Many authors are opposed to Cybertronian children using such terms as "Daddy," but I don't see any reason why they wouldn't have endearments for their creators in their native language, so I'm running with it.

I hope everyone enjoys! This was a difficult one to write.


"It's gotta be Vos," Jazz said insistently, hands on his hips and optic ridges drawn together. By far the shortest mech in the conference room, he would have made a funny sight if the topic of the discussion at hand weren't so serious.

"It's absurd," Prowl retorted testily. His backstrut was straight, shoulders drawn back and optics narrowed. Not even a little humorous, no matter the situation, especially when he was in the middle of a heated argument with his lover and subordinate in front of the entire command staff. "We can't launch an assault on Vos. Not only do they outstrip us in terms of air power and brute force, but the reinforcements on their towers are-"

"Not tough enough to keep us out," Ironhide put in menacingly, flexing his hands open and closed. The cannons mounted on his arms whirred excitedly. Wheeljack, seated on the mech's right, edged away a little.

"And how do you plan on combating their air forces, Ironhide?" Ratchet asked grimly, folding his arms over his chest. "Send the Aerialbots to wipe out Starscream's entire armada?"

"They'll have Jetfire, too!"

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Oh, well, if Jetfire's there…"

"Oy," the flier spoke up, wings flicking in agitation, "what are you implying, Doc?"

"That you are just one mech, Jetfire…" The conversation could very well have ended amicably there, but Ratchet decided to take it one step further. "...No matter how great you think you are."

Elita One sighed, rubbing a hand against her helm as the two began to bicker- Ratchet irritated, Jetfire insulted. Ironhide was still growling, Prowl and Jazz were glaring daggers at one another (she wondered which one of them usually got banished to the couch), and the other members of her carefully assembled and normally coordinated command team were whispering uneasily amongst themselves.

"Alright, alright, enough," she spoke up at last, hoping that maybe they'd gotten the worst of their aggravation out of their systems. They'd been at this for a joor already, after all. "We can discuss this rationally, can't we?"

"Hard to discuss anything without knowing what the Boss is thinking," Wheeljack put in, his audio fins flashing. He was anxious; they all were.

"That's a good point. Why isn't Prime here?" Prowl demanded, looking at Elita.

"Prime is convalescing from a difficult and self-inflicted injury," Ratchet answered before she could get a word in edgewise, pointedly ignoring the horrified look she threw his way. "He won't be here to answer any of our questions."

"Self-inflicted?" Magnus sputtered, staring at the medic in scandalized offense. "You were there when Alpha Trion explained what happened!"

"Wait, Alpha Trion's involved in this?" Jetfire demanded, getting to his feet. Half of the assembled staff had already risen from their seats in various states of agitation. "What is going on? What was Optimus doing?"

"I can't...he should tell you all himself," Elita said helplessly. Her irritation with her mate- already almost palpable- spiked painfully. These soldiers, whom she trusted with her life, were even more confused and upset than she was, and Optimus was too busy chasing down holy artifacts to notice? What was happening to her normally level-headed and responsible partner?

"Well, can you explain to us why he's so desperate to see Kaon fall?" Prowl asked, and there was a sweeping feeling of assent through the conference room. "It's not like Prime to be so reckless."

"He wants this to be over," Elita sighed, sinking back into her chair. As she'd hoped, everyone else followed suit. Good to know she still had some measure of control over the situation. "Just like the rest of us. We understand that this campaign has been costly. We understand that more powerfully than anything else. But we have come so far. Vos is within our grasp, if we are courageous enough to take it. After that, all that remains is Kaon."

"Right," Ratchet sighed sardonically, "it's just the single most reinforced Decepticon stronghold on the planet. Easy pickings once Starscream's little nest is ours."

"Your sarcasm is unnecessary, Ratchet." Elita jumped as a heavy hand settled on her shoulder, and craned her head back to see a familiar frame hovering behind her chair. "But your concerns are noted."

"Optimus," Ratchet said, getting hastily to his feet. "You shouldn't be out of medical bay!"

"Not to worry. I'm feeling much improved." His fingers tightened around his mate's shoulder, optics crinkling over the rim of his mask, and she couldn't help but smile back up at him. "Thank you for taking care of things in my absence."

"No problem…" She shifted over a seat, letting him lower himself heavily into the chair at the head of the table. The burns on his chest were diminished from the night before, thanks to a hefty infusion of nanites from Ratchet and a graft of healthy protoform from his back, but the damage was still painfully visible. Several pairs of optics averted from the carnage as their Prime looked around the room.

"I've had a mishap," he said pleasantly, patting a hand gingerly against his charred chestplates and wincing. "But all wounds heal. Physically, at least. I am more concerned about the mental wounds that have been inflicted by this campaign. I understand that my command decisions have not been the best they could be, and that I have not done enough to include all of you in my decision-making process. For this I apologize."

There was a pause; Optimus seemed to be collecting himself, steeling himself for what he was about to say. Something cold settled in Elita's spark; she realized after a breath that it was dread.

"I acquired these injuries on a mission of what I felt to be great importance," he went on at length, gazing down at his ruined chassis with a mixture of regret and distaste. He didn't much care about aesthetics, but broken, burnt armor would not serve on the battlefield. He'd have to be refitted. "I believed that the Matrix was leading me to a weapon of incredible power, something as old as Cybertron itself." The Prime sighed heavily, his shoulders sinking with what must have felt like the weight of the universe. "It took me four cycles to meditate upon and interpret what the Matrix was telling me, but I found this weapon in the bowels of the planet below the ruins of Crystal City. What I believed to be the Starsaber, however, was in fact a very intricate replica." He smiled sadly, the gesture hidden by his mask. "A fake. I suspect the real sword was confiscated by one of the Thirteen a long, long time ago. They didn't often cooperate as well as they might have. In its anger at realizing that a holy artifact had been replaced without its knowledge or consent, the Matrix…" He gestured helplessly at his chest. "I do not claim to know god, but he is much like an angry child in his wrath."

He glanced over his shoulder as the room dissolved into whispers, optics dimming as he locked gazes with his mate.

"I'm sorry," Optimus said softly. "We sacrificed much, and for nothing."

"It's not your fault," she said, but the words sounded as hollow as she felt. He couldn't have known, but still...she couldn't help but feel betrayed, by both him and the Matrix. Optimus always seemed to know intuitively what he was doing, always seemed to have a plan. The revelation that he was just as mortal as she somehow hurt, even though she'd known it all along, known it better than anyone else in the universe. Even after all these vorns of partnership, her mate's fallibility still stunned her.

"It's not your fault," she repeated, with more conviction this time. "We'll figure something else out."

His optics turned soft and impossibly sad. "No, Elita," he murmured, shaking her head. "I don't think we will." He let the rest of the room speak amongst themselves, and leaned forward to speak in her audio, telling her in soft tones what they had both known, deep down, they would have to do.


For the first time in four cycles, Stormbane slept peacefully that night. Optimus rocked her for two full joors, cradling her against his chestplates gingerly and humming to her when she moved fitfully in her sleep. Curled up on the berth she shared with the Prime, Elita watched her mate and sparkling with tender optics, loving the way his arms dwarfed his tiny daughter.

"Call them in," Optimus requested at last, sitting on the side of his berth and gazing down at the sparkling asleep in his grasp. Elita nodded, leaning in to kiss his shoulder before getting up and heading out into the hallway. She reentered a moment later with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker in tow, both younglings looking confused and anxious.

"Hi, Optimus," Sideswipe said, sitting down at his guardian's side and patting Storm's comically large foot. "Aren't you supposed to be in med bay?"

"There's no time for rest, I'm afraid," Optimus replied, giving Sides' shoulder a squeeze before looking up at his twin. "How are you, Sunstreaker?"

"Fine," Sunny answered uneasily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What's going on?"

Optimus took a breath, held it, and exhaled, looking back down at his slumbering progeny. He willed himself to be strong. "Elita and I need to tell you something."

There was a long pause. Sunny lifted his optic ridges. "Okay. What is it?"

Another long silence-Elita realized that the Prime wasn't going to be able to put together the words. She braced herself and spoke up. "That we love you three- you two and your sister- more than we could ever describe. And that we care more for your safety than we do for anyone else's- more than we do for any soldier or city or even world. If our circumstances were different, that would be fine, but…"

"What are you saying?" Sunstreaker demanded. He was glad he hadn't sat down; he'd be right up on his feet again. He didn't want to hear Elita try to soothe the blow she was about to land, he wanted to hear her say it. Whatever it was that she needed them to know. "What are you two going to do?"

"We're sending Storm off-planet," Optimus put in, his voice low and steady. He hadn't lifted his head, optics remaining fixed on his little daughter, still balled up in the crook of his arm. Her antennae twitched, a response to a sparkling's dream, and he smiled brokenly. "And we want you to go with her."

The silence that descended this time was different. It held no anticipation-it was just empty, a quiet that fell when there were no words in the universe to fill it. Sideswipe was still touching Storm's foot, but the touch was absent now, faraway. Sunny felt his knees begin to tremble, but he refused to sit. He stayed standing, resolute, staring at the mech who had saved him, adopted him, loved him, and was now sending him away.

"No," the golden twin said at last. It came out as barely more than a croak. "No."

Elita moved forward, reaching for him. "Sunny…"

"No!" It broke free of him with more force now. He felt like his spark was going to collapse. The rising tide of grief in his chest made him want to scream. He buried it, stamped on it, let white-hot rage take its place. Let Sideswipe feel the pain, the sadness. Sunstreaker would handle this. "I'm not going anywhere! Sides isn't going anywhere, and Storm- you two signed up for this! You don't get to abandon her now, just because you're scared!"

"That's not what this is about, Sunny," Elita began, placing her hands on his shoulders, but he threw her off, backing away and pointing a shaking finger at Optimus. The mech looked up slowly, as if sensing he was about to become a target for his son's wrath.

"This was your idea," Sunstreaker snarled, letting his rage bleed into his words, letting it consume him. "This is your fault. You can't hold it together, can't take care of your family and the Autobots at the same time, so you're choosing them over us."

"Sunny," Elita tried to cut in, sharply, but he overrode her.

"You're not good enough to do both! You thought you were, but you're not, and now you're choosing being a soldier over being her father! Why did you even have her if you were just going to ditch her when things got rough?! You weak, stupid-"

"He'll kill her, Sunny," Optimus interrupted, and the youngling drew up short, a thousand hurled insults dying in him all at once. "Megatron. She can't stay hidden in this room forever. He'll find out about her. And when he does, he'll stop at nothing to kill her. He knows that nothing would hurt me more than to see something happen to one of you." The Prime sighed to himself, hitching Stormbane a little higher in his arms. "She's chosen. She always has been, from the moment of her creation. Megatron will see that. He was son to one Prime and brother to the next- he'll know. He won't stand idly by and let the Matrix pass to another."

"You should have thought of that," Sunstreaker said, but the heat was gone from his voice now, leaving something sad and cold in its place. Sideswipe was crying, silently, staring at Storm's foot in his hand, holding on as if she'd vanish if he dared to let go. "You should have thought of that when you made her. How could you have been so stupid, Optimus?"

"As poorly timed as it was, nothing we did could have stopped Storm's conception," Optimus said softly, shifting Storm to one arm so he could wrap the other around Sideswipe's shoulders. "We used firewalls and shields to prevent creating a sparkling by accident, but…" He smiled, brushing his mouth over Storm's sleeping helm. "Here she is anyway. She was meant to be."

Sunstreaker finally sat, his legs collapsing underneath him. There was a dead weight in his chest, helpless acceptance of the one thing he'd always feared, the only thing he feared. "I'm not going," he said hollowly, speaking over Elita when she began to protest. "No! I'm almost of age. By the time you arrange a safe place and caretakers off-planet, I'll be old enough to enlist. And I will. You can't stop me." He lifted his helm, fixing Elita with a hard look. "I know you don't want us to fight. But I'm going to join up, and I'm going to end Megatron so Storm can come home."

"Me too," Sideswipe piped up. His tears seemed to have abated; there was an edge in his voice, a toughness that Sunstreaker realized had probably just been born. "Megatron already knows about us. There's no point trying to hide us now."

"Sunny, Sides, listen…"

"They're right, Elita," Optimus murmured, reaching across the berth to clasp a hand around his mate's. "I'm sorry, but they're right. They're not children anymore. It's time we let them decide their own path."

"They don't have to do this," she argued, shaking her head. "We can give them what we never had."

"What we were denied, my love, was a choice," he said gently. "They ought to have the freedom to choose. If they feel that this is their fight as much as it is ours, then that is their right."

"And what about Storm?" Sunny pressed, hoping against hope that there was some line of reasoning that would make Optimus change his mind, keep the Prime from sending his precious sister away. "Doesn't she get the right to choose?"

"I'm trying to give it to her," Optimus assured him. "The Matrix may think that her future is spoken for, but I won't abide by its decision the way my father did with me. If she's off Cybertron, away from this war, Stormbane may yet get to decide what and who she wants to be."

Sunny sighed and got slowly to his feet, approaching the berth and allowing Optimus to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry, Sunstreaker," the Prime said softly. "And you, too- Sideswipe, Elita. All of you. I wanted more than anything to keep this family together. But it would be selfish of me to do so if it endangers Storm. I have to protect her by whatever means necessary."

Sunny looked up at his guardian beneath the heavy ridge of his helm. "Even if she hates you for it?"

Optimus set his jaw and nodded grimly. "Just so."

Sideswipe smiled a little, finally releasing Storm's foot to give her helm a small, soft pat instead. "Whatever she wants to be, huh? Well, no matter what she chooses, she'll be a great one."


"This is just another refugee ship."

"It's better for her to hide in plain sight."

"It's not good enough."

Optimus smiled at that, patting the top of Sunstreaker's head and shifting Storm in his arm. The sparkling was awake but quiet, looking from one sullen refugee to the next, watching them file onto the immense battleship, decommissioned in the age of Nova Prime, that would take them off-world.

"Does she have everything she needs?" Angelbane asked anxiously, digging around for the millionth time in the small cargo container that held everything Storm had ever been given. The bottom was packed solid with the holocubes Optimus had read to her; the top was littered with toys, including a stuffed Ickyak from Kup (easily the most disturbing toy Optimus had ever seen, but his daughter adored it), a model of a double-barrel ion exchange cannon from Ironhide (also disturbing), and a wrench from Ratchet (which was sort of sweet, if one didn't think about it too hard).

"That's everything from our quarters. She'll be fine. You're sure about leaving your orphanage behind? And you will read to her, won't you?"

"Of course, to both," Angelbane huffed, straightening and placing her hands on her hips. "It's been left in good hands, trust me. Family comes first now. And I read to you and your brother every night, why would I stop now?"

"She won't recharge if you don't."

"Every night, Optimus, I promise." The former Cybertronian empress smiled gently, lifting a hand to cup her eldest's face. "I'll take care of her, dearspark. Don't fret."

Optimus nodded, dipping his helm and brushing his mouthplates over Storm's small head, optics scanning the crowd of refugees anxiously. They looked like a rough crowd; he had to remind himself constantly that it was only because they had been through rough times. They were leaving the planet to get away from the violence, and would have no reason to bring harm to an innocent sparkling.

"We'll have to cease contact," Optimus said, rocking Storm a little when she squirmed and pressed her face into his chestplates, whimpering. The worry in his own spark was affecting her, and he focused on calming himself. "We can never tell which channels Soundwave is monitoring, or when."

"I understand. When can I expect to hear from you, then?"

"I'll head wherever you are myself when she's of age. I'll reach out to you around then. If I don't, it's only because things are too hectic here for me to leave. But I'll come for her when she's old enough, when she and I are both ready. Please tell her that often. Don't let her think that Elita and I have forgotten her."

"And tell her she has brothers," Sideswipe chimed in. "That we'll teach her to do all kinds of cool stuff when she comes home."

"And tell her that we wanted her, that we never would have given her up if we saw any other way-"

"Listen, you three," Angelbane said, holding up a hand to stem the tide of requests, "this sparkling is going to be as loved as any before her. She will know exactly who she is and where she comes from, and I will tell her every orn how much you all cherished her. She is my greatspark, you know, I won't have her thinking she's an orphan."

"Found it," Elita said, interrupting the conversation as she jogged up to them, seemingly a little winded, and held up a holocube. "It's the one about Solus Prime. I can't believe we forgot it." She handed it over to Angelbane, who packed it delicately, before turning to her mate and opening her arms to accept their daughter. "Hello, brightspark, are you ready to go on a trip?"

Storm bobbed her head up and down, resting her chin on her mother's shoulder and looking imploringly down at the twins over her back.

"Sorry, Stormy, we gotta stay here," Sideswipe said, grasping her foot and giving it a tickle, smiling sadly when she released an explosion of excited clicks. "But we'll see you soon, don't worry."

Chromia and Ironhide approached from the ship, having finished escorting the remainder of the refugees on board. At a clipped nod from Ironhide, Optimus sighed deeply, turning to his mate.

"Bye," Sunstreaker whispered hoarsely, reaching up and cradling Storm's hand briefly in his own. "Bye, Storm."

She blinked at him and chirped, kicking her feet when she was lifted gently from Elita's shoulder and back into Optimus's arms. The femme commander stepped close to her mate, shuttering her optics and cradling her sparkling's head, kissing her one last time upon the noseplates and smiling brokenly when Storm grabbed at her antennae. After a moment of faltering silence Elita gently removed the tiny hands from her helm and took a step back, touching Optimus's arm and nodding slowly.

"Go," she said quietly. "Quickly."

Angelbane hugged the femme tightly before bending down to pick up Storm's crate. With a final smile and small wave, she turned and headed toward the ship, and after a moment's terrified hesitation, Optimus followed, cradling his sparkling in numb arms, his spark tightening with each step toward the battleship.

"I'll give you a moment," Angel murmured, touching her son's arm lightly before heading up the ramp to stow Storm's things.

The Prime hovered, at a loss, looking down at his tiny daughter. Nestled against his battered chestplates, Storm blinked back up at him several times before beaming widely, reaching for his face.

"Daddy."

Optimus laughed, hoisting her a little higher and placing his foreplate on hers, nodding. "That's right. I need you to not forget that, Storm. I've taken a lot of lives out of this world. Countless precious lives. But you're the first one I've put in, and I need you to remember that."

The sparkling hummed in response, tucking her helm beneath his chin. "Can you tell me about Solus Prime?"

"You'll have to ask Angel. She's going to read to you for a while. Is that okay?" A nod, the top of her helm rubbing against the bottom components of his jaw. "Good. She read to me too, when I was your age. You'll like the way she tells stories."

Angelbane reappeared in the entrance to the ship, but took her time heading down the ramp. Optimus's spark was a knot in his chest, small and tight and afraid. This was it. Oh, Primus, this was it. He had moments left. Moments.

"I love you, little one," he whispered, rubbing a hand up and down her back, pressing his mouth to the side of her tiny helm. "Your mother and I love you more than anything else in the universe. And I will find you again, no matter where you are or how far you go, I will find you and bring you home."

"Optimus," Angelbane said quietly, resting a hand on the side of his helm, "it's time to go."

He didn't respond for several long beats of his spark, everything in him aching, tearing. He wasn't the first creator to leave a child behind during this war, and he certainly wouldn't be the last, but every atom in his being screamed out at the wrongness of it. How could she be someplace he was not? How could he protect her? How could he love her? How could he not be there for every moment of her life, for her first shaky steps, for her first day in school, for her first love, for her first sparkbreak, for all of her successes and failures?

"Take care of her," he said brokenly, looking at his mother and taking her hand in his, gripping it tight. "Make sure she knows how much I love her. That's all I ask. Make sure she knows."

"She'll know," Angelbane said solemnly, squeezing him back, nodding. "I won't let her forget. Not ever." She stepped forward and embraced him tightly, and when they released one another, she held Stormbane in her arms. "Be safe, dearspark. Take care of Lita and the twins, and take care of yourself. You make sure Stormy has a family to come home to." Her optics hardened, and she grasped his chin in one hand, forcing him to look at her. "Your brother. Stop him."

"I will."

Angelbane pulled him down, kissed the crest of his helm, and then she turned, holding Stormbane to her shoulder and mounting the ramp. The sparkling squirmed, head popping up over her new caretaker's back, optics widening when she realized Optimus wasn't following.

"Daddy?"

Clamping one hand over his mouth to hold back a- what? A shout? A sob? What mortal noise, no matter how tortured, could possibly convey this feeling?- and lifted his other hand, more reaching than waving, breaking inside.

"Daddy?!" Storm was pulling now, struggling to get out of Angelbane's arms. "Daddy! Papa!"

The ramp was pulled in. Angelbane's shoulders hunched; she was crying, holding the wailing sparkling close. Optimus couldn't breathe. He thought his sparkcase might shatter. The hatch pulled close, obscuring his mother and daughter from view.

"Optimus."

A hand on his shoulder- when had he fallen to his knees?

"We have to back up, or they can't take off."

Stumbling, he allowed himself to be pulled upright and guided backwards in slow, staggering steps, out of the landing zone. The ship hummed, trembling on its struts, and then the engines ignited with a burst of blue light, stabilizers activated, gravity repulsion mechanisms whirring to life- it trembled, stuttered, and lifted up. A warpgate opened above it, large and stable enough to throw them across the planet, where they would leave the thin atmosphere and begin a straight trajectory toward- Primus knew where. Somewhere safe. Somewhere not here.

The ship ascended, barely skimmed the uppermost porthole of the landing bay, and then the warpgate swallowed it up and closed. The rip in the fabric of spacetime healed, closed seamlessly, and they were gone.

For what might as well have been forever, Optimus didn't move, staring up at the starry sky where the ship carrying his progeny had vanished. They were long gone now, probably emerging over Simfur, accelerating, angling, heading for the spacebridge that would get them past the twin moons, out toward the network of interconnected stars.

He realized, at length, that Ironhide and Ultra Magnus were holding him upright. In a daze he shook them off, turning on his heel and walking slowly back toward his waiting family. Elita was clutching Chromia for support, but she wasn't crying. Their sparklink felt empty, numb, heavy with something beyond grief, beyond anger. They were broken now, he thought solemnly. With the twins nearly of age and Stormbane gone, they were no longer a family unit. They weren't parents now; they were just soldiers. From here on out, they would put their helms down and pull the trigger, again and again, as many times as it took. Nothing more, nothing less.

Prime opened his arms, took Elita in close and held her tightly to his frame. She allowed herself to be held but didn't return his grasp.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing his helm into hers. Her optics had lost all of their warmth. "I'm sorry."

"I know," she replied hollowly. She couldn't offer him anything more; not forgiveness, not comfort. Not yet.

Optimus lifted his gaze, setting his sights upon the younglings still left in his care. They stared back at him, still planted where they'd been when he carried Storm away, expressions stony and resolute. They were broken too. Any softness Storm had instilled in them had just been locked away, maybe lost entirely. The soldier in Sideswipe had just been born, and the gladiator in Sunstreaker was reawakening.

"If you two still want to enlist," he said quietly, "report to Prowl in the morning. Your training begins as soon as possible." The Prime tightened his grip on his sparkmate, the Matrix in his chest throbbing, searing his sparkcase, making his wounds ache. "We will take Vos within the vorn."


"Bring me that ship."

Starscream, by nature, wasn't crazy about following orders given in the middle of the night without question, but something in Megatron's gaze had him shutting up and assembling his team without a word of protest. The last time he'd seen his lord looking like that, a mech had had his spinal relays ripped out right on the command bridge. That had been when the gladiatorial dorms were bombed.

The Decepticon aerial commander had been getting some weird orders the last few vorns. It began with the humiliating and bewildering task of transporting two squalling sparklings to the dorms and placing them in the care of the arena trainer. The second had been tracking down some rogue spy in the middle of fragging nowhere and gunning him down while Optimus Prime looked on. Now he was en route to Simfur with Thundercracker and Skywarp trailing behind him, cackling and being generally annoying. All this, just because he didn't want Megatron to rip out his sparkcase and feed it to Shockwave's creepy pets.

Once this war was over- preferably with him ruling the Decepticon legions- he was seriously going to consider a career change.

"I don't like this," TC stated over their internal comms, growing nervous as they approached the ship's warp point. "This ship is civilian. I'm tired of bringing the neutrals down over our heads."

"Are you questioning Lord Megatron's orders?" Starscream demanded, trying very hard to sound as if he cared one iota about the state of troop loyalty to the mech he'd spent most of his life trying to overthrow.

"Well, no, but…"

"Then shut up. Maintain course." Starscream banked and ascended, giving himself a higher view of the armada. He'd brought half his fleet, his best fliers; Megatron had assured him in curt tones that it would be more than enough. Starscream would very much like to know why he, one of the Decepticon cause's most formidable and valuable warriors, was being sent to hassle an unarmed civilian vessel, but he supposed anything to get in Megatron's favor was worth doing, even if it was annoying as a scraplet bite.

They'd been flying scarcely three joors when they confirmed visual contact. Dawnbringer floated gently across the horizon, its hull lit up by the cresting sun, engines humming quietly as it aligned itself with the spacebridge, recently repaired by the Autobot cause, positioned a hundred kliks above the planet's surface. The battleship's pilot, a femme whose name Starscream couldn't remember from the dossier, had already opened a communication channel and was demanding that they back off, reminding them curtly that the neutrals wouldn't take kindly to hostility.

: Let us aboard, : Starscream said briskly, : and we won't shoot you out of the sky. We're looking for an Autobot sleeper agent who may plan on attacking a Neutral settlement in the Decepticon name. :

A little double-sided, he supposed, to threaten violence to prevent violence, but the pilot let them board anyway. An immediate threat was more intimidating than a possible one. Dawnbringer hovered long enough to let the Seeker trine and ten troopers land in its posterior docking bay, whereupon they were escorted into the passenger area by a nervous-looking private.

"Cap'n wants to know if you have a description of the bot you're looking for," the private said nervously, quickly lowering his gaze when Starscream shot him a peevish look.

"We'll know her when we see her. Move along."

The private did as told, scurrying back toward the crew quarters and leaving the Decepticons to their devices.

"Screamer," Thundercracker said in a whisper, glancing around at the multitude of nervous refugees, all eyeing them warily, "who are we looking for?"

"Did you not hear what I just said?" In a louder voice, Starscream called out, "Fan out and search. Notify me immediately if you see anyone suspicious."

His troops did as told, spreading out among the refugees, nudging them with the barrels of their rifles to move them along. Starscream prowled along the fringe of the bay, scowling, resenting Megatron more and more with each uneventful breem that ticked by. The bots on this scrapheap were just civilians fleeing the war, nothing out of the ordinary. Megatron usually just let them go; he did want to have a people left to rule when this was over, after all, and it was easier to plan campaigns without worrying about civilian casualties. Nearly a half joor had passed and Starscream was contemplating whether he'd be in too much danger if he returned empty-handed when Skywarp called out to him.

"Boss- you might wanna take a look."

He pushed past a throng of nervous young femmes and approached his officer, optic ridges raised.

"Well? What-"

Starscream froze, staring down at the bot Skywarp was hovering over. He knew that paint scheme. He'd know it anywhere. Slowly, optics fixed on his quarry, he lifted his hand to his audio and activated his comm link.

: Lord Megatron. We've boarded Dawnbringer. :

: And? : The Decepticon warlord's voice was as gravelly and perpetually aggravated as ever. Starscream said a few silent 'I hate you's before speaking again.

: My lord, your mother is on board. : Starscream canted his helm, scanning the glaring femme. She was seated, her shoulder turned toward them, cradling something in her arms. Starscream had thought it was a parcel, until two blue lights blinked up at him. : And...she has a sparkling with her. :

A long, long silence, longer than any Starscream had ever encountered with his liege lord. Well. Wasn't this getting interesting. When Megatron finally spoke, his voice seemed to be trembling with what Starscream immediately identified as excitement.

: Bring them to me. All of them. Bring my mother and my new niece home. To Kaon. :