A/N: I hope everyone's having a nice start to their Summer, or if you're not on break, to your weekend! I'll explain who the new face in this chapter is based off of in the author notes of next week's chapter, but if anyone would like to take a guess, please do so in the comments! If anyone can guess correctly, I'll... congratulate you and note your awesomeness in next week's notes XD

SezWho and Random117860, thank you for your comments on last week's chapter, I'm glad to see I've kept you entertained! X)

Beloved Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

"Nexus Space Station…" Siren's voice is hushed for once, in awe as he gazes to the spiraling station amidst the drifting asteroids.

We did it. We made it to the Beta-Tri Quadrant. Now the real work begins. There are thirteen planets in this Quadrant, several more space stations like this one dotting the void in between, and countless settlements on the larger asteroids and moons; and here we are, looking for the origin of the ore that created the final gift my father left me. Maybe "gift" isn't the right word for it. Anyways, hopefully Orion's information was accurate when he said the ore came from a planet, else we might be out here for a much longer stay.

Cautiously, I bring the Veilleur closer to the drifting space station, the strange, spinning-top form of it alien in every sense to us. There's no telling what we're gonna see in there, but I don't plan to stick around for too long. Chances are, this station is hit up often by Decepticons, being so close to the spacebridge, so hopefully the locals are used to seeing Cybertronians and won't pay too much attention to us. If we're really lucky, there won't be any Decepticons around, either.

"Nightbeat… we're gonna see aliens in there, huh…" Siren turns those eerie, red optics of his towards me, a concerned tone lacing his voice.

I look to him and nod, "Yeah, probably a lot've organics, so try to brace yourself if you can. 'Might be a bit culture-shocked, but try to keep a low profile."

He nods, nibbling anxiously on his lip as he looks to the approaching space station. "Why are we stopping here, anyways? We've got plenty of fuel, thanks to the spacebridge…"

"We need to get some bearings, chat up the locals to see if we can get any leads on where the ore of the sphere map came from. See if anything else that might interest us is going on 'round here."

He looks to me quietly. He's gonna ask it, I can feel it in his stare.

"Alright, that makes sense… but, Nightbeat?" He waits until I look at him to continue, "While we're out here, we're gonna find out what's going on with the Capri Detective rumors, right?"

I squint my optics behind my visor in thought and look forward, quiet for a moment. Reaching forward, I power down the thrusters and allow the space station's gravity generator to do the rest of the work, granting a request from the station's control center that pops up on the communications console to guide the ship to the docking bay. "If we hear something that sounds like it might be worthwhile, then maybe."

Again I can sense Siren's want to say something more, the glow of his optics washing out the corner of my peripheral vision. He releases a quiet sigh and sits back in his seat, holding onto the armrests as the ship is brought to a halt in the docking bay.

Standing from my seat, I pat his shoulder before heading towards the back of the ship to get something. He stands and follows me, "Hey, couldn't there be Decepticons here? What if they see us?"

"This station is a big place, Si, and there can't be that many 'Cons kickin' it around here, not if Megatron is working them like I assume he would be. We'll have plenty of space in there to lay low if we need to. Plus…" I kneel and open up a hidden compartment in the floor of the storage closet, "We've got these." Reaching in, I lift out a sleek, black-plated blaster.

Siren's optics widen at the sight of the weapon, taking a small step back as his jaw goes slack, "Where—Where did you get that? Nightbeat, that's a gun!"

I roll my optics and shake my helm a little. Kid's got a keen sense of observation, I knew there was a reason I brought him along. I stand and turn to him, keeping the plasma blaster pointed down as I check the power cell and safety, "We're not on Cybertron anymore, Siren, there aren't any Enforcers around here to look after our afts. We're on our own, so we gotta look out for our own, get it?"

Siren watches me handle the gun, his pale blue face scrunched up in uncertainty before he nods, "Yeah, I get it… So, you know how to shoot that thing, right?"

I nod to him, "Learned how to take care of it in a weapons maintenance class at the Academy, 'n Prowl took me to the target range every so often to teach me how t' shoot."

"Really? Prowl taught you to shoot?" Siren's optics are large in surprise.

I give him an indignant snarl, "Yeah, really. Why's it a big deal Prowl taught me?"

"I dunno, I just figured the last thing he would want you to be holding was a gun…"

I raise an optic ridge as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, "What's that supposed to mean? What, you think I'm gonna go on some kinda crusade the nano-klik I get a blaster in my hands?"

"Things already seem to either blow up or implode on itself when you're involved without a gun, that's all I'm saying…" His smirk grows into a cheeky grin.

Oh, you little punk.

I release an exasperated vent of air and roll my optics at him, "Primus, since when do you have a mouth on ya? You used to be so cute when you'd just sit around yelling about how fluffy the clouds of smog looked."

"Well, I guess I've learned that 'smartaft' is the only language you seem to respond to." He gives a smarmy shrug and crosses his arms casually before looking to me, "Aw, so you really were listening to me when I used to talk about the smog clouds?"

Primus, this kid. Like Mirage, it seems I've created another monster.

"It was kind of hard not to listen, you must've snapped the wires in my audio receptors with every other word." Shifting the weight of the blaster in my hand, I open up the subspace compartment in the side of my leg and watch as several mechanical arms reach out and accept the weapon before tucking it away in the compartment. Looking to Siren again, I nod, "Alright, enough joking around, let's go."

Siren blinks and double-takes at the supply closet as I walk past him, "Hey, wait, don't I get one?"

Frag, I knew he'd ask. I turn and look to him, "When's the last time you went to the shooting range, Siren? If ever?"

"I've gone lots of times! I actually went to the Academy on a daily basis, remember?"

Ouch. No need to be nasty. I put my hands on my hips and huff, "Alright, so you know how to handle one, then?" I can't believe I'm asking. I just don't know if it's the right thing to do, even if he knows how to shoot one… what if he had to? Is that something he's ready to bear?

He nods briskly at my question, "Yeah, I know how to disassemble and reassemble one, I know how to clean one, I know how to aim 'n shoot, how to put it on safety…" He must recognize the look of uneasiness on my face, "Nightbeat, I can do this… Yeah, I'm still… kinda young, yeah, but it's like you said. We're out here on our own, and we've gotta look out for each other. That means you're gonna have to trust me, Nightbeat…"

Slaggit, of all the times for his tiny sliver of intellect to show up. I guess it really isn't my decision at this point, and I would rather that he has a way to defend himself in case we somehow get separated. With a heavy sigh, I nod to him, "Alright, Si. You're right, I'll trust you."

I return to the supply closet and pull out a second blaster and turn to him, holding it out, "You don't let anybot know that you have this. And you don't pull it out unless you're willing and ready to use it, alright? If you pull it out, use it, don't let somebot take it away from you and turn it on ya. If it's out, and you're in danger, don't hesitate."

He nods and reaches out, accepting the weapon, looking it over and checking it before he subspaces it, "Don't worry. I'll know what to do."

"Alright… C'mon, then, let's see what we can learn." I put my hand on his shoulder and go to the entrance hatch of the ship, glancing to my partner before opening the entryway and step out onto the dock.

Both of our helms turn skyward as we look towards the top of the spiraling space station before we head towards the round entrance hall. So far, no signs of anything else living; we were parked on what appears to be an empty section of the bay. Not sure if that's a good thing or not.

A row of elevators line the inside of the spacious entrance hall, and we take our pick, stepping in before looking at our level options on the colorful keypad. It would probably help if one of us could read what the buttons say, as all the text is in what's likely Shi-Lai. Taking a wild guess, I hit the largest icon and glance to Siren, who's worrisomely quiet and turning pale.

The elevator shifts before going up, the ride a bit rickety before coming to a sudden stop. I wrinkle my nose as a smoky, dank stench filters into the elevator as the doors part open. Stepping out, my gears lock up momentarily at the sight of a busy, metropolitan precinct, littered with aliens of all shapes and sizes.

Ugh, and smells.

I look to my side to see how Siren is doing and jolt a little when I don't see him there, only to pout when I find him partially hiding behind me. Stepping slowly away from the elevator, I look all around to take in the variety of tightly-bunched buildings and neon-lit signs. It actually reminds me a lot of Kaon, all the dark, grungy alleyways, plumes of toxic steam rising from underground waterways through the street vents, and the overall feel of being dirty.

My kind of place.

"Nightbeat, this place is huge… where are we supposed to go to find anything?" Siren speaks up from behind my shoulder.

Taking a confident stride forward, I lead my partner through the rolling clouds of steam, colorful neon lights dancing across them like an insane artist's swan song. Hearing Siren's light peds skitter quickly behind mine, I glance over my shoulder to answer him, "We're gonna go to the same kinda place where I always find the information I'm looking for."

It takes the pale blue mech a moment to connect the dots (which really aren't spaced that far apart, metaphorically speaking) before he grabs onto the back of my arm, "Wait, you don't mean we're gonna go into a…" he glances around as if afraid that Prowl's gonna jump out and get him in trouble, whispering, "… a bar?"

"Eeyup." I raise an optic ridge at Siren's ominous tone, "What, don't tell me you're nervous, you've been going to my mom's bar every day since you were old enough to walk. Why the cold peds now?"

"Because, this isn't the Rusty Ruby we're talking about, this is… it's an actual bar!"

"An actual bar? Siren, I can't begin to tell you how much sense that doesn't make. There were rough types at the Rusty Ruby all the time, and a fair share of fights. There's no difference."

"Nightbeat, those 'rough types' were our neighbors, we knew them all." He gives me a deadpan stare that I pretend I don't see.

I huff and shake my helm a bit as I continue down the narrow, cracked streets of the strange inner city, wondering if he's gonna be this reluctant with everything. I have to remind myself that I need to be patient with him, though, this is all very new to him. A lot of it is new to me, too, and it seems to be testing my temper. It's not until we make it to what looks like the darkest, grimiest corner of the metropolis that I spot a prime information depot.

A lone, isolated bar that's amidst tall rows of shanty apartments stands out in the mist like a shining beacon of knowledge. I hadn't realized that Siren was still hanging on to the back of my arm until I feel his hand tighten a little, expressing his apprehension. A loud, thumping bass shakes what remains of the mostly broken windows of the bar, the moving shadows and lights flickering across the street from them indicating that there's a lively bunch inside. Like a magnet, the bar pulls in several wandering souls of organic and techno substance alike; it's this city's gold mine of back alley deals and drunken mouths that know too much for their own good.

"You ready?" Before I let Siren answer, I move forward and enter the bar, my visor brightening to adjust to the lighting; or lack thereof. A number of organic eyes turn to look us over as we move through the dancing crowd of what I assume are females of other species, making our way to the bar. Siren swallows stiffly as he looks around at the organic aliens with large optics, doing his best to stay subtle about it. The bartender, washing several glasses and wiping down the bar top with five arms, gives us a sideways once-over before pushing a pair of highgrade cubes towards us, not looking like he's gonna ask for pay.

So the Decepticons must get free booze, I gather. The bartender obviously can't tell that we're under the legal drinking limit (or Decepticons), which is a good sign that perhaps other aliens won't realize we're not adults, either. I absently lift one of the cubes and take a testing sip to see if it's actual Cybertronian highgrade, squinting an optic at the synthesized aroma of it. It's not Cybertron-originated, and it's definitely stronger than anything I've ever tried. Pausing, I turn my helm to Siren as I feel him staring at me incredulously and give him a sheepish smirk.

I try to make up something believable, "Hey, we've gotta look the age 'n part, right? No one's gonna talk to a couple of kids. Act natural." My optics dart off to the side as I steal another sip of the cube.

Wait. Did I just tell Siren he can drink? I must be contending for the record of how fast I can expose him to everything he's not supposed to do. And by how quick he's been to jump on nearly every opportunity, it seems like he's aiming to catch up with me.

I don't have time to re-word my explanation before he picks up the second cube and takes a gulp. Not a sip, but a gulp. I try to keep myself composed as he chokes before holding his hand over his mouth and nose to keep himself from squirting out the drink from either hole. Swallowing it down hard, he clenches his optics shut with a shiver for a moment before looking to me with an accusative pout. I give him a smarmy smirk and shrug.

"See? Natural." I snicker as his cheeks flush in embarrassment and take another drink. Alright, enough fun, time to scope out the crowd, listen in and see who knows anything worthwhile. A lot of these aliens look like workers, maybe even soldiers by their size and build. By the way they keep glancing our way, it seems like they're either still not adapted to seeing Cybertronians—or maybe recognize that we're new faces. Megatron likely only lets his Seekers fly around this Quadrant, so the locals are probably used to seeing the same bots. We're gonna have to get this done fast so we can skip outta dodge before they realize something's off.

Before I can finish scanning the layout of the bar, something soft and squishy suddenly puts pressure on my shoulder. I turn my helm maybe a bit too quickly to seem like a casual patron and blink when I find a small, organic hand touching me. Looking up the length of the slender arm attached to it, I'm met by a pair of sharp, emerald eyes, encased in a pretty doll-like face.

Siren's oblivious as he continues to curiously sip and test his highgrade as I remember to online my vocalizer, "Can I help you?"

"Maybe, but I think I can help you more." The woman's voice is smooth and laced with a vibrant accent like nothing I've ever heard before. She tilts her hooded head to the side, gesturing to the back of the bar where it looks to be more subdued and secluded.

I look at her for a moment before nodding and tap Siren's arm, "Wait here, keep it up with the 'natural look'." Turning before he can respond as he chokes on his drink, I follow the enigmatic creature through the busy dance floor before approaching the table she sits at, deciding to stay on my peds.

"Aren't you going to take a seat?" She seems all too casual about this unexpected encounter.

Maybe I'm the only one who wasn't expecting it.

"What makes you think you can help me? Why do you think I need help?" I keep my own tone calm and aloof to keep anyone around from getting curious as I look down at the feminine face meeting my gaze.

"I don't think, Nightbeat, I know plenty. A lot more than you do." Her wide lips curve into a smirk as she again gestures to the seat across from her.

My optics flare behind my visor as she speaks my designation, and I'm unable to stop my jaw from momentarily slacking. Glancing around cautiously, looking for signs of an ambush, I slowly sit down as requested before looking to her again, "How do you know my name?"

"Details, metal man." She waves her hand dismissively, the coy smirk still in place, "I am Fera Fatima. I am friends with the Capri Detective."