Fandom: Transformers G1
Pairing: Skywarp/Ezara
Rating: NC-17
Codes: Het
Summary: On the way home from meeting the man in charge of creating her costume, Ezara ditches Jazz and steals some time for Skywarp.


Wanderer's Home 22: Illicit Encounter


Ezara's flight to India was a long, lazy one, so she didn't out-pace Jazz. "The quality is really so much better here, that it's worth the travel?"

"For the style you're lookin' for, yep," Jazz replied. "They're used to that here, 'n the tailor we'll be meetin' with is 'o of the best - and the most used to workin' with your type of materials. There's the factory," he pointed to a large building in the middle of an overcrowded city. "It'll be fine," he reached out to touch her arm lightly when she transformed to her base mode for landing. "They're good people."

Ezara nodded slightly, and landed very carefully in the loading zone at the back of the factory. He could feel that she still has to make an effort to remember humans were people, but she was making the effort, and he was sure the long hours with Sparkplug over Dinobot schematics were doing a lot of good. Overall, it was a marked improvement over three weeks earlier.

A well-dressed, dark-skinned man came out and waved to them. "Greetings, my friends," his English was perfect, with only a light accent. "It is good to finally meet the one all this excitement is over."

"A pleasure to see you too, Vajrani," Jazz said. "I hope this isn't gonna be too big a problem for ye?"

"Not at all!" Vajrani said easily. "I always keep a portion of my floor for special jobs. This will be a joy; how many men can truly say they've made clothes for the ruler of a planet, in a style like nothing on this world?"

"Only you," Jazz grinned at him. "May I introduce Toe'Emirc Ezara Onyan'a of the Vistra, the military ruler of Lydrom," he bowed and motioned to her with a flourish.

Vajrani bowed politely, looking up at her when he rose. "Toe'Emirc, welcome to my establishment. If you will come inside, I have refreshments for the both of you, and we can discuss your order?" He suggested, motioning towards a large storeroom he had set aside and furnished for this meeting.

"Yes," she nodded and followed him inside, Jazz right behind her.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Vajrani motioned to the two mech-sized overstuffed chairs as he climbed to a platform that would put him closer to eye level with the pair when he sat down. "I have reviewed the specifics and I do not foresee any difficulty in completing it within the timeframe."

"Good," Ezara relaxed in the chair and took the delicate glass she recognized from Jazz's set, filled with glittering black energon. "The translucence of the fabric is of great importance, more than it's durability, if necessary. My markings must be visible through it."

"It won't be a problem," he reassured her. "If I may ask, how important are the exact materials used for the clothes?" He asked her. "We have some that would make them more durable for their translucence. They are typically used for celebrities, dancers, and figure skaters, but they would work exquisitely for your purposes."

Ezara thought about it, double-checked with Rawlind and Singer, and flicked her chin to the right. "As long as it's organic, the exact material is less important than the effect."

"Like Cybertron, Lydrom is a completely mechanical world," Jazz added. "As such, anything of organic origin is of extreme value."

"Thus far more suited for one of importance," Vajrani nodded in understanding. "It will be more difficult to make durable, but I do have options for you," he told her easily.

"Durability is of little importance," Ezara told him easily and sipped her drink. "It only needs to survive a few hours, until the welcoming is done, then I will have a uniform from home to wear."

"Ah," he nodded in full comprehension of what she was after, at least in function.

"The final result, when I am wearing it, should look like this," she placed a holoprojector on the platform and turned it on. The image that appeared was human-sized, and showed her in full body paint, her entire form glittering in the light with complex patterns in a dozen colors. The loose, flowing garment draped on her shoulders and hips would be barely legal on a human if it wasn't translucent.

As displayed, with what she would look like wearing it, the pattern and translucence, Vajrani saw the full effect that he hadn't understood before. It went from an alien idea with her simple chrome finish to something beautiful. Still alien, but a walking piece of art where the garment's vulnerability to damage was part of the appeal.

"I can do this for you," he told her confidently. "How soon will it need to be completed?"

"In roughly two years," she told him. "I will have a date closer to when they arrive."

"Easily done," he nodded, full of confidence. "Will you be available for a fitting, when it is close to completion?"

"Of course," Ezara agreed. "I can be contacted through the Autobots when you need my presence."

"Thank you. May we keep this model?" he motioned to the hologram. "It will be most useful."

Ezara glanced at Jazz, who nodded.

"No prob," Jazz grinned. "It's yours."

"I will let you know when we are ready for a fitting," Vajrani nodded easily. "Enjoy your time in India, and your trip home."

"Thank you," Ezara said and stood with Jazz.

He brushed a hand lightly against her arm. "You did good in there," he smiled, keeping the conversation silent.

"Thanks," she smiled back before the contact was broken as they took off and she transformed into her jet mode. She couldn't play with her speed, but it was good practice in close-quarters maneuvering, and Jazz was a willing target.

"How are things going with the Dinobots?" Jazz asked her as they traveled.

"Very well," she grinned. "The bodies are easy to repair, the processor upgrades and programming changes will take time, but the integrations seemed to go well so far. It's a lot of work, and boring as anything to listen to Mitrix and Wheeljack talk for hours on end about things I don't even begin to understand. He likes her though."

"He likes anybody who can keep up with him without going too deep into the Perceptor-zone," Jazz laughed. "When you're talkin' about the brains, there's Ratchet, there's Wheeljack an' then there's Perceptor - the rest of us need a translator when he gets going."

"That's true with any specialist," she laughed easily. "I'm used to translating, with the number of them I live with."

"How's it been, working with Sparkplug?" he asked her, taking the chance to open the topic of humans.

"Odd," she admitted. "It's still hard to think about that level of conversation coming out of a creature that small, but even Rawlind agreed you have to be people-smart to do what he's done in front of us. Training and mimicry only go so far. Then you have to understand what you're doing, and he understands."

"Very well," Jazz agreed, pleased that she was coming around. "He came from working an oil rig to working with Wheeljack in a matter of weeks," he pointed out.

"Oil rigs must be complicated," Ezara said, curious about the leap. "Or he was not put to good use."

"A bit of both," Jazz chuckled. "He says the work pays well, and it was a good shot for Spike. Y'have to remember too, good mechanics are more important to us than to humans."

"I suppose so," she considered it. It made sense, in a way. Modern humans, their way of life, was as dependent on mechanics, but their survival as a species wasn't. "Why does he keep Spike's mother away from us? He hasn't spoken of her yet."

"He doesn't keep her away," Jazz explained. "She died giving birth to him - it's another problem with bio-life. The others haven't even thought to ask about it," he admitted.

"Oh," Ezara murmured. "He's done well to raise a youngling alone."

"I certainly think so," Jazz agreed. "Especially once I found out what's involved in it. Sparkplug's invested almost twenty-three percent of his life expectancy into raising Spike, with more to go. So much simpler the way we do things."

"You really come out knowing everything you need to, fully mature?" she asked as she did a long, slow barrel roll around him. "It didn't feel that way, not to Optimus."

"No way!" Jazz laughed. "But at least we come out talking and toilet trained!"

"You're joking," Ezara stilled her rotation momentarily. "They can't talk when they're born? How do they survive if they can't communicate?"

"They have to learn how to talk," Jazz confirmed. "And mostly by having very understanding parents to care for them, sometimes almost constantly."

"Wow. How long are they helpless?" she asked, fascinated by the very idea of being dependant for survival, rather than just a leg-up in life.

"Usually about seven years, maybe a little longer, before they can start to help out seriously. Then it's about another ten or so before they can try getting by on their own reliably. So it's about a quarter of their expected lifespan, roughly," Jazz told her. "And that's just picking up life-skills and such, not counting the time before they've really gotten over the 'stupid, gullible, impetuous kid' phase."

"That is an unbelievable investment in a youngling," she said in amazement, stung slightly by the reminder that she wasn't out of the 'stupid, gullible, impetuous kid' phase. "How do they maintain their population that way?"

"A human woman can have one a metacycle, sometimes more often. It's common to have two to five children," he explained. "Sometimes they have more. Hey!" He had to jerk out of the way as she almost fell on top of him when she put too much into processing and not enough into maintaining her position.

"Sorry," Ezara murmured. "That's ... it's just unbelievable. Even breeders don't produce five in a ganon! And never while they are still raising one. Not unless the Spark splits in two when created," she added belatedly as she remembered about twins.

"Most animals will breed to death," Jazz tried to explain. "Humans are one of the few who are not constantly pregnant or lactating. They still have this planet populated over capacity."

"Wow," she murmured again, trying to wrap her processors around it. "Mind if I stretch my wings?" she asked politely. "I'll meet you back at HQ."

"Just be careful," Jazz looked over at her. "You're...."

"I know, I won't get in a fight," she promised. "I'm faster than anything on this planet, or Cybertron for that matter. I can get out."

"All right," he agreed, only slightly reluctant. It wasn't that he doubted her word, or that it was the truth, so much that he had a fairly good idea how much of an enemy she had in Megatron right now. "Just be back before dark at the Ark."

"Agreed," she all but grinned across the transmission. Her engines powered up and she shot forward, swooping down and left while still in visual range to skim over the water. Then she was vertical, and he lost sight of her.

"I hope that won't be a mistake," Jazz murmured to himself as he continued home.


::Ezara,:: Skywarp's communication caught her by surprise, but gave her enough warning before he warped in next to her that she wasn't startled into shooting at him.

"Change your mind?" she asked as they began a lazy aerial dance.

"About ... uh, no," he answered. "I... just wanted to see you were okay. You shouldn't have attacked Megatron like that."

"He had me by the throat," she pointed out with a sigh, not wanting to make it more confusing by trying to explain what had actually happened.

"But he wouldn't have hurt you if you'd been still," Skywarp persisted. "He doesn't want to hurt you, baby. He'll give you what you want. You'll be Air Commander, he'll let you kill Starscream ... he'll be your lover," he added much more reluctantly.

"Sky," her tone was gentle as they spiraled around each other as they rose into the upper atmosphere. "I'm the ruler of Lydrom. Decepticon Air Commander is a demotion. But I have a place for you. A flier is valuable, as is your ability to warp. You know I'm a better leader than Starscream, and a much better lover."

"You are," he consented. "I'm a Decepticon, Ezara. It's all I'll ever be."

"Then I'll see you when you decide you can trust me more than Megatron," she said before breaking away and powering up enough to leave him behind.

::Wait!:: Skywarp radioed to her and warped ahead to catch up when she slowed down to near his top speed. "Wait, don't leave like that."

"What else is there to talk about?" she asked him as she angled their flight path towards the Ark.

"Maybe nothing," he said, struggling for anything to keep her from taking off again. "But ... you're not an Autobot."

"I'm allied with them," she pointed out. "We are on opposing sides of this war. I'm sorry Skywarp. It's already going to hurt enough when you're killed."

"I've survived a lot," he objected. "I was in this war from the beginning and I'm still alive. I'll be around a long time."

"Not ... I'm sorry," she said again as she sped up, though not quite to the point he couldn't keep up. "My presence changes things. More than even I anticipate. The only way I can protect you is if you're at my side. You don't need to fight the Decepticons, you don't need to ally with the Autobots. Just ... be mine."

"Just?" he asked, pushing his engines to keep up with her and keenly aware of how fast they were approaching Autobot territory. "I'm a warrior, a Seeker. I'm not...."

"You aren't just a plaything, any more than I am," Ezara told him and slowed down and angled off her course somewhat. "You'll have wars to fight, enemies to destroy, glory to claim as my warrior. Just not as a Decepticon or Autobot, or against them. You protected me when I couldn't protect myself. I know the risks you've taken for me. Let me return it. Let me give you a chance at something more than the lowest-ranked Seeker."

"But that's what I am," he repeated. "I'm a Seeker. I'm a Decepticon."

"And I am master and lord of Lydrom," Ezara reminded him. "I have more power and authority than Megatron does. I can make you anything."

Skywarp fell silent, instinctively drawn to her strength as a leader and the certainty she spoke with the same way he was drawn to Megatron and Starscream.

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to follow her. He wanted her back.

"I'm a Decepticon," he finally said, though there was no pride behind it.

"And I am Vistra," Ezara answered in kind. "We ... our allies are far away. We can be just Skywarp and Ezara for a few hours," she suggested hesitantly. "The atoll ahead."

"Gladly," he replied, veering off to head for it. "There's more to it than just choice, Ezara," he let her know. "If that was it ... I'd probably have tried staying with you."

"Tell me," she said as they transformed and landed. "I want to understand what is holding you to them."

"If you'd gone through it, you would," he told her as she stepped close and brushed his cheek with her fingers. "Becoming a Decepticon wasn't as simple as just being recruited. You didn't just go through a few tests and get branded. The arena picked out the ones of us who wanted battle, that you can understand. But the Forge... it made us something different," he said, trying to put words to something that was difficult even for him to understand. "When we came out of it, we were Decepticons. It's all we are, all we can be, anymore. Autobots have come over to our side, but it's never gone the other way - there's a reason for that."

"I do understand," she whispered into his mind as she kissed him in the physical and mental realm. "We don't call it the Forge, or anything really. But the difference between military and civvies in the Tezita is far more than temperament and mindset or training. I began a civvie, fought for my status. I accepted becoming military. What was done to make me military ... it can't be undone.

"Maybe I just fought to become what I really was inside," she kissed him again and ran her hands down his Lydrom body. "But I can never go back. Never not be military."

"It's a lot like that," he agreed, kissing her back. "Whatever it is, it makes leaving like trying to cut out a part of your own brain. No matter how much you want to, you just can't do it."

She considered him between kisses as they aroused each other, taking more time than they usually bothered with.

"What happens when this war is over, when the Autobots are all gone?" she asked him softly. "What will you do then?"

"Repair Cybertron, move on to the next world - likely pay the Quint's back for double-crossing Megatron and trying to take over again. Quintessa deserves a good pounding."

"Please think about this," she focused his mind. "Logic and emotion. The strong lead. You live for battle. You will find a war to fight. Am I right so far?"

"And right now, Megatron leads," he explained. "You're right, up to the point where we can just choose to abandon the Decepticons."

"But if I take command of the Decepticons?" she looked at him seriously as a dozen plans ran in the background. "Remove Megatron and Starscream at least, those who are fixated on Cybertron as the goal. I give you a different war to fight," her fingers caressed his jaw to make sure he was looking right at her. "Does anything there not work?"

"It works fine... but there's that big step in the middle," he pointed out, kissing her gently, wrapping his arms around her. "Megatron could've killed you last time. He's not going to let you get that close again, if he can help it."

"Then when it's time, I'll just have to make sure he can't help it," she slid her hands down his back and claimed a much more aggressive kiss. "But enough talk of the future," she rumbled as her hand slid forward to stroke his short tail, easing it out of the way of what she wanted at. "We have now, and no enemies to see us."


Ezara poked her head into the common room and caught Jazz's optics. "Just letting you know I'm back," she called to him.

"Come in, it's movie night," he grinned at her. "Caurun even fixed up some of that low-potency Ssiii'Poemat for you."

"You have no idea how wrong that sounds," she couldn't help but laugh despite her mood. "Low-potency Death's Delay. All right," she decided, only slightly reluctant. It wasn't as if anything she was brooding over would matter for a few joor either way. She was a full metacycle from implementing the first stages if it went well.

She walked in and found a spot on one of the relatively crowded couches, and soon found Jazz sitting next to her. He rested one arm across her the top of her shoulders with the hand dangling loosely. It was an odd sensation, but she could feel the affection intended by it and accepted it as such.

"This one's called Raiders of the Lost Ark. It's about the adventures of a famous explorer," he explained. "Fiction."

"It's not this Ark, is it?" Ezara accepted the mug of glittering black energon and settled in, content to being close to a lover and shoved her planning into the back of her processors for a few joor while she enjoyed the down time.

"No," Jazz chuckled and shook his head. "It's a fictional Ark from on'a their origin stories. How'd your flight go?"

"Good," she almost purred, and he caught the faintest flicker that she hadn't been alone for much of it. "Very informative, very satisfying."

He leaned over a bit more and asked silently. "Skywarp?"

"Who else?" she sort of chuckled though the contact. "He's not dangerous to me Jazz, and I got some valuable intel. He just wanted to know I was okay, and it kinda went from there when I tried to recruit him again."

"Was I disapproving?" he pointed out with a light chuckle of his own. "Fill me in on it later?"

"Guess I expected you to be," she said silently, and a little embarrassed. "I will. Optimus'll want to hear most it too. Movie," she focused their attention on the screen and tried not to pay too much attention to the way others were looking at her and Jazz. She had an inkling that a pairbond was the norm for them, and not the way she had three serious lovers and openly flirted with and pleasured any of them when the situation and inclination presented itself.

They settled in to watch the movie, and Jazz was a little surprised when she actually focused on it instead of trying to fool around with him while they were close. Of course, the look he saw in her eyes near the end of it explained all of that pretty easily.

"Y'a got that Prowl look," he chuckled. "Y'a got a list that's about a half-mile long on every tactical and physics mistake they made, don't you?"

"At least," she glanced at him, and he saw it dawn on her. "It's just a story, not meant to be realistic."

"That's why I told you it was fiction," he nodded. "They don't usually do realistic ones - not this decade, at least. They were more historical a while back, I guess, but that went out a long time ago."

"They created all that, just for entertainment?" she cocked her head at him. "A lot of effort into a couple joor distraction."

"Just wait until you hear how much the big stars get paid for these things," he chuckled. "But yeah, that's the basic idea. They put a lot of effort into their entertainment."

"It sounds like the civvies back home, the wealthy ones at least," she commented as it invoked hazy memories of a time very early in her life and of things that were out of reach. She shifted and rolled sideways to kiss him lightly, her hand resting on his upper leg, almost touching the joint to his torso. "Want that debriefing now?"

"It'd be a good idea," he nodded. "We'll need Prime - anybody else good to have along?" he asked her as he sent a message for Optimus.

"Probably Prowl," she said thoughtfully. "Anyone here a history buff or keen on Decepticon psychology?"

"They have such a thing?" Ironhide quipped, though everybody was clearly very interested now.

"Real Decepticons do, though I don't think it applies to everyone to bears their insignia," Ezara glanced at him. "None of it's tactical," she told Jazz. "Just stuff Prime wanted to know.

"And I didn't take any risks getting it," she turned to look at Optimus Prime over the back of the couch when he walked in with Prowl. Wheeljack and Perceptor weren't far behind them.

"Good. How did you come by it?" he asked her as he found a place to sit in the crowded room he was rarely in for long.

"When I was out testing my wings, Skywarp dropped by to see if I'd recovered from the damage Megatron did," she explained without any trace that might be an issue. "He tried to recruit me, I tried to recruit him. Neither worked, but I did get him to explain why he doesn't believe he can leave the Decepticons. From what he said, it'll apply to Thundercracker too, and probably a few others."

"Why Thundercracker?" Prowl almost scowled at her before silencing the impending questions from others about her liaison with a Decepticon with a look.

"He requires regular convincing by the others that he wants to be a Decepticon," she said simply. "Nobody talks about it, but I came very close to getting a complete inventory of his processors and memory while I was with them. He's not dedicated to the cause, no matter what you define that cause as. He just doesn't have anywhere else to go, in his opinion, and he needs to belong more than he needs anything else."

"Whoa," Jazz stared at her. "Nothin' I've ever see cross my desk suggested that."

"For damn good reason," she looked at him levelly. "Starscream keeps it under tight wraps that his Seekers aren't loyal Decepticons, or at the very least loyal out of fear. Neither is true. It just doesn't make them any more likely to defect."

"Does Megatron know?" Optimus Prime asked over the wave of shock that passed through the Autobots.

"Given how I found out, I'm sure he does," Ezara flicked her chin up. "He also doesn't care. As long as what Skywarp told me is true, it won't matter. You are right about the Forge. It didn't just change their bodies and give them the instincts to go with it. It changed them on a fundamental level, but only if it starts with the right material."

"You're talking about people like they're objects," Ratchet glared at her.

"To the Forge, they are," Ezara shrugged. "Raw material to shape and perfect. The better the raw material, the better the final product. In this case, the defining quality for the raw material is a need for battle. Megatron used the arena to find that. What the arena, at least that arena, does not sort for is other valuable qualities; social bonds, intelligence, loyalty, a willingness to die for your beliefs. The qualities that make a unit strong, beyond the ability to fight.

"That the Decepticons don't have those qualities in general is Megatron's failing as a leader. That the Autobots do is to your credit as one," she looked at Optimus Prime.

"Okay, back to how to use this," Prowl interrupted her.

Ezara nodded slightly. "Skywarp described something very similar to what I went through to become what I am. I was a civvie, that's what I was born as. I earned upgrades in the arenas, but when Rawlind officially took me as his successor, they made me military, like they were. I think you worked out just how different the bodies are," she glanced between Optimus Prime, Perceptor and Wheeljack.

"That civvies are mechanical, like we are, and your body is largely nanite," Optimus Prime nodded. "Yes, we know."

"I couldn't tell you if I fought to become on the outside what I always was inside, or if I just adapted to the new form and its rules, but Skywarp recognized it as something similar as what the Forge does. You go in whatever you were before. You come out different. With the Forge, you come out a Decepticon. Not just branded and given power, but down to your core. It takes that hunger for battle, for power, and wipes away the rest.

"Or at least it tries to," she said. "They don't believe they can leave the Decepticons in the same way I can't leave the military. It's not about oaths, duty, threats, loyalty or anything so intellectual or emotional. It's about trying to leave something absolutely fundamental to yourself. Sky described it as trying to cut part of your own brain out. No matter how hard you try, you just can't."

"He's ready to leave'm for you though," Jazz stared at her in shock as he put together what she hadn't said and her tone with what she had.

"If he could figure out how," Ezara flicked her chin up. "Said it outright. He just can't wrap his processors around leaving the Decepticons. He doesn't care about defeating you, or Cybertron's fate. He'll fight whatever battles the leader of the Decepticons tells him to and he's content with it. It's his purpose in existence."

"You are not going to challenge Megatron," Optimus Prime said with the kind of steel in his voice the Autobots rarely heard.

"Not before the challenge against Ryzia is over," she promised. "Then I'm going to take a serious look at taking over the Decepticons instead of wiping them out."

"Not that it's a bad plan, but what happens if Megatron wins?" Jazz asked her, the rest of the line troops still largely in shock at the information and her plans. "Then he'll have beaten the current Toe'Emirc in battle, just like you'll have beaten Ryzia."

"My troops will kill him," she said simply, like it was nothing of importance, and took a drink of her black energon. "He's not capable of inheriting. It does take more than winning to become Toe'Emirc. You have to be chosen, like your Prime."

"I just hope everything works out as planned," Prowl granted. "If we don't have to deal with them anymore, more power to you."

"One way or another, you won't have to," Ezara reminded him. "After the challenge for Toe'Emirc, they become Lydrom's business. They're as prepared to survive us as you'd be."

"If you can defeat Megatron and take them over, that would be the best situation for us," Prime said, trying to keep her focus off massive slaughter. "But all of this has to wait until after your people have arrived. Do you think that there's any way we can break the programming?"

"Mitrix and Singer both think it's worth a try," she said, more than a bit guarded. "Well, actually they know they can. They just aren't sure what else it will take out, or the odds of survival. The changes could, probably will, be at least as dramatic as what happened to Starscream, just in the other direction. Or it could wipe them completely clean, like they'd just been put in their bodies.

"From what Skywarp said, it won't make them any more sociable. Those who went through the Forge were already those who hungered for battle. They weren't peaceful citizens to start with," she warned them.

"They weren't willing to destroy for destruction's sake either," Prime pointed out. "It's worth an effort - if we can break it, then we can start to break Megatron's hold over them. Splitting them up could be just as effective, after all."

Ezara thought about that, and regarded Prime evenly. "Are you willing to sanction an arena, one where death matches exist? They'll need something to do, that's socially acceptable."

"The arenas were illegal when they started," Prowl pointed out gruffly. "There's something wrong with them, not something that needs to be nurtured." He only realized what his words could be taken as by Ezara when he caught the look on Jazz's face and how ready the saboteur was to grab her.

"Enough, Prowl," Optimus Prime said firmly, grateful that Ezara seemed willing to let what he knew to be a serious insult slide. "There are other outlets for destructive urges - something will have to be done, but we'll have to consider options first."

"There is time," Ezara agreed, her expression only slightly irritated. "At least a metacycles before the challenge, and I expect another while my forces gather, sort out those Decepticons that have been through the Forge from those who haven't, see how much they can be changed and how attached individuals are to Cybertron. I'll have a war for them to fight in the meantime, and officers to keep them in line. Most should be happy enough with that for a while at least."

"We can hope," Optimus nodded. "Maybe we should discuss some of this privately?" He said, hoping to get Prowl and some of the others out of there long enough for him to apologize, at least.

"Of course," she flicked her chin up and stood, Jazz with her. "Your office?"

"That would be fine," Optimus nodded, leading the way. As soon as the door closed behind Jazz, Optimus turned to face her.

"I'd like to apologize for what Prowl said. He didn't mean it as a slight towards you or the military mechs. His entire life has been built around enforcing law and order - the rebellion was a strike at what he'd spent his entire life fighting to support."

"I know," she nodded, but it wasn't hard to see that she was still angry, and only getting angrier as she processed everything she'd learned in Prowl's short statement. "The arenas on Lydrom are legal. Every district has one. I didn't know until he said it that they weren't on Cybertron."

"I doubt he realized that they were legal for you," Jazz added as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Or that you find them a good thing."

"I won't hold it against him," she promised Optimus. "I'm just going to be irritated at him for a while."

"I understand," Optimus nodded. "And for what it's worth, there were places to practice your fighting skills - just not for those sort of stakes. It was the 'to the death' part that was illegal, and that Megatron took advantage of."

"He knew they were murderers under the law," she guessed. "It makes an easy argument that they have nowhere else to go," she sighed. "What are the odds that any Decepticon hasn't killed in the arena?"

"Very slim, but ... well, how that will be handled will be another issue," he admitted. "After all. Their 'victims' were trying to kill them as well. They decided to try and kill each other - it's part murder, part self-defense, all very, very complicated from a legal perspective."

"Do you have the authority to pardon them?" Ezara asked, working on her approach and her options.

"I do," he nodded. "It's likely to be an issue in any reconciliation to end the war, and almost certainly going to upset a great many on Cybertron no matter how it's handled. Too lenient, too harsh - there's bound to be a large number who aren't happy."

"I'm sure," she leaned back against the wall, her face down and thoughts going a trillion calculations a nanoklik. "It is something we should discuss, and settle to some extent before I challenge Megatron. It would be a disaster if I took over the Decepticons only to find out we could not come to an acceptable resolution on their status." She looked up, fixing Optimus Prime in her gaze. "I will do my best as their leader to protect them."

"I understand," he nodded. "Frankly, as long as I could be assured that they were not an ongoing threat, I would be inclined to issue pardons, except in a handful of extreme cases. Megatron being the most obvious one - there is simply no way to end his threat, and his role in this war cannot be forgiven without a major change. Kaon is likely to be another, but even then exile to one of the moons is more likely."

"Megatron and Starscream won't survive to see me take over," she said simply. "Neither could accept it, and unlike Megatron, I do not tolerate power-hungry schemers. Kaon ... anything with that much power is too dangerous to leave unsupervised," she agreed. "If he accepts my leadership, exile from Cybertron is acceptable to me. Same with the other city-bots who rebelled. After I meet them it will come down to your answer of being secured on a moon, or if they come with me to an unoccupied world where they can not harm you."

"Then I believe we'll be able to come to a mutual agreement, when the time comes," he nodded. "If I may ask - besides his attack on you that brought you to us, what did Starscream do to earn this vendetta?"

"Trying to assassinate his commander is quite enough," she said darkly. "Megatron made me Air Commander before this happened. Failing to kill may be acceptable to him, but it's not to me. Since he proved he won't stop until I'm dead, he's earned the same."

"It seemed like there was something deeper involved," he conceded. "I understand how that would be an issue though; none of us have been in a position where he really betrayed us, rather than merely fighting us."

"Deeper ... yes," she admitted almost grudgingly. "We have far too much in common, too much...." Ezara struggled for words before she finally growled, her gaze down. "Have you ever known someone you saw yourself in the moment you met? A mirror to a different life. I knew before I knew his name we'd either be inseparable, or unable to tolerate each other. I wanted the first. Honor got in the way. He has none to speak of."

"Still hurts though," Jazz stepped around to tip her chin up.

"Rawlind swears it'll mellow with experience," she met his optics briefly. "Yeah. Not many things to do with that kind of fire, ya'know? Delta Six knew an old saying. An inferno always destroys. Control makes that destruction the beginning of something more; lack of it ends everything it touches. Starscream has no control, and I don't have that much more on my own."

"I hate to ask you this," Prime interrupted. "But it relates to what you said. The next time you see Skywarp, I'd like you to try and get an imprint of his brainwaves. If you could bring him in, it would be better, but I understand that he's unlikely to come willingly."

"An imprint I can do," she flicked her chin to the right, quietly grateful for something to think about other than Starscream and how infuriating he was. "I'll see if I can talk him into coming in. What do you want to do?"

"At this stage? Basic analysis of the programming changes," Optimus explained. "I'll turn them over to Wheeljack and Perceptor, and see what the two of them can determine. There may be a way to simply break their loyalty to the 'cause' - if we can accomplish that, without harming them, it would cripple Megatron in an orn."

Ezara cocked her head, uncertain if she agreed, before it registered that he was talking about the conviction that all they could ever be was Decepticons.

"We'd still have a mess on our hands, but there would be no one leading the mess," she chuckled lightly. "I'll do my best. Who knows, if Wheeljack and Ratchet are willing to work somewhere more neutral appearing, I might be able to talk him into coming, at least briefly."

"I'm sure they'd be willing, if you can arrange it," he nodded. "They were thinking hardest about this of anybody out there."

"Why don't we go drivin'?" Jazz suggested. "Burn off that bad mood."

"I like that idea," her body language softened. "If we're done?" she looked at Optimus.

"We're done," he nodded. "Just don't go looking for a fight, either of you," he added, keeping his tone relatively light, for all he was serious.

"No problem, Boss-bot," Jazz grinned with his promise.

"Agreed," Ezara flicked her chin right before she followed Jazz out. "We'll behave."