperceptibly. "Then come on."

They climbed up the stairs and on to the landing. Before them stood a tiny, stooping door. RC knocked on it twice, four times and then twice again. Orion guessed that this might be some kind of secret code. The door opened inwards. A tall mech, with no paintjob, opened the door. He was strong and wide, his aura commanding. He, like RC, showed the signs of energon deprivation. Orion assumed he was either D-16 or S-42, because he definitely couldn't have been RC's younger brother, BB-21, who was still a sparkling. He started towards RC in a relieved motion. "RC, we were worried about you… Be quicker, won't you next - you brought a high caste?"

"Orion saved my life and he wouldn't have been able to get home before the storm broke-" RC stoutly defended.

"That doesn't mean you bring him here, of all places!" The mech exploded. "This was our one safe haven and you-"

"Orion won't do anything. I trust him. He saved my life. He was to far from his home to get there in time to escape the storm, so I thought-"

"Haven't you understood, RC-13? Upper castes are. Not. Trustworthy. How many times do they have to hurt you in order to for you to realize that?"

"You're the one who's always saying that our grudges should be against actions and not individuals or groups, D-16." RC countered stonily.

"I don't-" D-16 laid a servo at the back of his helm, thoroughly irritated at having his own ideologies used against him. "Fine. Get in. Now, before I change my mind." He commanded. RC strutted in, happy at having her way, while Orion entered a little nervously. D-16 slammed the door behind him, which made him jump.

The room was small and sparsely furnished. Two berths were neatly kept side by side in one corner. Orion could not figure out how all of them fitted on to there. On the left wall of the room there was another door that probably led to a washroom. A bench was randomly positioned in the middle, as though it were the proud centerpiece of the entire room, though it was a simple workbench that could probably be found in Ratchet's sire's workstation.

A mech that Orion guessed was probably S-42 was lounging on it with a bored expression. He too had no paintjob, like any other low caste, but the natural shade of his armor itself was darker, compared to RC or D-16. Like them, he was short on fuel too. He had tentacles to act as data cables, which he was amusing himself with by snapping them above his head. He moved his yellow optics to give Orion a once over, but other than that, did not acknowledge him.

Orion stood nervously between the workbench and the door. He noticed another open door directly opposite him, which seemed to be the only source of light in the entire room. He could see the storm outside and realized that it was a gallery. "BB-21? Come in, you'll get cold." RC shouted from besides Orion.

A tiny little sparkling stumbled in, grinning. They're all starving, Orion realized. He wished he had some more energon in his subspace to give. "Agraja!" He squeaked. He ran up to RC, who knelt down and placed a servo on his helm. BB-21 looked up at her curiously. "I have something for you." She fished out the energon treat that Orion had given her. "Here."

BB-21 took it from her and put it his mouth. He smiled immediately at the taste. "Where'd you get that?" Asked D-16 sharply. "You know that stealing from the shops is much too risky."

"Orion gave it to me." Orion tried not to look back at D-16, who was staring at him now in a hard, contemplative manner. This was getting more awkward by the microcycle. Sensing this, RC began making introductions and told the short story of how she met Orion.

When she was done, D-16 shut the gallery door, since the wind and acid had started to come inside. At once the noise of the storm died away and so did the last remnants of light in the room. The only bits of light came from five pairs of optics; four disturbingly dim from being low on energon. "Could you switch on the light?" Orion asked. "The lights don't work." said RC glumly. "Never have."

There was silence, until D-16 asked Orion grudgingly to sit down, and S-42 got off the workbench to make room for him. Keeping a guest standing was an insult in Cybertronian culture, so Orion felt a little relieved. At least D-16 didn't seem to want to make an enemy of him. Orion sat.

The other occupants sat down on the floor in front of him. As best as he could tell, RC was on the far right, with BB-21 in her lap. The other two mechs sat besides her. Orion felt uncomfortable sitting above them all, so he joined them on the cold floor. They did not say anything, but the atmosphere in the dark room changed a little. Orion could tell that they appreciated the gesture, symbolic as it was.

There was a click as BB-21's optics offlined. Orion guessed that the little sparkling had fallen into recharge. "Uh... "He started. "Shall we do something?"

"Such as what?" asked D-16. His voice was strained in an effort not to seem mocking. "I don't know." Orion replied. The silence of an unwelcome intruder forced to parley with those that he knew nothing about enveloped them once more.

"So…Do you have any hobbies?" Asked Orion lamely. He had never been good at starting conversations and this particular sentence made him want to wince with awkwardness. But it was all he could think up at the moment.

"No." They answered after a spot of hesitation. "Come on." Orion encouraged. "What do you do in your spare time?"

"We survive." growled D-16. Orion frowned. "No, I mean, don't you like do something in your free time, like listening to music, or reading or writing or sketching…?"

D-16 began muttering about how high castes were utterly clueless and impudent. RC sighed. "We can't."

"Huh?"

"Orion, we have never been to school. We can't read or write, much less sketch." RC said with a touch of irritation.

S-42 butted in."And I have not so much as touched a datapad in my entire existence." He growled. It was the first time he had spoken and his voice did not seem to fit his age. "Though RC does have a rather nice singing voice."

Orion was not exactly shocked. He knew that most low castes did not have many rights, including the basic one of being educated simply because the High Council had decided that they had no need of it.

What did hit him hard, however, was that these Cybertronians had nothing. No rights meant no education. No education meant that they could not demand these rights. It was a vicious circle, he realized. They have nothing.

They had no family they could tell of, either, which meant no support system. That, in fact, was the very reason they had come together - a need for trust, someone they could rely on. Cybertronians needed social interaction. It was deeply ingrained into their processors. That was why bonds of any type, when formed, were always deep. They had no such true familial bonds. They have nothing.

Even the building that they lived in was not theirs. The workbench was not theirs. The berths weren't either. They have nothing.

They didn't have names, only numbers. They didn't have paintjobs. As if... As if they had no individual identity. They have nothing.

They owned nothing except themselves, and each other.

Orion gazed deeply into their faces. They were illuminated by only the glow of their optics, giving them an eerie glow. He could see pain there. Sacrifice. Hunger. Many vorns endured. Exhaustion. And more than a hint of desperation. I have to give them something…

"Then I will." He said suddenly, startling them all, including himself. "You'll what?" Asked D-16 in a cautious kind of way.

"I'll do it. I'll teach you how to read and write. If the instructors at school won't teach you, I will. It's my job, anyway, since I'm in the archivist caste." He smiled at their shocked expressions. "I promise."