Optimus Prime might have millions of stellar cycles' worth of battle experiences, but that did not in any way thinned his mercy for individuals involved, be it Autobot or Decepticon. This in part was courtesy of the Matrix of Leadership residing in him, but it was also due to his nature as a compassionate mech. On the battlefield, he would fight with all the savagery at his disposal, inflicting damages as much as possible to his enemies, but when the battles subsided and the area was crowded with helpless victims, he would cast aside their differences and helped them in any way he could regardless of their allegiance.

A fool decision, others might say; a hopeless sentiment might be; but it was his principle, and without it, he was simply not Optimus Prime. He never thought that one orn he would hesitate to abide by the rules he created himself…when a particular Decepticon's fate was put into his own servo to be decided.

The battle at the power plant was a disappointment at some point – the Decepticons had managed to escape with the stolen energy – but all was not lost. After all, they had responded quickly to the emergency call the humans had made and succeeded to cut their energon-making activity short, which meant those Decepticons would be returning home with little enough energon cubes to keep the Autobots happy. Optimus was satisfied with the results, if not thoroughly relieved at Megatron's escape…until Sideswipe's yell of victory caught his attention, as well as the attentions of half a dozen of the Autobots present.

Out from the air, fell a sleek but badly damaged figure of a Seeker, with multi-coloured paintjobs that were rather flamboyant against the azure background of heavens. Smoke trailed behind him like streaks of dispersed black ink while the desperate sputters of its jet engine informed the Autobot leader of the flyer's damages. With a jolt, he realized that no other Seekers of Decepticon possessed such bold colourations, with red being the dominant broken here and there by blue and white paints. Optimus did not wait an astrosecond longer and dashed towards the crash-site of the jet, where a huge plump of dust was kicked up from the tremendous impact, along with his fellow Autobots.

Sideswipe was looking understandably smug as he towered over his victim and was already engaged in heated boasting of his success with his twin brother:

"Ha, you couldn't even bring down a Seeker! Look at what I've got – STARSCREAM!"

His yellow twin did not look very amused by this – Optimus was all too familiar with their little game of 'I'm Better Than You' that included everything and anything in their daily lives, from something as small as finishing their energon cubes as fast as they could to how many Decepticons they could hit in a single battle.

"It's a lucky shot – you and I know it!" Sunstreaker pouted; the sight of him made Optimus wondered for a brief nanoklik whether the yellow Lamborghini was really an Autobot soldier or a spoiled Tower mech.

Other Autobots had already grouped around the perimeter, forming a loose circle to avoid jostling one another even though each of them was just equally curious to see Sideswipe's trophy. The astrosecond they realized that their commander was among them, they parted themselves to create a path for Optimus to reach the Seeker lying at the centre. The Autobot's leader mercy was awakened the instant he beheld Starscream; had he did not know him, Optimus might as well said that he was purple with so much energon covering his slender chassis. The truck-former knelt before the wounded jet, careful not to get too near for Starscream's comfort – and the Seeker lifted his head ever so slightly to stare back. His Spark lurched with pity as he spotted the characteristic rhythmic brightening of fear that adorned the red optics before they dimmed completely. The helm fell back into the puddle of his energon as stasis lock claimed the Decepticon flyer.

Optimus stood up; he had in his servos a difficult decision to make. Starscream was one of the important members of Decepticon commanding officers, holding the rank of Air Commander and Second-In-Command at the same time. Optimus Prime had lived long enough already to get exhausted by this war – generations of leaders had come and gone, but the balance in the winning scale hardly tilted long enough to either side to decide the winner of this Cybertronian ages-long battle. Deactivating him permanently would have inflicted huge impacts on the Decepticon and they might have a real chance, for once, to overpower their enemies. It was a logical thing to do…but it was against everything Optimus had stood for for so long. Would he be willing to sacrifice his principles, for once, in the face of doing an act he would have normally despised for 'the greater good'?

Could he bear the guilt of a one-time decision for the rest of his life?

"Ah say we end his misery," growled a deep voice from behind Optimus, accompanied simultaneously by the whirs of Ironhide's Pulse Cannon getting ready to unleash its powerful blast.

What possessed Optimus in that time, even the semi himself could not answer, but something clicked deep within his Spark as he made his final decision and extended an arm in gesture of denial. "No, Ironhide."

"No?" Ironhide questioned, a word that echoed throughout the Autobot army.

"No," the red-and-blue truck repeated, more firmly than he had previously done. Primus, to announce his decision was far more difficult than he initially thought. "We'll take him as our war prisoner."

The next thing that happened was an absolute verbal chaos; Ironhide shouted how crazy Optimus's call was, while Sideswipe and Sunstreaker joined forces to go as far as offering Optimus to terminate Starscream himself if the leader did not have the Spark for it. Bluestreak looked almost panicky at the thought of bringing back an enemy to the Ark and Jazz, always trying to find the reasoning behind every decision made by his leader, said that the Autobot Commander should have thought about this more carefully. The only mechs that seemed to refuse to voice out their opinions were Prowl and Ratchet, though the medic's expression clearly said you should have your logic circuits replaced instantly.

The Prime lifted a servo and silence fell among the Autobots immediately. His vents cycled out a heavy sigh before he replied, "Autobots, I am aware of the risk involved by bringing a Decepticon to our base, but he is now wounded to the point he will be of no serious threat to us."

"Except to threaten our audios with his screech," Bluestreak mumbled, intending only to soliloquize with himself but ending up saying them loud enough for every mech there to hear. At his side, Jazz attempted no pretenses at snickering, a reaction which proved infectious. Soon, laughter echoed in the area as if they had just finished partying instead of fighting.

"That's enough all of you," Optimus Prime said although the ghost of a smile lingered on his hidden lip components, "I'll say we bring him back. Who knows, maybe we can obtain vital information from him in the process…"

This was greeted with collective agreement by the soldiers, however reluctant some of them looked though. The doubts would have to do for now – Optimus could not expect them all to be happy with his call, but at least they would consent it.

"Prowl? Any thought on this matter?" As the Autobot Second-In-Command, it would be fair to give room for the Datsun to say what he had in his processors – and Primus knew just how very efficient his processors were!

"The logical thing to do will be, of course to terminate Starscream. However, you seem sure with yourself…then I'll say we should admit him to the med-bay under tight security for repairs. If left to heal on his own, Starscream will cease functioning in –"

"– two orns, at most. His physical is overall in good shape, but the main fuel line has ruptured – which is why there's so much energon shed," Ratchet added helpfully; no matter how versatile or knowledgeable Prowl was, no one could beat Ratchet when it came to medical concerns. In fact, no one was allowed to boast your knowledge about repairing – except perhaps for Wheeljack – in front of the CMO if you didn't want a wrench thrown at you.

"That makes it all the more important to bring Starscream with us. Ratchet, if you please," Optimus gestured. Ratchet obeyed without further ado and transformed into his alt-form ambulance. It was somewhat clear that no one was willing enough to touch the already-offline Starscream so Optimus bent down to lift him into his arms and brought the Seeker into the ambulance's opened back space. It saddened the Autobot leader that his soldiers should festered so much hatred towards their enemies even when they were so helplessly damaged.

"Autobots; transform and return to base," he commanded while he altered his physical into a white-grilled red semi. The infamous container – housing his two other inferior components inside – was sub-spaced out as he finished his transformation. The others, obeying his order, did so as well, changing into their respective vehicular modes and went into formation behind their leader as the team headed back to the Ark.

XxXx

"This is bad," Ratchet mumbled – and by 'mumble', by the medic's standard, it meant every mech within 10 Cybertronian metres from him would be able to hear exactly what the Autobot said.

Optimus Prime, who had been patiently waiting for the medic's verdict on Starscream's condition, looked up in interest. "What is it?"

Optimus had summoned Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide and Red Alert to assemble in the med-bay exclusively for a last-klik meeting about Starscream's fate in the Ark while Ratchet worked on the injured Seeker to do what he did best. While others have questioned his decisions, imploring the Prime repeatedly with similar doubts whenever any of the Autobot passed him prior to this meeting, Prowl and Jazz displayed trust in the Matrix-Bearer's judgment no matter how out-of-logic-circuits it sounded – they had worked together for so long that the faiths they had sown in one another were Cybertanium-hard – and for that, Optimus couldn't have been more thankful. Ironhide was of similar case, though he might look even less displeased by the circumstances. Still, he accepted the Prime's reasoning with a reasonably little confrontation. The same could not be said to Red Alert – having been informed of a Decepticon in their midst by the semi once the Autobots reached their headquarter-turned spaceship, his expected paranoia-born glitch resurfaced and it caused him to almost short-circuited after running around the med-bay as if on fire. It was lucky that they had such a capable Chief Medical Officer in their midst or they would have a tough time trying to re-boot the Security Director's processors again and again. Rather than angry, the Lamborghini looked as if he was under viral influence – so sickly his appearances were – when he was calm enough to process the situations, though he, like the others, had agreed to give Starscream a refuge in the Ark.

"Starscream's chassis – Primus!" Ratchet cycled a heavy intake once, a red servo rubbing the side of his helm in a manner the Prime knew from past experiences to indicate worry. "I think – I think I need Skyfire's help in this. Look here; there's weld lines all over the place! It's like as if he was dismantled and put back together every few orns or so."

By this time, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide and even Red Alert were leaning down themselves to look where the Autobot CMO had pointed – true enough, the tell-tale signs of repair were everywhere on the Seeker's frame where it was not damaged by impacts during his emergency landing, but his mid-section looked the worst. A particular gash near his cockpit's end gaped open, revealing sensitive internals which sparked and crackled with electricity; The welding was so recently done that the metals had not enough time to fuse firmly together.

"That may have been exactly the case – looking that Megatron does not sit well with treachery…" Optimus vented out a barely audible sigh. His race, the Transformer, was granted with hardiness that most organics would have envied, being able to live through the worst of injuries as long as their Sparks remained intact and having enough energy to sustain their vital functions. This was an advantage in battles, but it would also subject them to a very terrifying circumstance – A Cybertronian could be tortured so heavily for vorns by their enemies should he be captured but would still remain online by merely keeping their Sparks undamaged. It would have been a life worst even than a mere deactivation.

"Why Skyfire?" Prowl asked.

"Because he would've known more about Starscream's anatomy more than I do – don't get me wrong, I know enough of a Seeker's chassis to perform repairs, but our flyer here needs some make-ups that only another flyer can confirm whether I'm doing it right or wrong." Ratchet didn't even look up from the prone figure lying on his operation berth as he threw his favourite wrench at Jazz, who was struggling to stifle a yeah, right smirk from showing on his faceplates.

"Hey, chill out, man!" the Porsche mocked a terrified whimper as he ducked just in time to avoid the object. The whole med-bay erupted into a brief laughter at the momentary lapse in seriousness, even the ever stoic Prowl. Optimus Prime allowed a smile to form, even though others could not see it.

"Well, Skyfire it is," The truck said once the level of noise subsided enough for him to be heard without having to shout. "I will inform him once he is back from his mission."

"What mission?" Ironhide's optic ridge arched up as he said this – he hated to miss any opportunity to bash out some Decepticons' heads even though he had just finished doing just that.

"Nothin' fer ya' te worry 'bout, man! Just some little headin'-te-space thing to repair the human's satellite," Jazz's voice carried a tinge of amusement still when he said this, but the explanation was enough to prevent Ironhide from throwing his rage at the possibility of being left out.

"Oh."

"I think we are done here –"

" – wait, Prime! What happens when Starscream has been fixed? What should we do to him?"

Good old Prowl, Optimus thought in silence. Truthfully, the semi had not ventured his mind further beyond repairing Starscream. Prowl's processors, though, were working almost 24-7 with little rests, enabling him to spot troubles long before they come.

"What do you suggest?"

"I think we better leave him in the med-bay until his self-repair system can take care of himself, and then we will lock him in the brig. Injured or no, he is still an enemy, and a possible threat."

"Agreed. Thanks, Prowl. Now, if we are all done here…," Optimus paused for an astrsecond, giving room for his soldiers to speak up their mind, if they wish so. When he was met instead with silence, he continued, "…Right; Autobots, dismiss."

Red Alert almost sagged against Jazz at the declaration – apparently, proximity to a Decepticon in an Autobot stronghold was affecting him more greatly than Optimus had initially thought. Oh, Red Alert was no coward – he would gladly drive into a full-blown battle if needed to, but considering that the Ark was supposed to be Decepticon-free, a responsibility that fell on his shoulder-plates as the Security Director, having Starscream in here must have been like a nightmare to him. The Porsche grabbed his arm and led him out of the place, Ironhide and Prowl following closely after them.

Optimus would have left too if not for Ratchet's subtle hem-hem; anybody else wouldn't have noticed it, except perhaps Ironhide or Prowl, but Optimus stopped as if someone was shouting at him. Vorns of working with the medic had taught him many of the white mech's ways – like the faked small cough which actually meant wait, we have something to talk.

The red truck whirled around and approached the CMO, dragging a spare chair with him to sit on at the medic's side. "Something bothering you, Ratchet?"

Ratchet was hardly looking up from his patient when he replied, "I really don't know what's going through your processors, Optimus. Truthfully, I'll side with Ironhide. This is Starscream, if you don't realize it, and the 'Cons will lose a huge advantage if we eliminate their SIC."

"I do not need telling of his identity, Ratchet. I've been in too many battles to not realize that this is Starscream. I know what he's capable of…but I can't help feeling that to simply deactivate him permanently will be morally wrong. We are not Decepticons."

"Primus, we are in a war, Optimus! I understand that you have the drive to feel compassion to everyone and everybody, and most of the time I don't mind it, but Starscream? He is no better than Megatron – maybe worse!"

At this point, Ratchet had abandoned any attempt of remaining calm and straightened up; the screw-driver he used to fix Starscream only a nanoklik before clanked loudly as it hit the metal surface of the operation berth, the hand which had been holding him had released it to be shifted onto the red hip-plating.

Optimus sighed – Ratchet was a good mech, but he was rather grumpy to be dealt with easily. Softly, he said, "I know, Ratchet. But no one is programmed to be readily evil – not even Megatron. I believe Starscream is somewhat…salvageable mentally. Besides, he's hurt – you've said so. We never leave anyone to rust on the battlefield. I am no fool, Ratchet – I fight when I have to, even to deactivation – but there is no honour in terminating a helpless enemy."

Ratchet's '+'-stamped shoulders slumped a little while his vents gulped in cool air to cool his internals. An awkward silence fell between them for an astrosecond but was quickly banished by the medic.

"I pray with all my Spark that you are right, Optimus. If otherwise…we are likely to lose this war. I'm only concerned with the fate of Autobots, of the humans…of Cybertron."

The Prime struggled with his inner desire to smile – Ratchet might not have said it, but the wordings and his tone clearly indicated regret and an unspoken apology to his previous outburst. By the little smile the CMO offered after that, Ratchet signaled his leader that he too had noted that Optimus had accepted his apology.

"I'm similarly concerned, Ratchet, but I've made up my mind and there's nothing else to do than hope for the best."

"And repair this patient you've gotten me," the medic chuckled. He was already bent down over Starscream's unmoving figure and re-started working on the Seeker's wounds.

"So, I guess this is the part where you yell at me to get out of your way so you can work in peace?" Optimus could barely suppress his chuckles from erupting into a booming laughter.

"Well, yes – Get out of my way; I've a mech to fix here!"

Optimus was truly laughing now as he backed away from the busy medic to leave. His heavy pede-steps echoed around the med-bay as he did, right until the door closed with a hiss and he found himself standing alone in the deserted hallway of the Ark. There was no window here, but the uniform orange the whole surfaces were painted with made it looked as if the spaceship's insides were bathed in the glow of dusk sunlight.

Now that he was alone and having finished the day's works, Optimus noticed just how tired he was. Joints creaked whenever he moved them and his spinal-strut was uncomfortably stiff. Craning his neck-joints, a resounding but very satisfying crack came from his neck-cables adjusting back to their original positions. He was about to walk back to his quarters when exceptionally loud whirs of turbines reached his audios.

There was only one mech in the whole Autobot army capable of generating such powerful-sounding noises that his engine's rumbles could be heard well even from inside the Ark – Skyfire. A moment's puzzlement snatched the Prime's attention; the shuttle had returned quite early for Optimus had been informed earlier that he was scheduled to return by tomorrow morning. Probably the satellite's damages aren't so serious, he thought as he made his way to the Ark's main entrance.

Skyfire's huge frame blocked Optimus's view of the outside world completely from inside when he landed just outside the Autobot base's entrance, as huge as he was. Perhaps his size shouldn't have come as a surprise, looking at the fact that he had retained a Cybertronian shuttle as his alt-mode. Even Optimus Prime, considered a big Transformer himself, stood up only to the lower edge of Skyfire's chest-piece in his robot form. This made him a rather convenient transportation for the Autobots if there were Decepticon-caused troubles at places where it was simply too far for them to 'roll out' on their wheels. Besides, a shuttle was supposed to be fast and Skyfire was one of the fastest flyers the Autobot Commander had ever seen, capable of travelling at almost the same velocity a Cybertronian tetra-jet could reach.

Speaking of tetra-jet…he should inform the shuttle-former of Starscream's presence in the Ark as soon as possible.

While Optimus Prime made to approach the huge Autobot flyer, Wheeljack was rolling out of Skyfire's cargo-bay, Perceptor trailing behind him in his bipedal form – the scientist was a microscope in his alt-mode, and even though mobility was still possible, it was neither fast nor convenient. The shuttle waited patiently as he emptied his belly of his passengers before transforming back into his other form; Huge servos unfolded from his sides even as the tapered nosecone was flipped so that it vertically rested over the mech's front; White legs appeared where his thrusters were only a few astroseconds ago; the twin fuel-tanks rose behind his back, prominently red in the midst of dominant white paintjobs; his head appeared last, rising out between his shoulder plating to reveal a calm, calculating face that hid the shuttle's courage which was shown only when called for.

"The repairs went well enough, don't you think?" Wheeljack asked, his head-fins flashing rhythmically with every word he spoke; he was in his robot form by now.

"Hmm…I still say it will be better if we replace the titanium-alloy with Cybertanium. It will prolong the satellite's life-time over 40% its current expected life expectancy, besides having to –"

" – Perceptor, we do what we are asked. They said 'repair', not 'modify'. Although I have to agree with your suggestion with that Cybertanium, or maybe we can use Adamantium instead, but it'll be harder to find that metal in this part of galaxy…anyway, thanks for the lift, Skyfire," Wheeljack stopped his rant from evolving into a full-blown nerdy babbles to give their shuttle friend a thumbs-up, a gesture he had picked up from their human allies, the Witwickys. After all, he spent most of his time with the human engineers when not in battles, especially with the father, Sparkplug, since the human coincidentally shared Wheeljack's passion in inventing.

"My pleasure, friends," Skyfire smiled; he always did. Perhaps that was why he got along well with the rest of the Autobots so quickly despite his Decepticon-tainted past and his terrifying size.

The trio was turning to enter the Autobot base when they simultaneously caught sight of their leader's stunning white-red-blue paintjobs standing out from the orange background of the Ark's walls.

"You return earlier than expected," Optimus pointed out lightly; his tone was neither angry nor accusing, just genuinely curious.

"Ah, the humans fretted too much about the satellite's peeled outer skin – It's nothing," Wheeljack explained as he approached the truck-former. "So, is there anything that we can help?"

Optimus Prime unfolded his arms and shifted his pedes to stand in a more stable posture – it might not have meant much to mechs who did not know him, but Wheeljack had long learnt that these particular body languages meant that the leader was having a hard time to explain whatever it was that ran around in his processors.

"We have a…delicate situation here. I think we better discuss it in a more relaxed atmosphere. Maybe in the common room?"

Even the conservative Perceptor arched an optic ridge at that – Optimus was rarely so tentative when the time came to spill the beans, no matter what kind of beans he was about to spill. Still, it was always wise to hear what their leader had to say, be it good or bad news. The three of them gave their agreement without a fuss, all the while wondering what it was exactly that had Optimus Prime's wires coiled up so tightly as they headed for the said room.

XXXXX

Optimus had never seen such extreme expressions on the faceplates of his Autobot scientists for they were usually so immersed in their respective subjects that it was rare for them to display emotions outwardly. Perceptor and Wheeljack looked downright shocked when he was informed of Starscream's presence, while Skyfire…he couldn't quite put his digit on the shuttle's reactions. There was surprise, of course, nothing unexpected there, but his faceplates were a mess of a whole lot of other undefined feelings. Was it anger that caused the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth? Was it pain that made the light in his optics dimmed a notch? Optimus couldn't tell for sure, not even with his high empathy which was induced by the Matrix of Leadership he was possessing.

"Why, Optimus? Why salvage him when we will gain so much more by…well, you know…" The flashes of Wheeljack's head-fins were a little brighter than they usually were – a sure sign of him being fidgety.

For perhaps the hundredth time already for the day, Optimus Prime replied to the Autobot inventor with the same answers he had been telling Prowl, Ratchet, Jazz, Red Alert, Brawn, Bumblebee and dozens of other Autobots who had voiced similar concerns, adding, "But you don't have to actively take part in his repairs. Ratchet so far requested only for Skyfire's aid, since he was not very accustomed to a tetra-jet-based Seeker. What do you say, Skyfire?"

It seemed as if the shuttle had been wandering aimlessly in processor-drift and was just only pulled out of it by the call of his name. "Wha – Ah, I…I'll help as much as I can, Prime."

Never in Optimus's memory banks had he seen Skyfire became unfocused – if he was, something must be amiss. "What is it? Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing of serious concern. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need a full, proper recharge after that trip to the orbit."

"As you wish, Skyfire. When you are able, meet Ratchet in the med-bay. I'm sure he'll be in there for quite a time."

"I will," was the shuttle's short reply, which was another thing strange about him this orn. He always answered with complete sentence, I will do as suggested, not I will. It was just not his style.

The shuttle rose and left immediately, unaware of three pairs of optics following his steps with worried interests.

Wheeljack whispered once he was sure that the huge mech was out of audio range. "What's with Skyfire?"

Perceptor merely shook his helm, but Optimus answered, "Your guess is as good as mine, Wheeljack."

Optimus Prime watched with concern as Skyfire's white form vanished when he turned round a corner, probably to his living quarters. Something was clearly bothering his friend but it was obvious that Skyfire was still unwilling to indulge his mind to others. The Prime had long learned that sometimes mech couldn't be rushed – it was better if he allowed them a little time to themselves and took it on their own terms. Skyfire was no different.

His pede-steps echoed loudly in the deserted hallways but Skyfire's audios did not seem to detect it with his processors tuned inwardly. Optimus Prime's news was something that should not have bothered him, yet he was. The lost friendship he had once forged with Starscream was a secret unknown to the Autobots. Cliffjumper, Ratchet, Ironhide and Hound had once heard Starscream mentioning something about 'old friendship' when Skyfire was ordered to terminate them when he was still a Decepticon. They had asked him what Starscream had meant by it – Skyfire, still not having any Spark to reveal his relationship with the now Decepticon SIC, had casually deflected their curiousities by saying, "It was Starscream's way of being sarcastic." He did not really expect them to believe his self-appointed lame explanation, but apparently they did.

Perhaps they were unwilling to literally translate Starscream's words, or perhaps they could not grasp the idea of him befriending the once tetra-jet…

It was an exhausting thought. He might have pretended like there was nothing going on, but subsequent encounters with Starscream on battlefields were something he dreaded, but met they did, on a few occasions of which none was pleasant for recollection. Sure, he was damaged in the resulting battles, but it was not that which had affected so. He hid his emotional hurt; he could not tell the others not just because he might be shunned out by them because of it, but it was also because he could not bear to put his burden into others' processors. Besides, this was a war and in wars, personal affairs were as meaningless as titanium moose-bots wandering the barren steppe back on Cybertron.

Skyfire ran an internal diagnosis and discovered that he needed to refuel and recharge soon – he had flown off to catch the wandering satellite with only half-full energon – but he still could spare a few breems before doing so. With that in mind, the shuttle changed his original plan to return to his quarters and headed off to the public wash-room. His own cooling systems should be able to handle the overheating circuits he got from the strains of the journeys, but the thoughts of having refreshingly cool liquid caressing his chassis was rather appealing. Moreover, he was dirty; space dust and debris clung to his frame and wedged themselves in slits his huge digits could not reach, and the smell of burning metal lingered on his armors as well for he was literally on fire every time he travelled through the Earth's upper atmospheres. The heat was of no concern, of course, but the smoke and scents it produced bothered him.

When he reached the orange-tiled room, Skyfire was glad that he would have no company this time. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were about to leave, offering an amiable "Hey there, big guy!" as they passed him, of which he returned with an acknowledgement nod.

The Ark's wash-room had decent-sized cubicles for its occupants' usages – that was, decent-sized for normal-sized bots. Skyfire was a little too large, so the cubicles came as a just-enough fit for the shuttle. This came as no disappointment to him; in fact, he even had his self-dubbed favourite washing cubicle; it was one at the furthest corner of the wash-room. He still could not exactly figured out why this one among tens of others. He guessed with unscientific-like randomness because it was the most secluded, other than mechs didn't usually pick it because it was the furthest, which meant the longest walking distance; He wouldn't know for sure. Nevertheless, it was his favourite no matter what others' opinions of it, and it was that cubicle he entered. Adjusting the shower to lukewarm setting, he turned it on and savoured the drops of water raining down from above as if they were life-giving.

"Sunstreaker's special wax," the shuttle muttered when he found a nearly empty bottle lying at his pedes, picked it up and examined the contents. He was tempted for a while to use a portion of it for a little self-pampering but thought better of it; a 'portion' would likely meant 'all' when it came to mechs his size. After all, naturally programmed in him was what Sparkplug once mentioned as 'gentlemanly manners'; it was rude for him to take something without asking first. Thus, he contented himself with plain warm water and his own servos. His wings fluttered slightly at the quiet joy he was receiving as hands roamed all over his chassis, peeling off dirt and brushing obstinate dust as he went.

It was quiet in here, the sounds being the soft spatters of water hitting the floor and his chassis. Quietness equaled calmness for Skyfire long ago – it allowed his CPU uninterrupted kliks for the shuttle to satiate his buzzing scientific mind. Now, though, quietness came with a new definition, because it meant times to remember memories he was not sure he wanted to replay…

XxXx

"Are you happier being a warrior than a scientist, Starscream?"

"Yes, it is far more exciting and one day, I, not Megatron, will lead us and then you will be my Second-In-Command!"

"I…am grateful for you freeing me from my tomb of ice. I shall try to bring you credit."

XxXx

"I promised these Earth-creatures no harm will come to them. This is wrong."

"Who are you to offer safety to our enemies, Skyfire?"

"Enemies? But they are…they're my friends!"

"Do not interfere!"

"I don't understand…"

"The puny flesh-creatures are insignificant! Once they cease being useful to us, they will be terminated!"

"My function is to further science; learning, not to destroy innocent life-forms…"

XxXx

"Those years under the ice diminish your loyalty coefficient, Skyfire. But because of our old friendship, I shall be generous; you may have the pleasure of melting down these Autobots."

"But…I'm a scientist, not an executioner!"

"I am your superior! I order you to terminate them!"

"No, I will not! They have done no wrong!"

"But you have, traitor!"

XxXx

"You're through, Skyfire!"

"You forget, Starscream; I can transform too! Time to even the score, friend!"

"Where are you traitor? Show yourself!"

"Here I am!"

"You shall pay for your treachery!"

XxXx

Skyfire did not realize when did his servos stopped picking out impurities on his chassis and instead went up to bury his face in their palms. He also had no way of discerning whether the warmth his faceplates were registering came from the shower-water or from something else. Skyfire in his sparklinghood was not displeasing; he had caring creators who supported his passion for sciences with whole Sparks. He had unnerving concentrations to complete his sharp CPU, after all. There was nothing shameful about not being interested in the glory of battlefields, they had said, but apparently his colleagues had different opinions on these.

"Sciences? What good there is in it?"

"Shame that build of yours not put to good use."

"You would've done so much more if you just leave your lab."

Hearing such questions asked to him became his daily must-to-do. Yet, science was all he was interested in; science was his life. Because of it, he ignored the words of his supposed-to-be-friends and pursued what he loved most. In the end, he was left with no friends, no comrades, no acquaintances…until he met Starscream.

The young tetra-jet was also an outcast in their societies, only Starscream was much worse…he was disowned by his own family. The hurt he had seen in Starscream moved Skyfire and Starscream was eager to accept any shred of friendliness offered at joors like these. They were mutually delighted to discover that they shared the same interests, though Starscream was more inclined to inventing and exploding stuffs while Skyfire loved exploration and educational trips. They found their true selves in each other and all was as it should be…

…until that fateful exploration to the young yet-to-be-named planet that one orn would be known to them as Earth.

It didn't only separate these two flyers physically, through time and space, but it was also the point in which their lives took on diverging routes. When he was re-awakened from stasis lock four-plus-something billion Earth years later, he somehow knew that Starscream's faction was not meant to him.

And they were enemies since then till this very astrosecond…

Skyfire spent a few more breems in the cubicle before he deemed he was satisfactorily clean by his standards. By the time he was finished, his white paintjobs almost gleamed from the reflections cast off by the Ark's in-built lighting systems, and it was without the wax. He amused himself how he would have looked if it did while he wiped off the lingering water-drops with the cloth put specifically in there for drying one's chassis.

The refuel hall was not very far from his quarters, and for that, he was grateful. The shuttle found himself already exhausted by the time he reached the Autobot equivalent of the Nemesis's mess hall. Several pairs of blue optics looked up from their energon cubes when he entered – he was always noticed upon arrival because of his size, even if his quietness did nothing to fish their attentions. The Autobots, as was their usual, waved at him and greeted him with friendliness he could not find anywhere in the Decepticons, even in Starscream. He replied to each of them just as amicably, declining requests to sit with them and refuel together with all the politeness his tiredness permitted.

"I will only be here for a while. I badly need to catch my recharge," he said, and they all accepted his reasons without much fusses. True to his words, Skyfire drank in three cubes of energon quickly, though not greedily (no one knew how Skyfire could refuel so fast and yet retained his table manners), and left the place.

When Skyfire reached his quarters, he wasted not a klik to lie down on his berth. With his condition, it was not surprising that he went into recharge almost instantaneously.

I wonder how Starscream will react when he sees me, Skyfire's CPU managed to process one last time before comfortable darkness warped him as his systems went offline, preparing Skyfire for what was to come tomorrow.

XXXXX

The underwater headquarter of the Decepticon forces, Nemesis, looked today just as it did any other day since its sinking to the bottom of Atlantic; it was a place fit to be described as haunted had the onlookers did not know what the huge spaceship housed within it. It was a formidable place, almost impenetrable by those who did not belong to pass its many doors…and yet, if anybody with supreme infiltration skills did manage to enter it, he would have noticed that something was not quite right in here. The Nemesis lacked a few of its characteristic phenomenon this orn; for one, there was no mech complaining of being spooked by Skywarp's crazy warping – which he did for the sake of the pure fun of it. Megatron, which was usually seen roaming the dark hallways to check on his troops, was also nowhere public to be seen. Another thing noticeable was the absence of a rather annoying cliché of I shall rule the Decepticons, not Megatron, voiced in a screechy tone that was all too familiar to Nemesis's residents.

Thundercracker had stayed awake all through the dark hours in Skywarp's chamber without an astrosecond's worth of recharge. The Seeker was exhausted, but he had not the Spark to leave his trinemate just like that and returned to his own place. Many times had he tried to get some rest but his processors were far too muddled with activities to entered recharge-induced standby-mode. Thus, he contented himself to sit cross-legged at the edge of Skywarp's berth, watching with hidden worry at the purple jet-former as he laid in recharge, looking peaceful for all its outer appearances showed. Thundercracker knew better, though.

The moment Skywarp saw Starscream being shot down by the Autobots last orn, it was like he was being seized by a fits or something. Thundercracker had had a tough time trying to calm him down before for he looked unnervingly close to CPU-crash. Among the Decepticons, Skywarp had been hit the hardest by this loss. This was of no special surprise, given the fact that they were a trine, but the sudden loss was just too much for his youth to handle. Sure, Starscream was the youngest among them three, but Skywarp, though being the middle in the trine, had no experiences beforehand to prepare him for a trauma of this magnitude. In front of the others, Skywarp had let coolant tears poured out of his optic ducts shamelessly all through their return journey to Nemesis. In any normal circumstance, Megatron would have back-handed him for such emotional reactions, but apparently, something was bothering the warlord that he too was reduced to silence.

In some ways, Thundercracker was secretly in anger that Megatron had decided to retreat rather than return to the battles to save Starscream, but he thought later, when his anger had subsided enough to allow for unclouded reasoning, that it was maybe a wise decision; with each of the Decepticons being low on energy, to Megatron it was a risk not worth taking. Even with the reluctant understanding, he still wondered if there was any way in which he could help Starscream, though he was quite sure that there was none. He longed to get some news about him – any news at all – but he was unable to. The Seeker connection they shared among them would be reduced to uselessness in the concerns of communication due to the distance separating them, though he still could sense, more or less, the energy signature heralding the presence of still-living Spark at Starscream's side of the bond. At least, that was some assurance, no matter how little it was.

A slight stir at his side made Thundercracker's head turned. To his relief, Skywarp was not coming out of his recharge just yet. If he did, it would be a tad too early since his last activity scan registered 37% running functions above normal, which was a sign of overworked systems. Thundercracker had had the mind to fetch a couple of energon cubes while Skywarp was deep in recharge, to be handed to him when he woke up later. The purple Seeker would be too low in energy to walk then that Thundercracker doubted he could even walk the short distance to the mess hall. Sighing out a rush of air through his shoulder vents, the blue-and-white jet-former leaned down slightly to place his servo on Skywarp's hood, just below the front edge of his dark helm. It was a gesture of consolation that Thundercracker felt compelled of him even though his trinemate could not exactly feel it while in recharge. He might not be able to offer comfort to Starscream, but at least he would do all everything within his ability range to Skywarp in compensation…

XxXx

Soundwave stood ramrod-straight, the only way of standing he knew, in the Nemesis's Command Centre while he waited for the return of one of his Casetticons from its patrol duty. The area was deserted save by himself and Ramjet, who happened to be on monitor duty at this moment. The communication officer made no attempts at all at starting a conversation with the Conehead, who appeared to be so bored he looked almost ready to be deactivated if this continued a klik longer. Already the jet was slumped in his seat in an uncomfortable-looking fashion with his wings got caught by the armrests. That apparently did not stop him from getting drowsy, as the huge yawn he gave indicated.

Laserbeak's screech coming out from the speakers installed on the control panel announced his arrival as well as his request for the surfacing of the landing tower. Ramjet nearly fell out of his chair in surprise, hissing in discomfort as his wings were somehow twisted a little at the edge from his movements.

"Request granted," Soundwave heard the jet groaned, followed by an almost inaudible beep as a particular button was pushed. The thunderous rumbles of the landing tower pushing through the water resonated through the walls of Nemesis, broken by a soft splashing as it broke the surface. A moment's pause, and the same noises the tower made on the way up were repeated as it retracted back into its place, carrying along Laserbeak in it.

With the return of his bird-cassette, there was no need any more for Soundwave to remain in the Command Centre so he exited the place. He uttered not a word to declare his departure to the Conehead, who was beginning to grow just as drowsy as he did before Laserbeak called in; the usual procedure required Laserbeak to fill in reports of his patrol, but the Cassette had been comm. linking with his master along his return journey and had had Soundwave helped filled the details even before his arrival. It was a small enough help compared to what his cassette-minions did in his stead every time he went on a mission.

Laserbeak's squawking as it flew out of the turbo-lift was unintelligible to most other Decepticons except Megatron himself, but its meaning was clear enough to Soundwave who waited just outside. His CPU interpreted each rise and dip in Laserbeak's tone perfectly and all indicated how glad the Casetticon was to be back. Soundwave offered no verbal reply in return as he knew full well that Laserbeak was aware of their mutual gladness. Wordlessly he pushed on the button on his shoulder and his cavity chest was opened, in which the cassette-transformed bird-bot soared into, fitting within it so effortlessly that no scraping sound was heard as he did. No doubt Laserbeak would have likely fell into recharge the instant he was safe within Soundwave out of exhaustion.

Now that Starscream was not around, Soundwave had been promoted as the Decepticon SIC – or at least, the deputy-in-charge until the Seeker was back and functional again. Many had speculated that the office would remain to be held by Soundwave since they thought that Megatron had no intention to recover Starscream from the Autobots; the communication officer did not quite agree on that. Even after all the trials at insubordination, the fact remained that Starscream had performed his duties with unsurpassed efficiency as long as he held the title. It was doubtful that the Decepticon Supreme Commander would let such capable mech in the servo of his enemies for long. Megatron was far too possessive to give up on his Seeker. Besides…

Soundwave's self-made rule that no spying Megatron's thoughts without permission was not applicable recently. His telepathy had picked up strange emotions from the leader whenever they were in close proximity, feelings which were so raw and unyielding that the Communication Expert did not even need to strain his mind to detect them. Of course, sometimes he could sense Megatron's general mental pattern when the dictator was experiencing extreme emotions, but never in clarity as sharp as these. Still, what Soundwave conceived were so muddled up that there was no possible mean to discern one thought from the other; they were mingled and continuous, each one connected in one way or another to the last. This baffled him since no mind he had ever delved into had natures like Megatron's.

Perhaps that was why Megatron was so unpredictable in his actions…

::Megatron to Soundwave. ::

Soundwave was apparently too deep in processors-drift that the stoic mech was unbelievably caught by surprise at the call, something which was almost impossible to happen to a mech like him.

::Soundwave responding. Proceed.::

::Come to my quarters at once.::

::As you command, Lord Megatron.::

The connection was cut off from Megatron's side without even a little closure. Soundwave found it to be a bit peculiar but did not dwell long on it. It was not his place to judge when he was not ordered to, only to follow given commands.

And follow he would do.

XxXx

The windows in Megatron's quarters are situated so that they overlooked the vast expanse of space as Nemesis cruises the cosmos like it is supposed to. Now though, stranded here, they revealed instead the views of the murky depth of Atlantic ocean. They were of no use now if one wanted to see the sky or to spy the Autobots, but they did offer views of many of marine organics living here.

With his servos locked together behind him and optics gazing at the sceneries beyond the glass of his windows, Megatron had all the outer appearances of someone deep in thoughts. A couple of sharks came into view when they tussled with one another to claim their shares on a battered remains of a tuna but the Decepticon leader was in fact did not follow their struggles. Blood oozed out from their open wounds, bright red against blue-black surrounding – the contrast was somehow stunning enough to pull back Megatron's meta-processors to focus on the reality that was around him. Out of pure instinct, he extended a servo to trace along the blood streaks that got smeared on the glass with his digits with dreamy attention.

"Yes…it has always been like that, isn't it?" His hoarse voice rumbled low, but the silence enveloping his quarters made it sounded several magnitude louder than it actually was. Everything he said was babble to other mechs if he happened to be heard, but to Megatron it made perfect sense; the power struggle, the teetering balance, the bloody results the fight caused…

Whatever visual monologue the processors-drift pulled out of Megatron's memory banks, it was cut short by the beep announcing Soudwave's presence just beyond the door, followed by said mech's voice identifying himself.

Megatron voiced his permission for Soundwave to come inside without having to move anywhere or push any button since his quarters' intercom was directly linked to his communication systems. At once, the visored mech stepped inside when the door was opened for his entry. The leader knew this without even turning to face the newcomer, the hiss of opening door and the clanking pede-steps telling him the details almost as well as visual feedbacks would.

Only after a few kliks of total silence did Megatron turned on one pede to look at Soundwave directly, optic-to-visor. It was impossible to tell what the communication officer was feeling or thinking; it was as if he was created without emotions, or at least he had no programming to display them. Megatron, on the other servo, was a rather expressive mech; coupled that with his refusal to hide his emotions in Soundwave's presence, each and every feeling that crossed his CPU was visible in the creases and bends on his faceplates, in the dimming of his optics, in the way his lip components twitched at the corners.

"So, Soundwave; tell me…I have experienced…malfunctions with the memory drive. What could have been the problem with it?" There was no note of awkwardness in Megatron's way of speaking; he was conditioned to such emotionless displays when he became the lord of the Decepticons. He could not afford to sound unconfident when he was their tyrannical leader but the slight pause and lowered tone were indications enough of his discomfort.

"Clarification: Required," was the reply given.

Megatron's vents whirred as he cycled out a heavy sigh; as telepathic as Soundwave was, apparently the Communication Expert had not breached his limits and invaded Megatron's CPU. Thus, finer details were always needed whenever he ordered the mech to answer questions that were asked to him. In some ways it was a relief, knowing that his thoughts remained as private from others, but right now Megatron was not really in the mood for talking.

Trying hard in restraining his grumpiness from showing and failing miserably at it, the Decepticon overlord spoke:

"Ever since we returned from the raid, I have tried to connect to Starscream's meta-processors with this memory drive you've invented...and yet, I received nothing in return. No statics, no feelings, nothing. Why is that?"

"Explanation: Unavailable. Further information needed before drawing conclusion. Request for connection to check possible faults."

Megatron waived a dismissive servo before Soundwave's faceplates, anxious to get all these settled muttering irritably, "Fine, do what must be done – and do it quick!" and sat down on the desk chair.

Soundwave approached his leader to find that the outlet occupied by the memory drive was already opened for him. Megatron waited with an air of impatience – a motivation enough for the cassette-player to do whatever he was about to do as fast as possible. Megatron's slight glance to the side revealed to the warlord that Soundwave had had his digit extended, the tip transformed into some kind of a miniature plug. A curiously prickling sensation spread through his the circuitries in his cranial plating once the finger-plug was inserted into the outlet.

Megatron struggled to hold himself from rebelling against such intrusive actions. It helped to remind himself that the mech who performed it was Soundwave; not only he had the expertise to carry out operations like this, the Communication Expert was also trustworthy, unlike another of his…underling…who would have likely to shoot his null-rays right through Megatron's vital areas the first chance he got.

A klik of faceplates-scrunching later, Megatron suddenly realized that Soundwave had already withdrawn from his systems, indicated by the sudden vanishing of the prickling in his head-internals, and that his outlet had closed of its own volition as if it was unwilling to be checked any longer than necessary.

"Well?"

"Assumption: Inactive meta-processors. Possible cause: Starscream being in stasis lock."

"I see." Unlike most of his previous responses, which were largely directed to Starscream, Megatron meant it when he said this; He did really see what the problem was in this case. "I have learned that this fancy gadget of yours could send me Starscream's sensory feedbacks. Can't you somehow override it and activate his preceptors from here? At least, I need to know where Starscream is, in what condition, whatever details that may be useful to me."

"Request: Impossible. Reason: Requirement for active meta-processors for connection. Stasis-lock unable to be terminated unless Starscream's physical conditions being satisfactory."

Megatron stared at his deputy-SIC as if Soundwave had just announced that the whole Decepticon troops were over-energized and were unable for operation until they were sober again. "Then, what do you suggest, Soundwave?"

"Suggestion: Wait for Starscream's re-activation before attempting proper connection."

The intense flickering in Megatron's optics was an equivalent of the Earthling's annoyed eye-rolling when he received the answer – and he was not bothered to keep his thoughts of you do not need to tell me the obvious from echoing in his CPU. Soundwave had a very good chance of hearing that out, since Megatron knew that his loudest and barest thoughts still could reach the navy-and-white mech without them being properly connected, but even if he did, he must have pretended that nothing ever passed. Still, he answered:

"Yes, your suggestion is accepted. You may leave now, Soundwave."

Soundwave executed a slight bow which was accompanied by his signature, "As you command, Lord Megatron," before backing away and left Megatron's living quarters.

Alone again, Megatron returned to face the windows behind him. The sharks have left by now, the only remains of their battles were the flakes of flesh drifting down like miniature snow-drops and faint traces of reds that threatened to dissolve completely any astrosecond. He had no idea what happened to the sharks; whether they had killed each other, or that one survived to live the glory of its slaughter, or that both were still alive, injured yet capable of recovery if given enough time, and were somehow consent in sharing the prey they had previously fought over. The last choice was the most unlikely, but strange things happened sometimes. Nobody knew whether miracles did happen just now, or other options were favoured.

None have the answer to what all these havocs might lead to, an analogue of what he and Starscream were going through.