"Is that all that's left of their army?" Springer asked, staring with amazement at the ragged collection of mechs that had gathered in the main plaza. "I mean, I knew Unicron did a number on them, but I had no idea it was this bad."

"I think that's all of them that were left on Cybertron," Ultra Magnus confirmed. "There's bound to be others on Decepticon-occupied worlds, of course, but the bulk of Megatron's forces were here when Unicron attacked. And we captured some of the survivors, though most got away. Still... I'm surprised that this is all that's left."

Rodimus couldn't help but agree with Springer and Magnus as he watched the last of Cyclonus' troops touch down and assemble. Doubtless the Decepticon commander had hoped that by marshaling all his remaining troops here for the prisoner exchange, he could make a show of force and intimidate the Autobots into caving to his demands. The effort looked bound to backfire, though - granted, there were a couple dozen Decepticons gathered, but all looked battered and exhausted. Some were missing limbs, optics, or plates of armor, though whether that was because Cyclonus had ordered them to move out before repairs could be completed or because they somehow lacked the resources to fix themselves, Rodimus wasn't sure.

Cyclonus himself looked as if he'd been run over by a Dinobot, with deep dents in his armor and one horn ripped off entirely. Despite his damages, however, he continued to glare at the Autobots, his expression cold and cruel, as if he had the superior firepower here. Somehow Rodimus doubted Cyclonus actually had some kind of ace up his armguard, and he assumed that was just the mech's default expression.

"Rodimus Prime," Cyclonus said coldly, "you have Decepticon prisoners."

"A few," he acknowledged. "Combaticon Swindle, Stunticon Breakdown, Seeker Ramjet, and Decepticon Wildfire." There was some debate as to whether that last one actually counted as a Decepticon, seeing as Wildfire was a sparkless drone, but in the end they'd decided his temperament alone qualified him. "We're prepared to offer you a deal."

"We don't make deals with lesser mechanisms," Cyclonus snapped. "You will turn them over to us, or you'll suffer the consequences."

An unfamiliar Decepticon at Cyclonus' side, a bearded and clawed blue mech with weird batlike wings, grimaced at his commander's threat. It seemed even the Decepticons themselves were painfully aware that they were outmatched here, and that if Cyclonus pushed the Autobots too far it could result in them being turned to scrap very quickly.

"Before you go making idle threats, Cyclonus, at least hear us out," Rodimus replied.

"No trade until we check on our guy!" Brawl shouted, shoving past Astrotrain and Dragstrip as he worked his way to the front of the crowd. "Swindle! You okay?"

"Just friggin' peachy," came the reply from behind Rodimus - the Combaticon jeepformer was sandwiched between Grimlock and Snarl, with heavy energy cuffs around his wrists and a sour expression on his faceplate. "Nice to see you guys remembered me finally."

"We've been kinda busy!" Brawl snapped back.

"Shut up," Cyclonus growled, his glare fixed on Brawl now. The tankformer grumbled but slunk back.

"We have three of your mechs here," Rodimus replied, "and will bring out the fourth once we've decided on a deal." He paused a moment, both to ensure he had Cyclonus' attention and to prep himself for the likely negative reaction. "We also have a number of Decepticon sparklings in our custody. We're willing to return the prisoners to you if you leave Cybertron... and give up your claim on the sparklings."

Cyclonus didn't even hesitate. "Is that all? Very well. Deal."

The Decepticons erupted into angry shouts and chatter, vehemently protesting the deal. Cyclonus bellowed for silence, but his orders went mostly unheard. It wasn't until he pulled his gun and fired several times over their heads that they finally subsided, but not without an undercurrent of mutinous grumbles and whispers. Behind Rodimus, Swindle swore long and creatively, while Breakdown gave a high whine of dismay.

Rodimus, for his part, simply blinked in astonishment. He'd expected more resistance from the Decepticon leader. "Are you sure about this?"

"I said we had a deal, and I meant it," he replied shortly. "Sparklings are useless to the Decepticon cause - they are weak and worthless on the battlefield. We have no need for them. Keep them and return our warriors."

"My Lord Cyclonus," Onslaught cut in, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his tone diplomatic. "We need our sparklings every bit as much as we need our warriors. They are the Decepticons' future - where will we get new warriors if our sparklings are taken from us-"

"Silence!" Cyclonus snapped. "If you and your comrades are weak enough to fall in battle, we'll build new warriors to replace you. Do not question me again."

Onslaught glared at Cyclonus through a cracked visor, and even when the commander turned his back the Combaticon leader continued to glower, as if hoping to kill him with the strength of his stare.

"Then the deal is final?" asked Rodimus, not wanting to give Cyclonus a chance to reconsider. "You'll take your troops and leave Cybertron, and let us keep the sparklings? And you won't return later to demand them back?"

"It's final," Cyclonus replied impatiently. "Turn over your prisoners immediately."

Rodimus nodded and stepped aside. Grimlock shoved Breakdown and Ramjet forward, and the two of them stumbled briefly before hurrying toward the gathered Decepticons. Hook waved them over and began checking them for damages while Scrapper cut through their cuffs.

"Two down," Vortex noted. "What about Swindle?"

Grimlock bent down and shoved Swindle between the shoulders to get him moving. The jeepformer staggered, but once he regained his balance he remained where he was, jaw clenched and an angry glint in his optics.

"Swindle," Rodimus told him, "you're free to go."

Swindle glared at the Prime, then shook his head. "No."

"Return to your team, Swindle," Cyclonus ordered. "That is an order."

Swindle narrowed his optics. "I'm not going with you. I'm staying."

"Wait, after all that talk about how awful we Autobots are, you want to join us?" demanded Springer.

Rodimus arched an optic ridge. This was new. It hadn't occurred to him that any of their prisoners might want to switch sides, but if Swindle was so insistent...

"Is this about Glory, Swindle?" Onslaught demanded. "You'll give up your place among us and join the Autobots simply because of a sparkling that's not even derived from your programming; that you have no responsibility over?"

Swindle snorted. "I have no desire to join the Autobots. But if Glory stays, I stay. I promised Thundercracker I'd look after her, and the way I see it, I still haven't been released from that duty. And if that means remaining with the Autobots, even as a prisoner... then so be it."

Onslaught gave Swindle a long look, then nodded. Stepping forward, he spoke to Cyclonus in a tone too quiet for Rodimus to hear. Cyclonus scowled and muttered a reply, but Onslaught shook his head. Rodimus amplified his audials as much as he could, but still he could only pick up a word here and there, not nearly enough to piece together what they were talking about.

Finally Onslaught stepped back, and Cyclonus resumed speaking with an irritated frown. "I am altering the deal. You will give us one sparkling, the femme named Glory. Only then will we depart from Cybertron."

"He's not serious, is he?" Magnus murmured. "And we're really not going to hand over a sparkling, are we?"

In response Rodimus merely turned to First Aid. "Is there a femme named Glory among the sparkling survivors?"

First Aid nodded. "That's the violet femme we uncovered in the tower ruins. She and the bodyguard are fully repaired, though the drone's still offline until we decide what to do with him."

"Bring both of them out," Rodimus ordered. "Wait until the sparkling's on her way over before reactivating the drone."

"Rodimus, you can't honestly-" began Magnus.

"One sparkling as the price for the Decepticons leaving Cybertron for good is a far better price than restarting this war," Rodimus replied firmly. "Enough oil has been spilled. We have a chance to end it forever, and I'm taking it. We turn the femme over to the Decepticons."

Magnus frowned. "Cyclonus is NOT going to honor this deal. You know that as well as I do. He'll be back."

"Maybe... but he and his troops are hardly in any shape to challenge us," Rodimus pointed out. "At the very least, this will buy us time to secure Cybertron for ourselves and repair the damage Unicron caused. When Cyclonus breaks his end of the bargain and attacks, we'll be ready."

Magnus' frown didn't fade, but he made no move to argue. He simply stepped back and watched as First Aid led the femme out into the plaza, Hot Spot just behind him with the unconscious drone slung over one shoulder. The sparkling shook with fright and stared at the Autobots surrounding her as if they were hideous monsters, and the moment she saw Swindle she bolted for his side and hugged against him, tucking her head against his hip.

"You've got the kid," Springer muttered. "Now get."

"Suck a diode, Autobot," Swindle shot back, and he walked across the plaza to rejoin his teammates, keeping a slow pace to allow the sparkling to catch up.

"Don't forget the drone," Rodimus added. "Thing's too dangerous to keep, even as a prisoner."

Hot Spot nodded and lowered the drone to the ground. First Aid bent down, flipped a panel on the back of its neck open, and tweaked something in its wiring. Its optics flared to life, and it scrambled to its feet and bolted after Glory, practically shoving itself between her and Swindle. It twisted its neck around to give the Autobots a hateful glower before nuzzling against her like an overly affectionate turbohound. Despite her fear, she managed a smile and hugged it around the neck, murmuring something into its audial receivers.

"That's almost cute," First Aid noted, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Of course the 'Cons would give their kids a vicious pet," Blades grumbled.

Cyclonus just offered Swindle and Glory a disgusted look before returning his attention to the Autobots. "Be warned, Rodimus Prime. This is not the end. Cybertron belongs to the Decepticons, and we WILL return and take what rightfully belongs to us. This I swear."

"You and what army?" Blades demanded, cackling. Hot Spot shut him up with a firm kick in the shin, earning a glare from his teammate.

"Galvatron lives," Cyclonus replied coldly, "and he will return. Watch your back, Rodimus Prime, because sooner or later you'll find it in our sights." He turned back to his troops. "Decepticons, move out!"

Rodimus watched as what was left of the Decepticon army went airborne, rising above the war-scarred landscape of Cybertron and disappearing into the night sky. Only when the last straggler had vanished among the stars did he give the order for the Autobots to stand down and return to their duties.

First Aid was the last Autobot to go, still staring into the night sky. His mask and visor concealed his expression, but the tilt of his head and the hitch of his shoulders suggested something was worrying the young Protectobot.

"Something wrong?" Rodimus asked.

First Aid kept gazing up at the sky. "Did we do the right thing, sir?"

Rodimus sighed. "'Aid, I don't like letting them take the femme either, but if it meant getting the Decepticons off Cybertron-"

"Not that, sir," he replied. "I think... I think we did what's best for her, to be honest."

"You do?" asked Rodimus, arching an optic ridge. "Remember who we're talking about, First Aid. Decepticons. The oil-thirsty monsters who started this whole mess in the first place."

"I know, sir, but she's a Decepticon too. They're her family, and I think letting them have her back was best for everyone. I'm talking about the other sparklings - are we really doing the right thing with them? Separating them from their families like this and turning them into the very things they've been taught to fear all their lives?"

"It's not like we have a choice," Rodimus pointed out. "Would you rather we kept them as Decepticons, and harbored the enemy right under our olfactory sensors? Besides, all the ones left at Shockwave's academy were either captured Autobot or neutral sparklings, or Decepticons young enough that we can rehabilitate them without much trouble. Don't worry so much about it, all right?"

First Aid finally tore his gaze away from the sky to look Rodimus in the optic. "I can't help but worry, sir. You know I don't like to fight, but it's not just because I hate hurting other mechs. It's because I'm terrified that if we keep fighting, we'll end up turning into the very things we're fighting against. And stooping to the Decepticons' level like this... it makes me feel dirty. Almost Decepticon-ish."

"We're doing what's best for those kids," Rodimus replied, injecting as much confidence into his voice as he could. In his CPU, however, he couldn't help but wonder if First Aid had a point. He kept telling himself much the same, that this was best for everyone involved and that the Decepticons wouldn't miss a bunch of sparklings anyhow, but the nagging feeling that they were making a mistake lingered.

"I just don't know, sir," First Aid sighed, and he turned and walked off.

Rodimus spared one last look at the sky, but the Decepticons had already faded from sight. Briefly he wondered where they were going, and where they would call home now that Cybertron no longer belonged to them.

"Chaar?" repeated Brawl, twisting the word around in his mouth as if it was something disgusting. "Pit, even the name sounds horrible."

"You have the unique ability to make anything you say sound horrible," Hook muttered. "Hold still so I can finish your repairs."

"What's on Chaar that we're going there?" Vortex demanded. "If it was an energon hot spot or a Decepticon outpost, we'd've heard of it, right?"

"Haven't a clue," Swindle replied. "I'm just repeating what I heard. Don't shoot the messenger."

The Decepticons were crowded aboard Astrotrain - the shuttleformer wasn't nearly big enough to carry so many, but seeing as all the transports were either destroyed, missing, or in the hands of the Autobots, it wasn't as if they had much choice. The triple-changer now laborously made his way away from Cybertron, grumbling the whole way. Hook had claimed one corner of the passenger bay as a makeshift medbay and was doing what he could to patch up the wounded, but for the most part everyone just huddled together and miserably awaited whatever was to come.

"It only makes sense, I suppose," said Blast Off, idly tapping his fingers against his remaining leg. "We're no longer welcome on Cybertron, and most of the Decepticon outposts are now abandoned thanks to Megatron consolidating our forces on Cybertron - a mistake if you ask me. The humans had a saying about putting all one's chickens in one basket-"

"I thought it was eggs," Brawl cut in. "Eggs in one basket."

"No, it was counting one's eggs before they're hatched," Blast Off replied. "Trust me."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Brawl insisted.

"Enough!" Onslaught ordered. "Bickering over silly human phrases is pointless. I suggest everyone focus on conserving their energy for whatever awaits us on Chaar. We don't know what sort of threats we'll face there, and it may be we have to go in fighting in order to establish a base there."

"Oh joy," Vortex grumbled. "As if we haven't been beaten up enough already."

"Enough out of you," Onslaught ordered. "Any other news, Swindle?"

Swindle shrugged. "Cyclonus ain't the talkative type. Couldn't get anything out of him except that we had to get to Chaar and we had to find Galvatron. Nothing else."

Onslaught snorted. "I get the distinct feeling from our new commander that his loyalty is more to a single mech than to a cause." He lowered his voice until only Hook and the Combaticons could hear. "Watch yourselves. I've seen this sort of commander before, and the danger of working under the fanatically loyal is that they're perfectly willing to sacrifice anything, even and especially lives, to further their cause."

"You're suggesting that Cyclonus means to kill us all," said Hook with a raised optic ridge.

"I'm suggesting that Cyclonus wouldn't hesitate to send us on a suicidal mission if he thought it would aid Galvatron," Onslaught replied. "So indirectly, yes. I think he'll be the doom of us."

Brawl gave a maniacal little giggle. "The Bunny of Doom... that's funny."

"Please don't call him that to his face," Swindle groaned. "I'd rather not frag him off any more than we have to."

"Swindle has a valid point," Onslaught noted, nodding at the jeepformer. "For once. I advise... no, I order my team to have no more contact with Cyclonus than is absolutely necessary. Do nothing treasonous or insubordinate, but do not seek his favor, for I doubt you'll get it. If we're to survive this new leadership, we must keep our heads down and draw no undue attention."

"And if he orders us to do something that we know'll get us killed?" asked Vortex.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," Onslaught replied. "And Swindle?"

"Yessir?"

"I would advise utmost caution out of you," he warned. "Your stunt back on Cybertron has already drawn Cylonus' attention, and if you are serious about taking charge of Glory with Thundercracker's death, you'll continue to draw his scrutiny. Watch yourself, and keep her from angering him needlessly. He has already made it clear that he considers her nothing more than a nuisance."

Swindle nodded. "Yessir. I'll do what I can." His gaze moved to the corner, where Glory was huddled with Wildfire while the cassettes tried to cheer her up. "Though I doubt she's going to be in the mood for hassling him for awhile. Losing her uncle did a number on her."

Onslaught watched the sparkling a moment, and though his face was concealed from view, Swindle almost thought he looked sympathetic. "She will be a good warrior someday... but don't get yourself killed trying to protect her. At this moment you are more valuable to us than she is."

Swindle winced. He couldn't argue with that statement, but that didn't mean it was any less harsh. "Understood."

Onslaught nodded, then turned to go. Swindle waited to see if Hook needed his help, but when the Constructicon didn't ask for it he headed for Glory's corner of the ship. Maybe she wouldn't accept comfort at the moment, but the least he could do was be there for her.

Chaar was ugly. There was no nice way to put it. It was an organic world only in the loosest sense of the term, in that it was a rocky planet rather than a metallic one. Beyond that, it was utterly barren - no plants, no animals, no insects, no native living creatures whatsoever. Nor was there any surface water to be seen, or evidence that there had ever been any. The sky was a dark, drab gray-blue without a star to be seen, doubtless due to some quirk of the atmosphere, while the rest of the landscape was barren rock of the same unvarying shade of gray. The only interruption in the bleakness was a spot of violet metal touching down atop a plateau overlooking a jagged-looking expanse of rock and gravel.

Glory pulled Dragon out of subspace and clutched the toy tightly as she stepped out of Astrotrain, wincing as a cold wind blasted grit against her. It was like what one of Skywarp's movies had said - if there was a bright center to the universe, they were on the planet it was farthest from.

"It's even worse than I pictured!" Vortex grumbled. "This planet's dead!"

"It's a secure base of operations until we find Galvatron," Cyclonus replied sharply. "Everyone out of the ship. Scout the area. Motormaster, take your team and search for energy sources. Constructicons, find a site where we can begin building our base. Seekers, Sweeps, do aerial reconnaissance. Combaticons, remain here and stand guard. We don't know what lurks here."

While the Decepticons spread out to carry out Cyclonus' commands, Glory went to the edge of the plateau and sat down, dangling her legs over the side and gazing out at the rocky wasteland that was now home. Wildfire stood beside her, resting his head on her shoulder, and she absently reached up to scratch at the side of his face. At least one mech who loved her was still around.

She knew Swindle was taking charge of her now that her uncle was gone, and it wasn't as if she hated him - he had been her favorite teacher and the one Combaticon she had gotten along with. But it wasn't the same as having her uncle's calm, caring presence around, or Skywarp's friendly teasing. Or, if her memory banks went back far enough, the warmth and security of her creators, Piston's protectiveness and Windblade's boundless enthusiasm. Swindle meant well, but even she could tell that he wasn't at all sure about being a foster parent, and that he was fairly clueless about how to proceed.

And she missed her uncle, now more than ever. Were he still around, Cyclonus' presence might actually be bearable. She wouldn't like the purple mech any better, but at least Uncle T would have been there to protect her.

"Kid?"

Glory turned. "Rumble?"

"Kind of a depressing place, ain't this?," noted the purple cassette, moving to sit at Glory's side opposite Wildfire. "Least there's plenty of open sky. Good for flying, pretty sure you'd like that."

She shrugged. "I guess."

"You guess?" He stood up and reached up to press a hand to her helm. "You got a virus or somethin', kid? CPU overheating or somethin'?"

She shook her head. "Don't feel like flying."

Rumble sighed. "Kid, I know you miss TC. And I know things have been rough the past few days. But you can't be down about it forever. You got your whole life ahead of you still, and you can't spend it mopin'. Well, you can, but it'd be a frag of a boring life."

Glory hugged Wildfire's head to hers. "But I miss him... him and Uncle Skywarp... and even Megatron..."

"I know, kid," Rumble replied softly. He was quiet a moment, as if searching his CPU for something. "Your uncle ever tell you about the Well of All Sparks?"

She had to think about that for a minute. "A little... that it was the place all Cybertronian sparks come from, and where they go back to when they die. He said it was just a legend, though."

"That'd be a TC thing to say," Rumble muttered. "But hey, the legend had to start somewhere, right? It might even be true. In fact... I think it's true."

She turned to look at him, not sure if he was teasing her or not... but at that moment wanting to believe him. "Really?"

"Really, kid," he told her, smiling a little. "Which means your uncle might not be here in the chassis, but his spark lives on. And maybe he's watchin' you right now, from the Well of All Sparks."

For the first time in what felt like ages, a smile tugged at her lip plates. "And maybe I'll see him again?"

"Maybe," Rumble replied, "but not for a long time. Remember, you got your whole life ahead of you. And I'm sure your uncle would've wanted you to make him proud. To be a good Decepticon for him, and to live your life to the fullest."

Whether Rumble was truly speaking from his spark or just trying to make Glory feel better, his words filled Glory with warmth. It wasn't happiness, not exactly... but it was hope, a feeling she didn't think she would ever feel again. It didn't make her miss her uncle any less, but it helped to soothe some of the pain in her spark.

"Thanks, Rumble," she said softly, smiling a little.

"That's my girl," he replied, patting her arm. "Hey, since Cyc didn't give Frenzy and I any orders, want to go explore a bit? Maybe we can find a nice little hidey-hole to hang out or stash things."

"Okay." She stood and pulled herself onto Wildfire's back, nudging the horseformer after Rumble as the cassette hurried off to find his brother. She knew things wouldn't go entirely back to normal for a long time, if ever. But life did go on, and there was still so much to do and see, even on Chaar.