The Lord of the Decepticons watched with narrow optics as the femme and her second sparred in the training field. They were good, he had to give them that. The mech was short and quick, but the femme was quicker still and, while not as strong, she was intelligent and knew how and when to strike. She expertly turned the mech's own momentum and energy on himself, sliding past his swing and grabbing his wrist to pull him off balance. She gave him a firm shove that sent him to the ground, though he rolled away and to his feet before she could take advantage of his vulnerability. They grinned and bantered as they fought. It was a fun thing for them, a way to pass the time and show off.

Starscream didn't like it. He'd been watching them closely ever since he'd arrived several cycles earlier, and what he saw did not please him. They were too close. They spent too much time alone where nobody could see or hear—even himself, despite his best efforts to plant her quarters. He'd started asking around and the theories were… colorful, to say the least. But that's all they were. Theories. Nobody had any real answers, and right now answers were what Starscream wanted. He could not afford to have any sort of faction within his upper ranks, especially not in a province like the Tagan Heights. This closeness was dangerous, they were dangerous. He was quickly beginning to think he might have to intervene before the two of them decided they could make something of their skills. He had pulled similar interventions before, most notably to his own trine mates, before… well, before Thundercracker turned traitor and took his Matrix.

Starscream's thoughts and expression turned sour at that, and he scowled out at Verasuvius and Ricochet. Yes, this little clique they had here was not good. But until he could discover the exact nature of their exclusive club, he wasn't sure exactly how drastic his action against it should be. It would be a bother to have to destroy either, since they were very effective and reasonable leaders of one of the most important provinces on the planet. He did understand that, despite his critical attitude toward the femme. That was why he was so concerned about this.

Their mock battle raged on, oblivious to his suspicion. But then it hit the seeker, exactly where he could find some of the answers he wanted, and a sly smirk came to his face before he turned away, leaving them to it.

He headed straight for the med-bay.

~0~

His name was Cheapshot, their CMO. He had a moderately sized bay set strategically close to the manufacturing plants, but still close enough to the main complex to serve both, and he was well stocked and fairly well staffed, Starscream had discovered. He had already been around to the bay on the grand tour of the base his second day here, but had had little interest in meeting the CMO at the time. Now, as he stepped through the doors and looked around, he was satisfied to find only one mech in the room, that being Cheapshot himself, sitting in the back corner at his desk with his pedes up, lazily playing some game on his large computer.

Cheapshot gestured at him vaguely, not looking up. "Take a seat, I'll be there in a moment."

The seeker's optics narrowed at the affront to his position, ignorant though it was, and he raised his arm to take aim.

Cheapshot jerked and dove aside as the beam of energy arced past his head to hit the computer, shutting it down with an alarmed blip.

"What the frag—" the orange and green mech snarled, scrambling up with a large medical saw in place of his arm, and then he froze. Horror swept across his face and he straightened, transforming the saw back into his arm and standing at attention. "Lord Starscream, forgive me, I was not aware that…"

"Oh, quit your groveling. If I was going to kill you, you'd be dead." The seeker snapped, crossing his arms and trying to look bigger. It was working, at least on the stockier mech. "As it is, killing you, though it is well within my rights, would be counter-productive, since I have questions that you need to answer."

"I… what kind of questions, my Lord?" Cheapshot wondered nervously, eying the volatile Decepticon leader.

"Questions concerning Verasuvius and Ricochet." Starscream said.

"Really? Well then, by all means Lord Starscream, ask away." The CMO urged, seeming a bit relieved.

Starscream noticed and filed the reaction away for future investigation, but stayed on topic. He wandered over to a medical device and inspected it. He didn't really know what it was for, but his interest seemed to be having the desired effect of making Cheapshot fidget even more. "Yes. They're close, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I think anybody on base would agree with that, sir."

"And how often are they in for medical treatment?" the seeker asked, opening a few cupboards to find various supplies and a few tucked away test tubes full of some sort of liquid. Experiments, it looked like. He would have to ask about that, when he was done.

"Well, not all that often, and never for anything very serious. Ricochet's been in for damage before, after raids in the Canyon, but Verasuvius only comes in very rarely."

"Still, you've had the opportunity to run full medical diagnostics on both of them on more than one occasion, correct?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Starscream turned to regard him closely. "So the rumors. Is there any truth to them?"

Cheapshot blinked, and then smirked. "You're the first mecha who's ever really asked me that, you know. You'd think it would occur to more people around here that I would know."

"Are they?" Starscream glared a bit, reminding the mech of his place, and Cheapshot sobered.

"Ah, no, sir. They're not. At all."

"Hmm." He hummed in thought, optics narrowing further. "Now isn't that curious." He murmured to himself.

Cheapshot stood by for several moments, shifting as the seeker remained unmoved, lost in his musings. Then he abruptly turned back to a cupboard.

"What exactly is this, in here?" he asked, and Cheapshot jumped forward to begin explaining.

~0~

Raids were scheduled every other on-cycle and the search patterns shifted every week. It was a fairly complex strategy Verasuvius had drawn up to catch Autobots and their raiding parties, and it would have been rather effective if she didn't hand the plans over to Streetwise every time she changed them so he could plan around them. They had an agreement going; about every other Decacycle or so he would schedule a group to run into one of her raiding parties, assuming they didn't find a new group on their own. He ran the scouts close to their search areas on a regular basis, so the Decepticons would know they'd been nearby, but they often missed the Autobots and it didn't come to violence. There were a few occasions, every so often, where something did go wrong, but that just meant Streetwise would withdraw a bit, keeping everybody closer and out of harm's way. It was all just an intricate dance to keep suspicion down and the 'Cons happy. It worked very well, most of the time.

This time was different.

"Well, well, well, look what the photovoltaic cat dragged in."

There were some sneers and rumbling chuckles around the courtyard as Starscream stepped out of the dark entranceway to appraise the line of pathetic rebels, smirking cruelly at every one of them. Several ducked or flinched, dread settling in their tanks. Verasuvius was safe; at least they knew most of them would end up down the Hole, and the one or two kept back would show up the next day physically repaired, if a little shaken and unwilling to talk about what had happened. Starscream preferred to have his prisoners killed in front of him. No safety net to catch them when the firing squad took out their laser cores, that was for sure.

He started off the same as he usually did, strutting and preening and mocking the Autobots at his mercy, and they kept their heads down and their vocalizers muted, knowing this wasn't going to end the way all the other captures had. Verasuvius watched the display with a twisting smile and dark amusement in her crimson optics. Ricochet had limped down to the med-bay as soon as they arrived, and the femme couldn't help but think that was a good thing. Even she wasn't sure if this was going to end well.

She was going to try and make it work, though.

Starscream's browbeating was winding down and he surveyed the pathetic scrap-heaps once more, optics narrowed. "Now, I have an offer for you. The traitor that calls himself Thunderous Prime and leads you." He snarled the name, and then worked to calm himself a bit. "I want to know his location. The first of you who provides an answer gets to live."

Vera watched the mechs intently. They all glanced at each other surreptitiously, as if waiting for someone to speak up, trying to decide what to do. There was an almost palpable undercurrent of 'yeah, right' to some of the glances, and nobody said anything.

Starscream growled. "Very well." He pointed to one of the Autobots. "Bring him here." He ordered. A guard hauled the poor mech up and half dragged him to the seeker, grinning nastily as he shoved the 'Bot at Starscream's feet. Smirking again, Starscream took aim directly at the mech's head. "Anything to say, Autobot?" he sneered.

Verasuvius stepped up before anything more could happen. "If I may make a suggestion, my Lord."

He scowled over his shoulder at her, aim unwavering. The unfortunate Autobot threw an almost hopeful glance up at her. "What?" the larger seeker snapped. The femme gave both mechs a rather vindictive smile.

"It's been a longstanding tradition of the Tagan Heights to dispose of our prisoners by throwing them into the Hole at the end of the Canyon. I find it quite amusing to watch the ground-pounders fall flailing into its depths, and very few things loosen the glossa like the threat of endless falling." She turned her sharp gaze on the Autobot. "At least, for a groundling."

"Afraid to get your hands dirty, femme?" Starscream sneered.

Verasuvius smirked. "No more than you are, my Lord. I merely find it lasts longer than a shot to the head."

The mech eyed her, and then took a step back. "Very well, you deal with this one my way, and I'll deal with the rest your way. Tradition must be kept after all." His grin was almost predatory as Verasuvius twitched her wings agreeably. She slid a dangerous look down on the Autobot, moving forward into the spot Starscream had vacated.

"Your Lord asked you a question, Autobot." She fairly purred, reaching out to wrap her hand around the back of his neck. The Autobot leaned away from her touch nervously, blue optic band flickering. He was larger than most of the others, built heavily with defense in mind. Traces of paint indicated that he might have been black at one point, but now it was hard to tell.

Star knew who he was, though.

"He's not my Lord." The mech stated quietly.

Vera chuckled a bit. "No? You're on his planet. That makes him your Lord."

He twitched away from her again, but her grip tightened. "It's not his planet, either." He added, a stolid defiance in his tone.

"Hmm, pity you think that. Anything to say before you die, Autobot?" she repeated the question.

Trailbreaker was firmly silent.

"If you insist."

The strike was so fast that there was a stunned silence in the courtyard for a moment. Trailbreaker's optic band flickered again as Verasuvius stepped back, inspecting the pink and blue liquid dripping from her claws, and then he gurgled and slowly collapsed, energon pooling on the ground beneath him.

"Cleaning up is always a problem, isn't it?" the femme noted nonchalantly. She turned her attention to the other Autobots. "Now, for the rest of them." She nodded deferentially to Starscream and he gestured to the guards. They started hauling the prisoners to their pedes and herding them toward the transport waiting for them.

Verasuvius turned to Starscream as he watched with a satisfied smirk. "Meet you at the Hole?" she said with a slight bow. The seeker uncrossed his arms and moved off without replying. Vera turned to address Ricochet, who had just rejoined the party. "Bring the body. We can drop it down the Hole with the others."

She walked away, noticing as she did the last Autobot in line look sorrowfully back at his friend as the mech continued to bleed his life away.

Hound, she thought, though she carried on to take off after Starscream as if she hadn't seen and didn't care either way.

Forgive me.

~0~

The slice was deep, but clean. Still, the mech was going to bleed out before self-repair could do anything about it—before anybody could do anything about it. Jazz pretended he didn't care as the energon pooled around his pedes, leaning casually against the side of the transport with an easy smirk on his face as he chatted with one of the guards. Harming members of his own faction while undercover wasn't a new concept to the saboteur, after all. It was something long-term infiltrators had to come to grips with and be ready to do, in the event that there was no other way to maintain their cover. He was good at keeping face.

There wasn't anything he could do for the mech. There was only one thing that could save him now.

So as soon as the transport hovered to a stop about a quarter of the way across the Hole, he placed his foot on the chassis, noting the extremities that were already starting to grey, and shoved him off with a quick prayer that First Aid was standing ready and would be able to save him.

Ricochet leaned over to watch the body fall, making a whistling noise as it did. "The way the slagger was leakin' all over, we're gonna have to put the whole transport through a detox wash when we get back." He quipped to the guard he'd been talking to. The 'Con laughed harshly.

"And Commander Verasuvius will have our helms if we don't!" he agreed boisterously. So close to the Hole, the only reason they could hear each other at all was because of the sonic buffers installed in the transport, creating a shield of relative quiet around them.

Neither mech noticed as the nearest prisoner lifted his head, face twisted with hate. It wasn't a typical expression for the Autobot to have, but that just made it all the more ferocious when he threw himself at Ricochet. He was too angry to yell or say something. He just plowed into the other mech as he leaned over the wide opening, and they both went tumbling off the transport.

The rest of the Autobots looked at each other, blinking with 'why didn't we think of that earlier?' expressions, and almost as one rushed the remaining guards. Half of them made it off, dragging three Decepticons with them. The others were restrained.

Meanwhile, Jazz twisted in mid-air to grab Hound and pull him closer so he would hear what he said. The noise of the Hole was almost deafening now that the sound dampener was gone.

"Hound!" he yelled, and the mech, though still glaring hatefully, did pay attention. "Tell him we're sorry!"

Then he pushed away and turned again, arm shifting. A grapple shot out to latch onto a dark blur as it streaked past, pulling him with it almost straight up. The guards and Autobots fell past them and Jazz waved at the falling 'Cons, relishing the looks on their faces as they went to their deaths. The net would catch them, same as it caught the others, but there would only be more Autobots waiting for them at the bottom. And Jazz could honestly say he didn't feel even a teeny bit bad for them.

Vera changed directions abruptly and he began to swing up, moving his weight with the motion and knowing exactly when she was going to release. Like a cat, he twisted in the air and landed gracefully on the transport in a crouch before rising with a grin.

"That was exciting." He said.

"Hmm, don't expect me to save you every time you're slow enough to let an Autobot get you." Verasuvius warned as she landed, shoving the shorter mech to the side just hard enough to make him stumble.

"How was I to know the glitch was gonna go all suicide-assassin on me?" he complained, and then fell silent as he took his post on the end of the transport, in the puddle of fluids left by Trailbreaker.

"Well then. Now that that's all sorted out." Vera said. "Shall we begin?"

She grabbed one of the mechs by the throat and swung around to lean him out over the Hole. He jumped and resisted out of instinctual fear of falling. He understood, though he had never been captured before, that something would stop him from splattering at the bottom. That didn't mean he was comfortable with the idea.

"Where is Thunderous?" she demanded.

~0~

Nobody would tell them anything, not that it surprised Vera and Ricochet. Why would they say something when it was a completely empty death threat?

Of course the point was to appease the other Decepticons, not get information, and at least Skywarp was heartily entertained to watch the Autobots fall, Starscream less so but still enough to be satisfied, despite the lack of results. Mission accomplished.

In spite of their success, the rest of the day was tense for the both of them. The instant Starscream was occupied with something that would hold his attention for long enough, Star was gone. Most of the cycle was already past. It had been over 13 joors since they had dropped the mortally wounded Trailbreaker, but there was still a chance she could help.

First Aid was cleaning his tools when she emerged out of the back wall of the med-bay. He looked tired. More than tired.

He looked weary. The kind of weary Ratchet was.

He looked up with a dull optic band and Star's vents caught. She didn't have to ask. First Aid didn't have to answer. He simply lowered his helm, visor flickering off for a moment, and then went back to his work.

Star sagged back against the wall, disbelief and hurt confusion on her face. "But…I calculated, I… left a whole 15% margin of error, I… I…"

First Aid shook his helm. "He got caught in the crossfire while the reception team was taking out the 'Cons. Stray shot. I tried but…" his already soft voice faded to the quietest whisper. "It wasn't good enough."

"This is not your fault, Aid!" He flinched at her shout and she struggled to lower her voice a bit. "This is my fault. I should have been more careful, I should have found another way, I should have known…" she wavered, falling back against the wall again. "I should have told Streetwise to keep them away. This is my fault. Primus." She buried her face in her hands. "Hound saw the whole thing. Primus."

First Aid blew out a soft vent, and continued to clean.

Eventually, the femme straightened and composed herself before walking past the Protectobot to the operating room where the greyed chassis was laying, waiting to be recycled. Hound was sitting against the wall, head down, listlessly fingering the scraped and faded red insignia that had adorned his best friend's chest plate. Star paused, fists clenching for a moment before she moved to kneel beside the mech and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I am so sorry, Hound." She murmured.

The once-green scout paused, trying to keep his hands from shaking, and didn't look up or reply.

"If there's anything you need, let us know." She squeezed his shoulder gently and then rose, looking once more at Trailbreaker before walking back out.

~0~

When Jazz made it up a couple joors later she was sitting at the little table closest to the Hole, energon dispenser up and several empty cubes beside her. Her face was buried in her hands and she didn't acknowledge the mech as he walked closer, his spark sinking with every step.

He halted beside her and reached out to run his hand up and down the back edge of one of her wings, a gesture she'd told him was actually really relaxing; the seeker equivalent of a back rub. "He didn' make it, did he?" Jazz asked quietly.

"No. He didn't." she whispered, her voice rough with emotion. She slowly sat up, pulling her hands down her face tiredly and letting out a deep vent. Her optics were an acid green again.

"There wasn't anythin' more you coulda done, Star," he tried to comfort her.

She snorted violently. "Don't try to tell me that, Jazz." She bit back. "It's nothing more than a lie."

She turned her back to him and he closed his mouth. There would be no reasoning with the femme while she was in this mood, so he sat down in the other seat and grabbed himself a cube of high grade to wait.

They sat in depressed silence for a while as the femme stared bitterly out the window at the Hole.

"How's Hound?" Jazz asked after a few breems.

Star deflated even more, wings wilting. "He wouldn't even talk to me." She shook her helm. "He's the first one we've ever lost, Jazz. The first to be captured and killed. And I… I was the one who killed him." She looked over at her friend, perhaps the only mecha who could understand what she was trying to say, with horror on her face. "Not Starscream. Me. Just me."

Jazz's face was set grimly, and he took his pedes off the table to lean forward, setting his energon down. "I'm not saying I don't feel ya, Star, 'cause you know I do. But we both know that our cover is more important than any one Autobot. 'Cept probably Prime. You say it's a lie, but it's not. There wasn't anythin' you could've done that woulda kept our cover better'n what you did. Trail woulda agreed to take that hit if we'd told him beforehand."

Star offlined her optics and slowly lowered her helm into her hands again. "Maybe." She muttered. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he would have." She peeked out at the mech after a moment, and she looked tired. "But is Hound gonna believe that when the day comes that I have to explain to him why I killed his best friend?"

Jazz held her gaze for a moment. "I don't know. I guess you'll jus' hafta find out."

She blew out a vent, offlining her optics again, and Jazz leaned across the table to touch her shoulder. "But I'll be there with ya. We'll find out together. Promise."

Star didn't respond.

~0~

That off-cycle they were both downstairs in the community, standing respectfully with every 'Bot in the base that wasn't on duty and couldn't get the scant few minutes off that it would take to be here. Hot Spot was up front on a raised platform with a small case that represented the deceased, and Hound was beside him. The base commander's eulogy was short and simple, and then he stepped back and let Hound take the stage.

The mech stood for a moment, staring out at the small crowd of mecha, still clutching that scuffed and mistreated insignia, and then he took a deep vent.

"Trail and I teamed up right after… well, right after It happened. When we got separated from our unit after a battle, he… he saved my life. For all these vorns, we watched each other's backs, and if we hadn't had each other we would have both been dead a long time ago. I don't know what I'm going to do without him." He turned to the little coffin and set the insignia on it. His next words were quiet, but everybody still heard them. "I'll miss you, buddy."

Hound stepped back and Hot Spot nodded for the salute to start. Jazz looked over in time to see Star already slipping out of the crowd toward the elevator, and he let her go. He could handle what needed to be done here, and when she was done throwing things he would come back up and make sure she didn't do something really stupid, like get them caught.

Unless the really stupid thing was to kill Starscream. Then he was all for it.