Hello all, sorry for disappearing for two months there. I have now finished my move and should be able to return to my previous posting schedule. I am however still looking for a job so wish me luck.

Please enjoy!

Chapter 21:

When Chromia first found out that the slime-infested rust bucket of an Ops Commander had reneged on their deal *he had been two steps from going up top and putting a cannonblast through him. The consolation prize they had been offered as an alternative had not made *him any happier either. The Iacon clade had immediately convened their council to plan out how to phrase the new proposal in such a way as to be appealing to the Autobot Division they would be unwillingly commandeering.

It had taken a full dark-cycle of arguing back forth for them to realize that forward progress would only truly be possible after they actually knew what issues the topside clades would have with the merger. They had taken a few joors to catch some recharge and then Elita was off to deliver the meet-up invitations to the other clade leaders. Chromia would have gone with *him, however the White Queen knew *his second was still too riled to be of any use, and so put the dusky blue femme to work overseeing the rearrangement of the Council Chamber.

Chromia fussed and fumed as *he directed mecha to place this chair here and that pedestal there, and overall complain that *he was a fighter not a decorator! However, by the time the White Queen returned Chromia was winding down and resigned to the necessary evils of the war. Elita just smiled indulgently and grabbed the other for some mutual aid in cleansing before their guests arrived.

A bare half-joor later the entire Iacon clade was assembled to greet the topside leaders. The preparations for them had been difficult to complete as the Autobot femme leadership did not have a full council and even several same-station leaders. The soldier clade fortunately had a White and Red Queen, but there were two other Reds, two Punctums, and four Lances, each leading their own microclade. Elita restrained *his inner sigh at the helm-ache that was sure to ensue from the coming political scrap-storm.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Jazz rang Blackshot's doorchime for entry. His mission was finished and it was time for his final debrief and reassignment. Jazz was sad about the latter, he knew wherever he was placed this time would probably be far away from all the friends he had made here and the saboteur would miss them. He was grateful that his commander had allowed him a brief reprieve to say his goodbyes over the dark-cycle, but it was going down bitterly in his tanks. Especially when he thought about Blaster. His best friend, and now he was going to have to abandon him like everyone else.

Jazz sighed, but refused to show his depression, straightening up with a false confidence as the door to the office opened. He saluted Blackshot and sat when requested, all with perfect ops poise. Blackshot saw through it anyway. "You can stop fretting, I'm not sending you away."

The saboteur's visor brightened. "Sir?"

"The mission to Tarn has made you and your team too visible, so I'm pulling you back from outgoing missions until the Decepticons' attention moves elsewhere. You worked well with Bumblebee and Mirage so I am giving them to you permanently. However, that said, Mirage is going to be unavailable to you for a little while because of a critical mission that I desperately need his talents for. Blaster has chosen to remove himself entirely from the ops field and stay with Communications, not that I blame him since he is department head, however he has offered the full cooperation of his Division whenever we need it. Your new post is an unusual one. Tactical and Ops have never had a very friendly relationship and the departments often clash with one another. Tactical has difficulty calculating for our agents, especially since we simply cannot servo over our personnel files, and Ops is reluctant to allow sensitive information out where non-ops approved Mecha might potentially be able to access it. This is where you come in. You will work with Prowl directly as an advisor with the goal of improving communication between the departments. As the official liaison your clearance will be upgraded to a level just below my own so that you may act as a living repository for tactical and access Ops classified information. Prowl most likely will not be pleased by this, but I already have Prime's permission so there is nothing he can do about it."

Jazz just sat stunned, he was working with Prowl, Prowl the stubborn, Prowl the rule-stickler, Prowl the unfun speechifyer who he had sworn to help. Well. Wasn't that an unseen boon. He had felt guilty for not following through on his Prowl Plan, but the mission had taken precedence. Now, however, he could work from inside unimpeded. Jazz grinned the grin of an unholy prankster. "Sounds fun boss, when do I start?"

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Well, Elita had been right, on every account. The topside femmes were very upset about the takeover. Furious was an understatement to express their ire and so far that and their fear were the only topics they would allow. They were distressed at the idea of losing their individuality and the only reason they had not accused the Iacon clade of subterfuge was the fact that Optimus Prime had delivered the orders to their current commander personally just before they left for the underground palace. It was creeping into the sixth joor of discussion and Chromia was relieved when the real underlying issues were finally addressed with the solemn resignation by all that the merger was not going to be avoidable.

The soldier clade's White Queen was currently addressing the floor. A solid black femme with slips of cream highlighting with all the grace and silver tongued wit of the pit viper *he was named for. "As current commander of this clade I must protest the overshadowing that your clade will present when we merge. Our clade is small and even with the numbers of our eight allied subclades we will be as nothing but scattered crystal dust among you. And what of when the war is over? Will you still control our clades? What experience do you have to bring that would make you worthy to command our mobile clade and could you even comprehend the difference in culture that will be necessary to maintain such a wide-spread contingent?"

ElitaOne rose to answer *his counterpart on an even setting. "Queen Viper, it is not our intent to destroy what you are, but you speak the truth on several points. We are many and you are few. Ours is a stationary clade, yours is not. The war has changed so much of everything and I fear as you do that we will not come out the same as we once were. Only if we work together however, can any remnant of our culture be preserved. We of the Iacon clade do not wish to be soldiers forever, and it has already been decided by our council that we will step down and away from the soldier clade when peacetime comes."

Viper nodded *his acceptance of that stipulation and Elita went on. "As for maintaining autonomy, such will largely not be possible as you have feared, however, it may be possible for you to retain cultural independence."

"How could it be possible for us to have one but not the other when they go servo in servo?" Viper asked skeptically, *he had begun pacing in *his agitation and now stepped forward in subconscious physical challenge of the other White Queen.

Chromia stood and move to a position where *he could protect Elita, no upstart soldier was going to threaten one of *his femmes, especially not *his leader. ElitaOne motioned *his Red Queen back, this was no threat, merely a mech frightened by potential loss and the unknown. "You are not a White Queen, are you Viper? I can see it in your stance, you were once a Red, weren't you."

Viper flinched as if struck, but held *his ground in silence.

"I mean you no harm in my observation, but perhaps I can help you. As the Prime has mandated it, I am to stay the White Queen when we merge and my council is to take over as the leadership. This is what does not sit well with you the most, you resent losing power." Elita said gently. "However, it does not have to be that way. Since the Iacon clade will be the primary component if the new Femme Division my council will need to head it to maintain our own culture, however, if we adopt the hierarchy of the Black Queens then additional seats on the council can be made for your leaders. This would also allow for promotion in the ranks without without the worry of exclusion of non-Iaconians. Your clades would optimally hold individual positions, but answerable to my chain of command. I would also be most ameniable to training up a new White Queen for the soldier class to lead you when we step down."

The black and cream femme stepped back to confer with *his allies. Their whispering was furiously fast and many arms waved in nonverbal expression before a verdict was reached. Viper turned around again to face the Iacon clade leaders. "Our clades would know what the details of their subdivisions' charters would be before we agree. The allied clades wish to add the stipulation that all immigrant femmes of the Iacon clade be given the choice to return to their original clades to bolster their numbers."

Elita smiled. "The allied clades' request is accepted, we have in fact had several members of our clade already request permission to rejoin their old brethren. As for details the Iacon clades has prepared a detailed brief for each of you to consider. We would not ask for your answers now as a decision made in haste is often regretted at leasure. The Prime expects our answer by this dark cycle so a joor before will be the deadline. Please take our good will as you depart and our wishes of wisdom in your decisions."

The assembled femmes arose, took the offered datapads and began to depart. Several of them already looked pleased by the pads' content.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Ever since Jazz had been revealed to be an ops agent the Comms Deck had been an awkward place to be for Blaster. Due to the secrecy in which the mission had been shrouded all of his subordinates thought that Jazz had been using him and subsequently became very protective over the Polyhexian host. The half muttered imprecations that permeated the Deck were getting worse by the joor and Blaster knew that if one more mech came to him with offers of a sympathetic shoulder to cry on he was going scream. It was sweet that they cared about him that much but the truth was far from what they perceived. Blaster was becoming concerned over possible retribution and quickly opened a private line to Blackshot.

-:-General Blackshot, sir, Ah need a moment of ya time if ya are available.-:-

-:-Of course, I always have time for a former agent. What's the matter?-:-

-:-Well sir, Ah think Ah'm going ta need ta do some damage control. Mah mechs seem ta have gotten tha impression that Ah was bein' pulled about by tha spark strings by Jazz an' they are nearly out for energon. Ah don't want ta break tha silence order on tha mission, but Ah can't see what else ta do. Do ya possibly have any suggestions?-:-

-:-Alright mech, no problem, here's what we'll do...-:-

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

As the dark cycle turned over the land a large mech moved slowly towards his quarters. There were many who would say that he was master of all he surveyed, lord of his people. He would say he was a humble servant and little more. His humble bearing and honorable meta set had swayed more than one mech to undying loyalty but he would acknowledge none of it. This dark cycle however, the mech's shoulders were bowed with the weight of his world. His rival was venturing deeper and deeper into forbidden realms and the great mech was desperate for ways to stem the slaughter the Matrix kept showing him in his dreams. Optimus prayed fervently that the addition of the hidden femmes would bring a new path to his visions, but feared that it was instead the beginning of the end.

The halls seemed to be more shadowed to his optics this dark-cycle, but he suspected it was only a reflection of his own black thoughts. Optimus often longed for the simpler orns of his youth and this orn was no exception. He found his meta continually straying to his once best friends who were now long lost. Dion and Ariel had been his closest companions and greatest confidants, but when he roused from stasis those long vorns ago they were no where to be found. Optimus had not even been permitted to search for them due to the Council's insistence on following proper presentation procedures for the new Prime. It was later, after almost a full decacycles that he finally learned what happened to his friends. Dion had been saved by an emergency spark transplant to a new frame and now went by the designation of Ultra Magnus. Ariel, however, had never been found and, after a full vorn, been pronounced deceased.

Optimus shook his helm to clear it of the morbid thoughts and wearily typed in his passcode. The door to his suite slid open and he trudged into the darkness intent on simply getting to his berth for some rest. He was stopped in the doorway to his berthroom however, by a voice he never imagined he would hear again.

"Hello Orion."

kkcliffy: yes, the cuddle pile was my favorite too, especially since in my mind the cassettes glomped Jazz and Blaster like a bunch of overgrown leeches. Poor Blackshot too, the femmes have been so secretive for so long that he had no way of acquiring any information at all.

RainbowGuardian13: thank you so much for your support, it was so nice to see that my readers understand what I was going through.

reader: so, I'm not sure how to respond to you. You say you like my story, yet decry a significant portion of my story as too much and boring. I feel I should warn you also that the femmes will continue to have a significant presence in this and my other stories, and the other canon characters will also be receiving similarly lengthy backgrounds. Also, basic mech meets other mech and have glorious interfacing all in a few chapters is not my method of writing, so if you are expecting that you will be very disappointed by the remainder of my stories. I will not be at all offended if you should choose not to read my stories as no story can satisfy everyone.