This is insane.

There really is no other word that describes it. Everything's up in the air, and no one seems to know what happens next.

Lennox has taken command of the base. Apparently the appearance of a dismantled Decepticon frame makes this NEST business, and he's the highest-ranking NEST officer under Morshower. The general is stuck at Pentagon and has delegated the honors, so Lennox is calling the shots here now. Thank heavens.

I don't think Cadock and his ilk are pleased. Too bad. We're not that pleased with them either.

I'm glad that Lennox is back. Both because he's a very competent commander in his own right, and because he's on good terms with the Autobots. Ironhide's certainly thrilled he's back.

Also, Lennox took one look at me and just winked. So he's clearly okay with me being back on base less than a month after I was fired. He's probably even happy for me - he certainly never agreed with them sacking me.

That leaves the human command in good hands, at least. Lennox handles all the politics and the diplomacy and the press – since the Combaticons' excursion in downtown L.A. drew quite a bit of attention – which is a relief, since he's quite adept at shielding the Autobots. The world seems to have sussed out that giant alien robots were involved even though neither side transformed, but since the Combaticons didn't kill any humans the fallout is a lot lower than it could have been. It was all property damage and a few broken limbs and open cuts. So that's good.

But that's about all the sense that's being made from the chaos.

Megatron's remains have been moved into an unused hangar. Both Ratchet and Wheeljack are in and out of there constantly, trying to figure out what happened. So far, all Ratchet's told everyone is that it looks like all hell broke loose on the Decepticon base.

I got a bit more info when he kidnapped me to check my knee the other day. Apparently, Megatron was pretty much ripped apart. There were no clean cuts, just a lot of brutal savagery – deep claw marks across his throat, face and chest, his optics were shattered, torn lines and wires in his arms and legs. Ratchet was loath to speculate beyond that, though. So all we know so far is that someone went Dante's circles of Hell on the Decepticon leader.

It's not exactly reassuring. But based on what little I know of the Decepticons, I'd say he had it coming.

Our other sources of information haven't been too helpful yet either. I've taken cubes to Swindle for the last two days, but all he's been willing to say is that it wasn't a planned coup, and that the body dump was Skywarp's idea. Which makes a twisted sort of sense. I read his file, and he's supposed to be a troublemaker and trickster. I guess the ultimate joke is to dump your dead leader on your enemies.

Except he didn't really try to hit anything. It was more making a statement than waging war. I don't know what to make of it without more information.

Jazz and Prowl always come with me when I go to talk to Swindle. They weren't very happy with my intervention. That's okay – I wasn't very happy with them either. We spent a good while shouting at each other, actually, after I made the deal with Swindle. Prowl was all about the chain of command and my job description and who has experience with interrogation. Which is a major turnaround from when they wanted my assistance interrogating prisoners back at Diego Garcia. I wonder what happened – maybe they care more now? Or something?

I guess that could make sense, because Jazz was grumbling about me putting myself in danger. He didn't want me 'gettin' up close an' personal' with the 'Cons. As if it isn't already too late for that. As if I don't already know Swindle better than I know some Autobots. I can certainly read him a lot better than I can Cliffjumper or Hoist, to say it like that. Not that me shouting that had Jazz in any way convinced that letting me nearer to the 'Con is a good idea.

I can give as good as I get, though. So I was ranting back at them about the basic rights of prisoners and how torture isn't a valid interrogation technique.

I won.

Swindle isn't dangerous company. At least not now, when he's shackled on hands and feet and always has two rifles aimed at him. He's still himself, drinking his energon and cracking his jokes, talking back at the guards and whoever else is in the vicinity. He's all attitude at this point, though. Makes me wish I'd given him a harder time with information when I was his captive. I guess I can chalk it down to being more squishable than he is and also being held captive by the Decepticons. He's being held by the Autobots. There's a world of difference.

I thought I would have bigger problems just being near him, to be honest. I'm glad I don't. It even helps – I'm interacting with him in a safe environment, and that does wonders for my confidence. I can even joke back.

I tried talking to Brawl, too. He's being watched constantly, same as Swindle. Two guards with weapons trained on him – usually either the twins or Chroma and Arcee – with Bluestreak, Cliffjumper and Bumblebee trading off on guarding the hangar entrance. Brawl's shackled down, too, and it hasn't helped his attitude much.

I don't know what I expected, but he's not willing to talk to me. He made that perfectly clear. I don't think even Sideswipe had heard all of those insults before.

There's a lot of anger in Brawl.

Vortex and Onslaught are still in medical stasis. Ratchet's had them moved to medbay – he said he might as well get their repairs done while they can't kick up a fuss.

He wasn't very happy with Jazz and Prowl either. I got a "That's my sparklet" after I chewed them out.

I wonder when things'll settle down around here. Everyone's still on edge. It's like we're all waiting for the other shoe to drop. And hoping it doesn't come in the form of another dismembered frame falling from the sky.

"Wake up, love," First Aid croons. Soft fingers stroke my cheek. "I know it's earlier than you would've liked, considering last night, but Ratchet wants you in the medbay."

Considering last night, he says. I wouldn't need to sleep longer if he and his amazing stamina hadn't kept me up and going much later than I my usual bedtime. So I exaggerate my tiredness, yawning and blinking slowly up at him. "Ratchet wants me? Why?"

"He didn't tell me. Just asked that I come to medbay as soon as possible, and to bring you along."

Apparently, I'm not moving fast enough. Because my Protectobot bends down and scoops me up carefully. "Come on, love. Ratchet said that if I brought you, I could take my brothers out of stasis while you two talked."

No wonder he's excited. I'm eager to see those two miscreants back on their feet – pedes – as well. I aim to give them a piece of my mind on reckless driving and scaring me half to death. So I don't object as First Aid trips impatiently while I wash up, dress and eat a hurried breakfast. Then I graciously let him carry me outside at an almost-run, and place me in the ambulance.

He does take the time to kiss me as he fastens the seatbelt. Though with my hand fisted in his hair it's not like he has much of a choice.

"Love you," I murmur as I let him pull back. "Let's go wake your brothers."

He leans in again, presses a fast kiss to my lips. "Love you more. You have no idea, Isobel. You're perfect."

He fades away before I get the chance to respond in kind, and I can only giggle as I take hold of the steering wheel in anticipation. "We could discuss that for hours, but you're in too much of a hurry for me to distract you, aren't you?" I let my fingers run teasingly over the sensitive parts of the dashboard.

"I do love your distractions," he replies, his voice coming from the speakers. "But today I just really, really want Groove and Streetwise back. And if you keep doing that," he purrs – really, purrs – "we're going to run straight of the road."

"Well, we don't want that," I joke back. My fingers do one more circuit over him, and then I put them in my lap. "I'll be good."

The seatback massages me gently. "You're amazing," he says, still in that purring, seductive tone. I just have time to notice my skin breaking out in goosebumps at the sound before we're off.

First Aid drives quite a bit faster than normal through the base. I don't think anyone would blame him, but I can't help teasing him a bit. "Amazing, huh? And here I thought you were going so fast because you were in a hurry to get rid of me."

"Of course," he replies loftily. "I'm overdue for some time with the guys. You're nice and all, doll, but you've been stuck to me since you came back. A guy needs to be free, you know? Bros before hoes and all that jazz."

I stare at the speakers for a moment. Then I collapse with laughter. Seriously, I'm laughing so hard I'm curled over in the seat. "First Aid," I giggle, "you've been spending too much time with Sideswipe."

"Blaster and the cassettes, actually," he replies, and I can hear the grin. "Hold on to something."

I grip the seat hard as he skids to a stop in front of medbay. He transforms around me, leaving me nestled in his hand and cradled up against his chest.

"Rewind showed us some sites on the internet," he continues. "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff that can be found there."

"I'm afraid to ask," I admit as he pushes the door open. "The internet is a den of depravity. It might not be 90 percent porn, but it's certainly 90 percent not suitable for the workplace."

"That's what Rewind said too, more or less," First Aid replies. "There were some pages he just wouldn't show us, no matter how much Blades and Slingshot nagged him."

"Good," I say with feeling. "I don't want to know what they would've gotten up to. Morning, Ratchet!"

The tall medic turns towards us with a nod. "About time, you two," he grouses. I can tell he's not really annoyed, though. "Did you take the scenic route or something? Oh, never mind, just give her here."

He holds out his hand, and I climb from one palm to the other. Ratchet begins moving almost before I'm seated.

"Aid, go wake your brothers," he calls back over his shoulder. "You know the procedure. Let me know if you need me. You shouldn't."

"Yes, Ratchet," my Protectobot chirps – chirps! – before heading away. I giggle again as Ratchet pushes through the set of doors at the back of the medbay.

"He's eager," I comment, looking up at Ratchet's face. My voice is almost swallowed by the wide, empty corridor we're in. It's very sterile-looking – bare walls, bare floor, hidden light fixtures, showers along the side. It looks like a decontamination room.

He grunts in response. "Of course he is. You should have seen him hovering. It was clear fairly early on that they would both be just fine, but he couldn't stop worrying."

"He's like you," I reply, petting the hand I'm sitting on.

"Yes." Ratchet smiles at that. "He'll make a good CMO at some point." He turns a corner, nods towards the room in front of us. "Welcome to the isolation bay."

I haven't been to this part of the medbay before. It looks much the same as the normal one – berths, monitors, cabinets along the wall.

The two Decepticons resting on the berths are new, though.

Ratchet carries me over to the closest one and puts me down on his chest. It feels beyond weird to sit there – intimate and intimidating at once.

"Meet Onslaught and Vortex," Ratchet says, indicating first the one I'm standing on and then the other. "I have them in here so I could make sure they weren't carrying anything foul. They're clear of viruses, though, so it's safe." He frowns. "Though they were most definitely foul. Dirtiest patients I've had in a good while." He notices me grimacing down on the plating he's put me on, and grins. "Don't worry, I've hosed them down. Anyway, I've decided that you're going to be instrumental in the care of our prisoners. So you need to be briefed on their condition."

"You've decided?" I have to ask. It doesn't sound like the kind of decision Ratchet would make alone.

"Yes," he confirms. "Medic's orders, backed by the Prime."

I thought as much. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help," he replies simply. "They're going to need it. We've been handed an opportunity here, sparklet, and I'll be slagged if I let anyone mess this up. We're going to do everything we can to make things right, and that includes medical care for any Decepticons we have in custody. Complete medical care, both physical and mental. That's where you come in. You're in a unique position to help – you have the skills, and you already have the clearance."

"I still have the clearance?" That surprises me a bit. I thought the army had stripped everything from me.

Ratchet apparently knows what I'm thinking. "You had two separate clearances, sparklet. We don't give a scrap about what the humans thought you could know. They couldn't touch your Autobot security level. It's still as high as mine. Only Prowl, Red Alert and Optimus have higher clearance levels than us, everyone else has a lower one."

That's… a heady realization. I'd known that they'd given me a high clearance level, to make sure I could read everything in the files I got, but not that it was that high. My human clearance level was nowhere near that high.

Heh. I have a higher clearance level than Jazz. That has me grinning.

"Depending on what happens next, I'm even contemplating dragging you to the command meetings as a medical specialist," Ratchet continues. "You don't have the rank, but you can be consulted, which would be good when we have to figure out the Decepticons and what to do with them. And it would save me having to fill you in afterwards."

I look up at him again. Something in his tone tells me he's not just talking about the Decepticons already in captivity. "You're hoping for peace now, aren't you, Ratchet."

"The Slagmaker's dead," Ratchet replies softly. "He's lying in pieces a stone's throw from here. We're never going to get a chance like this again. So yes, I'm hoping for peace. I'm working towards it as hard as I can, and so is everyone else. But our hails to the 'Cons haven't been responded to, and Mirage and Hound haven't reported back yet. And while we're waiting for the Decepticons to make a move, and hoping it's a move we want, I'm going to do my pit-damned best to work us in the direction we need to go."

"Maybe I can get something more out of Swindle," I comment. "He's cooperative. Somewhat."

"Maybe," he agrees. "In the meantime, let's see what we get out of his gestalt-mates here."

He waves a hand, indicating the prone form I'm sitting on. "Meet Onslaught. Leader of the Combaticons. Alt mode is a flatbed missile truck. He's a decent tactician, a good fighter, a bit of an arrogant fragger."

I chuckle at that. "I know. I read their files yesterday, and that was all in it. Well, except for the fragger part."

Ratchet snorts. "Good. Then I can go straight to the issues at hand." He pulls one of the monitors closer, points at something I can't make head or tails of. "His main problem is that he shows all the signs of fuel deficiency, probably over an extended period of time. Your hands are fairly sensitive, can you feel it on his plating?"

I kneel down on the recumbent mech to run my hands over the dark metal. "Whoa, that's different."

I'm used to the slick, smooth, almost soft plating of the Autobots. First Aid's plating is even and solid to the touch, smooth and pleasant under my hands. Sunstreaker's polished and pampered plating feels like cool, solid, silky satin. This is nothing like that. Onslaught's plating is pitted, pockmarked and uneven under my hands, almost as if he'd been pelted with pebbles and driven through a sandstorm or something.

"Feel the imperfections?" Ratchet asks. I nod.

"Normally, a mech's self-repair nanites would handle the worst of it, and a few hours with a cleaning cloth and a buffer would handle the rest," Ratchet explains. "The fact that even his surface plating is in this state tells me heaps about what's going on underneath."

"Could he have just neglected himself?" I wonder. Not everyone is as vain as Sunstreaker – and thank heavens for that, or nobody would ever get anything done.

Ratchet shakes his head. "Not even the 'Cons would let their plating get to this state unless they didn't have any other choice. No, this is not voluntary. And look at this." He manipulates the still frame somehow until some of the plating slides apart enough to let him run a finger along the seam. It comes out covered in dark gunk. "You won't find this kind of grit build-up on any mech with access to wash racks. This is years of dirt, I believe. All his seams are like that."

"I thought you said you'd hosed him down. Arenn't you going to scrub him?" I look at the gunk with distaste.

Ratchet laughs at that. "No. I cleaned just enough to see what I'm dealing with, the rest he'll have to handle. When I reactivate him, I'll point him towards the nearest wash racks, and let him do the job himself." He pushes a button on the monitor. "There's more, though. Every line in his frame needs cleaning or replacing. There's build-up and blockages everywhere from the poor-quality fuel they've been imbibing. His tank is almost corroded through, and all his filters are clogged. He also needs his antivirals updated. It all points to a complete lack of general maintenance. And none of that can be handled until we know what's going on, more's the pity. I'm not supposed to do general maintenance on the enemy, only critical repairs."

That makes it clearer what he wants me to do, and why he had First Aid bring me here. "You want me to put pressure on Prime and Prowl."

"Clever sparklet." He grins at me. "You're not afraid to shout at them if necessary, which is good. You did very well last time. So yeah, I want you to do that. You get through to them, Isobel. I've tried, but they've heard the same arguments from me before. If there's even a chance that peace will happen, pit, even if there's nothing but negotiating, I want to fix these guys up. I need to fix them up."

"All of them?" I ask, eyeing Vortex.

"All of them," Ratchet confirms. He picks me up again, carries me over to the other Decepticon. "Vortex is in worse shape than his leader. He's got the same maintenance issues as Onslaught does, which is bad enough, but he also looks like he's been beaten to slag regularly. There are old fractures on every strut in his frame. I've rebroken and welded a few of them, since their placement was bound to cause him pain." He shoots me a look. "I deem that as necessary repairs."

"Sounds right," I agree, completely deadpan.

"He also had a nasty rust infection around his shoulder joint that I've cleared up," Ratchet continues, then puts me down on Vortex's chest just over his spark chamber. "But there's a bigger problem. Can you feel his spark?"

I lie down on the Decepticon chest, which feels even weirder than touching Onslaught's, until I can feel the tell-tale vibration. "It feels… off. Faster, if that makes any sense. I don't have that much basis of comparison, but this feels very different."

"That's because it is," Ratchet confirms. "His spark's working much harder than necessary, and I don't know why. It may have destabilized when the gestalt bond was forced upon them – you've read about that, right? – and Hook, quack that he is, doesn't have any way to counteract it. I've examined his spark closely, but I can't run all the tests I need with him in stasis. I need to run the spark tests while he's awake and reactive. And I can't wake him up before I have a better handle on his maintenance." He sighs then, sounding centuries older suddenly. "Vortex may be a sick glitch, but even he doesn't deserve the constant pain he has to be in because of this."

I listen to the humming spark for a moment longer before straightening. "His plating's even worse than Onslaught's too, isn't it?"

"He's almost starved," Ratchet says. "That brittleness you feel is his body cannibalizing itself from the inside. I've got him on an energon drip now, that helps. But I don't want to send him back to the 'Cons if that's the conditions they live under. If he doesn't begin fueling properly, there won't be anything left of him soon."

"And yet, he looks so big up close," a new voice says.

I stand up and whirl around fast enough to make myself dizzy. "Groove!"

"Hey, Belle," the holoform grins. "Good to see you."

I just throw myself at him. To his credit he catches me, spinning once with the momentum and hugging me close. "I missed you too, honey."

I hold him as tightly as I can for a moment before pushing away. Then I punch him in the shoulder. "You total bastard! You scared me half to death! If you ever, ever do something like that again, I'll – " I punch him again for good measure, and this time he winces. "Dammit, I don't know what I'll do!"

"Does it help if I apologize?" he asks softly.

I pull him close again. "I'll consider it."

"I'm sorry for scaring you," he murmurs into my hair. "I never meant to. I didn't know you were watching."

"Not the point," I reply, pulling back a bit again. "Do you think it would have been any better if I hadn't seen it? I don't want you hurt, Groove. None of you. And that was a dumb move."

"It was," Ratchet confirms from behind us. "Do something like that again, and I'll switch out your wheels with runners and put a cap on your RPMs. You'd make a handsome snowmobile."

Groove shudders exaggeratedly. "A cruel fate."

I giggle and hug him again. "So why are you in here? Should you be extending your holoform this far already? You just woke up."

He glances at Ratchet. "Probably not. But First Aid had duties so he had to leave. And now Alice is visiting Streetwise, and – well…"

Ratchet facepalms. "Say no more. Come on. You don't have clearance for this, Groove, so you can't be in here, but you can hang out in my office with Isobel if you want. Extending that far won't harm you."

Ratchet's office is very… Ratchet. It's utilitarian, pieces of something lying everywhere, a few half-empty cubes standing here and there, one rickety chair behind the desk.

I settle on the floor with Groove, and Ratchet puts down a water bottle for me. It's hilarious seeing the tiny bottle in that large hand – if he didn't have special instruments in his hands for tugging on energon lines and such, I doubt he'd even be able to pick it up.

"Here," he says. "I have some more work to do on those two slaggers in there. Comm me if you need me."

Then I'm left with Groove. For a moment, we just look at each other. Then he grins, as blue sparks in his hand solidify into a bottle just like mine. "Cheers?"

I giggle. "Cheers. To insane Decepticons and an end to the war." My plastic bottle knocks against his fake one, and I drain half of it in one go.

"So the insanity's still on?"

"Yep," I nod. "Nobody seems to know what to do next."

"And how are you doing in the middle of that?"

I love Groove. He's so perceptive, and kind, and gentle. He should be available in bottled form so we could just dose him out to people who need that.

"I'm okay," I reply, drinking down the rest of my water. "Better than when I was on my own, actually. I have a purpose here right now. I was missing that."

"I believe that," he muses. "You weren't made for idleness, Isobel."

"Ain't that the truth."

And then I tell him about the deal with Swindle, and the shouting match with Prime's senior command, and Ratchet's desire to have me work with the captive Decepticons. I've just gotten to the ludicrous idea of me having a higher clearance than Jazz when we're interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Ratchet's not here," Groove calls, and Eject sticks his head in through the doorway.

"That's okay. I was looking for Isobel, anyway." He turns his focus to me. "Do you have a few moments? I wanted your opinion on something."

I shrug, look at Groove. "Sure, I guess?"

"No problem," he agrees. "I'll go see if Streets and Alice are done." He grins wickedly. "If not, I might just join in."

I laugh at that as I stand up. "Somehow, I doubt she'll appreciate that. See you, Groove."

"Bye, Belle."

"Don't call me that."

I can hear him chuckling as I follow Eject outside. He's walking slightly faster than me, so I speed up a bit until we're side by side. "So what's up?"

"I'll tell you when we get there," he replies cryptically. He seems a bit nervous, too. It would be enough to set alarm bells ringing in my head if it wasn't for the fact that this is Eject. He's not going to do anything to harm me.

I do contemplate prying for a moment – I've had my share of unpleasant surprises lately – but Eject isn't the type to play cruel jokes either. So in the end I just walk next to him. "Fair enough."

We walk in silence past most of the buildings and over the runways. I can see a small shed on thefar side of them that it looks like he's making for.

When we're almost there, Eject swings in front of me and stops. Now he definitely looks nervous. "So. Um. I – we need your help. There's someone who needs to talk to you. To all of us, really, but she's afraid. Um. So she wanted to talk to you, and I hope you'll be willing to talk to her even though her boss acted like a complete slagger." The last bit comes out in a rush, like he just wants to get the words over with, and I know who's here now.

"Eject," I say calmly, trying to convince him. "I still consider Laserbeak my friend. She's never hurt me." Besides, if Laserbeak is here, and she has something to tell everyone… This could be the news we're waiting for, and I'm not going to let her hide out her because she's scared. Especially when she's probably scared needlessly.

Eject smiles, and it's such a look of relief that my own shoulders relax as well. "Good! Good. Come on, she's waiting for us."

He leads me around the wall of the shed. It turns out that the structure lacks the entire front wall, so it's more of a lean-to than an actual shed, but it's apparently a good enough hiding spot.

Inside, the Decepticon cassette is waiting for us.

"Laserbeak," I breathe. "It's good to see you."

She chirps at me, tilting her head and leaning towards me hesitantly.

"She says she's sorry," Eject explains. "She didn't know what Soundwave was doing."

"Not your fault, baby girl. I don't blame you." I sit down next to her, frowning. Not too surprised when I get a lapful of cassette a moment later. "To be honest, it's getting to the point where I don't even blame your boss. Don't like him much, true, but don't blame him – he didn't have much choice, did he?"

Laserbeak's avian face has such a look of relief on it that I can't help it, I have to hug her. She burrows in against my shoulder. "I blame the mech lying in pieces on the floor of hangar D," I continue, nodding in what I think it's the right direction. "I'm fairly sure he can be blamed for everything. What I don't know, what we don't know, is why your compatriots decided to dump him on our doorstep. But I think that's why you're here, isn't it?"

Laserbeak chirps again, looks at Eject. Eject, in turn, looks at me. "Isobel, can I borrow your comm phone?"

I hand it to him without asking, watching as he adds an entry in my contacts. When he gives it back to me, it's open on a contact listed as 'Baby girl'.

When it rings, I pick up.

*I've been sent to ask for safe passage for a Decepticon representative, to discuss terms and conditions,* Laserbeak says. Her voice is strange – not a voice exactly, but more like if Siri sounded like a ten-year-old. It hitches and falls strangely, the tonal patterns are all off. *I'm supposed to talk to command, but I'm worried they'll shoot at me if I get close.*

I nod at her. "I can understand why you're afraid, especially in light of the last surprise your side gave us. Which representative, do you know?"

She hesitates, looks from me to Eject. *It's Thundercracker.*

I nod again. I can work with that. It's a bit of a relief, actually, that it's not Soundwave. I remember Thundercracker's image in my files very well – probably because it's one of the ten images I've looked at the most. He's just too good-looking to not be stared at.

That's not what I need to be considering now, though. I banish all thoughts of tall, dark and handsome from my mind. "Okay. Who to contact… Ratchet is busy and doesn't want to be disturbed right now, I guess, or he would be a good choice."

*He's scary,* Laserbeak protests. *He shouts and grumbles.*

I stare at her. "You lived with Megatron and Starscream, and you think Ratchet is scary?"

Eject laughs and finally sits down beside us. Laserbeak instantly moves from my lap to his, settling down with her head on his shoulder. There's something in the way she leans against him and the way his head tilts just right to fit hers that has me smiling.

It's a good step towards peace.

"Prowl and Jazz," I continue, then shake my head. If Laserbeak's intimidated by Ratchet, those two will probably freak her out. I need to think in terms of friendlier mechs. "Hound and Mirage are still away, Bluestreak –" Laserbeak flinches, and I suddenly realize how often he must have been tasked with taking her down. That's a definite no on Bluestreak. " – is on guard. I think I know who we need. I'm going to hang up now, okay?"

Laserbeak nods, though she looks nervous. I leaf through the contacts on my phone until I find who I'm looking for. "Hot Spot? I need your help."

I stand by Prime's side by the runway, looking up as Thundercracker approaches. Laserbeak and Eject are next to me – Laserbeak didn't want Eject to leave, so he's allowed to be here with us. Every now and then she leans against him, almost as though she needs the support.

Which may very well be the case. She's a solitary Decepticon cassette in the middle of the entire Autobot command staff. Optimus did promise her safe passage, but I kind of get her nerves.

I'd have been nervous too, if I were her.

Thundercracker lands gracefully, slowing to a stop and transforming in front of us. And holy crap, that picture in my files did not do him justice.

Because Thundercracker's hot. I mean seriously hot, of the kind that could get even Jazz to sit up and take notice. And then he opens his mouth to speak, and I have to lock my knees to keep from dropping.

"Prime," he rumbles, his voice a deep timbre that instantly has my skin in goosebumps. "Thanks for receiving me."

"Thank you for reaching out to us," Optimus replies. "Laserbeak says you're coming to discuss terms and conditions? For what, exactly?"

Thundercracker hesitates, then nods slowly. "A lot has happened. There is much to discuss. If you wouldn't mind," he looks around at all the onlookers – half the Autobots have nothing better to do than show up to gawk, it seems. "Could we take this somewhere private?"

Optimus nods graciously. "Certainly. I hope you don't mind – we need to disable your weapons first. As a show of faith, my officers and myself will also be unarmed."

I catch a glimpse of Ironhide's frown. He's not happy with that.

I'm glad Prime's doing it, though. It shows good faith. Possibly a bit of naivety, possibly too trusting for his own good, but it's still the right thing to do.

Especially since Thundercracker just nods and surrenders his weapons without comment.

Prime turns, looking around. "Ironhide, Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Isobel. Join us, please. Inferno, let Red know he's welcome to join us via camera should he desire to do so." As his officers begin to move around him, he turns to the cassettes next to me. "Eject, I entrust Laserbeak to your care. I'm sure you'll show her every courtesy. Blaster has been alerted to this."

Eject nods as the flier presses against him. On impulse, I lean towards them. "Go to my house," I whisper. "Hide out for a while, watch a film or something. It's safe."

I have enough time to see Eject nod before a large hand catches me, lifting me up off the ground. I twist around to see that it's Prowl who's picked me up. He raises an optic ridge at me.

I raise an eyebrow right back at him. "So does this mean we're okay?"

He smiles, a tiny quirk of elegant lips. "Yes. I do believe we owe each other an apology, though. I am sorry I shouted at you. Though I do not regret the words, I could have handled that better."

"I'm sorry too," I reply. "I still think I'm right, but you're my friend. I shouldn't have let my mouth run off with me like that."

Thundercracker's staring at us. I guess that kind of conflict solving isn't too common in the Decepticon ranks.

Optimus leads us to the command barracks. It's a fancy name for a hangar that's been reinforced with interior walls and set up with a large video conference solution and plenty of large Cybertronian chairs, with a human walkway at Cybertronian eye-height around the edge of the room. I've only been in here once before, when Jazz and Prowl took me here to hash out what I was allowed and not allowed to do with Decepticon prisoners.

That time worked out okay. I'm hoping this does too.

Thundercracker gets a chair I suspect is usually kept for Silverbolt. It has no back, so there's lots of room for his wings. He's still staring at me as Prime takes his customary seat at the head of the table, and Prowl sits down to his right. I'm set down gently on the table in front of the both of them.

"This room has been shielded," Optimus says. "We can speak freely."

Jazz saunters in as Thundercracker nods, setting cubes of energon in the center of the table. "Help yourselves, mechs."

Ratchet shoves cubes in everyone's direction. I have to jump fast to dodge the ones sailing towards Prime and Prowl.

Thundercracker just looks at his cube, though, making no move towards it. At least he's finally looked away from me.

"Drink," Ratchet insists, not unkindly. "If your systems are in any way in the same shape as the Combaticons', you need the fuel. It's clean, I swear."

Thundercracker still hesitates. "I fueled before I left base."

"Well, it's there if you want it," Optimus says gently. "Now, if you're all ready, we'll begin."

Thundercracker turns to him, then looks at me again. It's beginning to make me uncomfortable.

"No offense, Prime, I know you're cooperating with the… humans," he says, a slight sneer on his face. It makes him looks like Starscream for a moment. "But I don't see why one should be present for this discussion."

Prime looks at me. I look back, raising my eyebrows and hoping he doesn't kick me out. "Maybe you should introduce me, Optimus?"

A slight crinkle to the corner of his optics, and I know I'm safe. "Of course. That was remiss of me."

I can hear Ratchet snorting from a few places down.

"Thundercracker, this is doctor Isobel Harrington," the Prime explains, turning towards the Decepticon again. "She's not an emissary for the humans. She's an honorary Autobot, a medical specialist working with our mechs. She has no loyalty to the humans on whose base you reside."

"She was the one who was held on your base a few months back," Ironhide grunts. "Sure you don't recognize her, Decepticon?"

I frown at him. "Ironhide, that was uncalled for."

"An honorary Autobot," Thundercracker says flatly. "How does that work? Why should I trust it with this?"

"Laserbeak trusts me," I reply. "Swindle does too, I think. If it helps, think of me as – as the Prime's cassette, or something. I swear that I'm on your side. Cybertronians' side," I specify as Thundercracker raises an optic ridge at me. Damn, but he's handsome when he does that.

"But you're human."

I shrug. "A design flaw. Trust me, I'm nice."

"Isobel is mated to my apprentice," Ratchet shoots in. "We consider her one of us."

Now Thundercracker's staring at Ratchet, then at Prime, then at me. "You Autobots are all insane." He sighs. "Very well. I'll accept the human if you guarantee that it won't act against us."

"Good," Ratchet says. He leans over and pushes the energon cube slightly closer to Thundercracker. "Now will you refuel? Your levels are under fifty percent."

"That's normal," Thundercracker replies, ignoring Ratchet's startled huff at the comment. "And I'll thank you not to scan me without asking first, medic."

I guess I know why the Combaticons were borderline starvation now. Based on Ratchet's reaction, less than fifty percent is not good. He looks about an inch away from hooking Thundercracker up to an energon drip right there.

The Seeker clearly notices. "All right, I'll fuel," he concedes. "But let me say my piece first." He stands up and turns slightly until he's facing the room. The Autobots around me straighten, focus sharpening across the board.

Well, except for Prowl. I don't think he ever relaxed.

"As you may have figured out," Thundercracker begins, "the Decepticons are under new leadership. Four days ago, SIC Starscream killed Lord Megatron in an unanticipated altercation. The fallout of the fight was enough to incapacitate Starscream as well, making him ineligible for leadership. At this point in time, Soundwave leads the Decepticons."

The silence is absolute. Then everyone breaks it at once, speaking on top of each other until Prime raises his hands.

"Peace. All will have a chance to speak. Jazz?"

"Are ya tellin' me that Screamer finally succeeded? He's been tryin' t'get Megatron dethroned for ages."

Thundercracker shakes his head. "Not so. There was nothing premeditated about this. Also, Star never wanted to lead. He just didn't think Megatron was capable of it anymore, and someone had to take over." He closes his mouth abruptly, as if he'd said too much. I don't think he meant to reveal any personal details, it was probably just a reaction to the slur on his trine leader.

"How is Starscream incapacitated?" Ratchet demands. He would be interested in that, and Thundercracker should be relieved at the changed angle.

The Decepticon hesitates, though. "He… the attack… It ruined him. His mind is broken. He no longer responds to us. We – Skywarp and I – we've been forced to shut down the bond."

Ratchet shoots me a quick glance, and most of the others turn to look at me as well.

"Isobel?" Optimus prompts. "Your opinion?"

I look up at the dark Seeker. "There is no processor damage?"

He shakes his head. "Hook has confirmed that his processor's okay."

I nod. "Then it's most likely a psychological reaction. It could be anything from an acute shock reaction to severe, complex PTSD. It's not unusual in abuse victims."

"So when will he snap out of it?" Thundercracker says. He's staring at me again.

"That's impossible to say. He may come back to himself tomorrow, or never. I'm afraid at this point that all you can do is wait. Only time will show how severe his condition is. Keep trying to reach him, to reassure him, but keep some distance in case he wakes up violently. He may very well wake up and not know when or where he is, or even who you are at first. I hope you've removed him from the scene and put him somewhere he deems safe?"

Thundercracker's focus shifts, and I'd bet he's letting his trinemate know. "There's nowhere on the Nemesis where he feels safe," he says after a moment, "but we're doing the best we can." His stare softens, though. I think I've been accepted.

There's a brief moment of silence before Ironhide breaks it. "So… the 'Cons are loyal to Soundwave now? It seems a bit too easy."

"There's nothing easy about it." Thundercracker frowns. "Our situation is precarious. We're almost out of energon. Soundwave is holding us together for now, but the outcome was unclear before me and Skywarp supported him. When Onslaught and Scrapper agreed as well the others settled." He looks directly at Prime. "It's a solution, but it won't work for long. We're on borrowed time."

Optimus nods slowly.

"So what d'you actually want?" Jazz asks, tilting his head and leaning back in his chair. "Why did you come?"

Thundercracker in-vents heavily. "Understand that this isn't easy. We've discussed this at length, and we really can't see another option, but we're not happy about it. The problem is, at the end of it, that Megatron was the driving power behind the Decepticon cause. We still want what he wanted, but now we're lacking the clear leadership, the way forward." He looks intently at the Prime. "We didn't want to do this," he repeats. "But it's the only way we can see to survive. And as Blast Off said, we can't do any good offline. Consider this our last, desperate measure."

"Understood," Optimus says. "Go on."

Thundercracker straightens, stands tall and arrogant and proud in front of us. His wings flare wide, his chin is raised, enabling him to look down at everyone seated around the table. His posture is completely at odds with his words. "I came on behalf of the Decepticons to sue for peace."

The relief around the table is almost palpable. I can see Ratchet trying to suppress a wide smile.

"I think we come to an agreement," Optimus replies, and I can hear the smile. "What terms do you suggest?"

"I've been authorized to offer the following," Thundercracker says, pulling a datapad from somewhere and handing it to the nearest officer, who happens to be Wheeljack. "The Decepticons will cease all hostilities against Autobots and against planet Earth and its inhabitants. We will recognize Optimus Prime as the leader of a unified Cybertron, and by extension all Cybertronians. In return, the Autobots will offer fuel and medical care to any Decepticon who asks for it. There will also be no punishment enacted for acts of war committed against the Autobots by Decepticon soldiers." He looks from Prime to Prowl and Ironhide at that. "Also. The Decepticons will be allowed equal rights with the Autobots. There will be no return to the caste system we rebelled against. We will have equal influence in the process to set up a new Cybertronian government, and full rights to take any positions we're qualified for. There will be no discrimination against frame types, no laws or rules barring anyone from office or chosen function based on former alignment, frame type, optic color or city of origin." He shoots Optimus a look that has to go straight to his core. "Megatron may be dead, but the Cause lives. We will not abandon our goals."

"I see." Optimus frowns slightly. "Thundercracker, a room has been set aside for you. I'd ask that you wait there while we talk this over. Two of my mechs are waiting outside to escort you. Laserbeak may join you, if you both wish."

The Seeker inclines his head. "Thank you, Prime." He hesitates again, though, as he turns to leave. "I ask that you don't take too long to deliberate. We're on a knife's edge, here. I'd hate to come back to find Soundwave dead and Motormaster in his place."

I notice the tiny shudder through the Prime's frame at that. "Understood. We will let you know as soon as possible."

Swindle was downright chatty when I told him that I was late because I'd been sitting in on the command meeting with Thundercracker. The whole 'one piece of info for one cube' thing seems to be dead, because he suddenly told me all about the plan of using the Combaticons as a distraction, how they were meant to pull enough Autobots away so that Skywarp and Blast Off could get close without getting shot down. He apparently thinks working with Skywarp is a hoot and a half from the way he was laughing about it, and he seemed less worried about the state of the Decepticons than Thundercracker was. Though I suspect that that's mostly because he just doesn't care who's in charge. Swindle is an opportunist, and he'll be fine under any management.

What a command meeting to debut on.

Thundercracker had barely left before everyone started talking at once. Optimus settled them easily enough, I guess it's a sign of how much they respect him. Not that that meant that the discussion itself was easily settled.

Everyone seems to agree that the medical requirements and the fuel is a done deal. Ratchet was ten types of giddy at that. He even insisted that medical treatment and general maintenance be made a mandatory condition of the agreement, not just an offer, so all the Decepticons had to report to him at some point. I think he's afraid they'll weasel out of it if they get the chance. And he really doesn't want any of them to suffer.

Ratchet is a genuinely good spark. He just hides it well.

The rest was apparently easy to agree with in theory, but harder to hammer out in practice. Red Alert and Ironhide pretty much threw a fit at the tabula rasa condition, and Prowl kept saying that there at least had to be some form of punishment for crimes against the civilian population. He wants justice for Praxus, I guess, and after reading about it I can't really blame him. Wheeljack kept insisting that they needed more information to even begin to figure out who was responsible for what, and that if they were talking crimes against civilians, then he as a primary weapons engineer would be equally as guilty as the 'Cons. Which Ratchet disagreed with, since Wheeljack couldn't be held responsible for what other people did with his weaponry. And on it went.

That one's going to be a proper snake pit to figure out.

Everyone seems to agree that the discrimination conditions were valid, though. The Autobots may be remembering Cybertron differently than the Decepticons, but no one wants to willingly suppress another mech. These aren't bad bots. Plus, no few of the Autobots came from lower standards of living themselves – Mirage and a few others being the notable exceptions – and though the Decepticons probably had it a lot worse, the idea of equal rights seemed to appeal to everyone.

Which is good, or I would have had to shout at them some more.

The meeting dragged on, though. When they started discussing technicalities, I excused myself. I really don't have an informed opinion on a lot of the stuff they discussed. It's ancient history to them, so for me it's really prehistoric. I stayed long enough to make sure that they seemed to be willing to treat the 'Cons humanely. The rest will have to be up to the Autobots to figure out.

Not that the entire peace treaty needed to be hashed out today, even though it seemed they were heading that way. All they really have to do now is to figure out whether they agree to Thundercracker's demands or not, or whether they'll counter with a suggestion of their own. Either way, I don't think they'll let this chance get away from them. Nobody wants to fight a war anymore.

I'm going to drag First Aid to my house to properly meet Laserbeak afterwards. I should have done that already, it's strange that they've never properly talked. She remembers him, I bet, since he's treated her before, but now we're just going to hang out. I aim to show the Decepticons what a normal, peaceful life looks like. Call it my little contribution to the peace process.

Wish I could invite Thundercracker too. He seems like a decent mech, Decepticon and war criminal aside. But I guess I have to wait until it's official that they're opening negotiations.

When that happens, and when we know which 'Cons can be trusted to do what, I'm going to talk to Bumblebee. I can't imagine an occasion more worthy of a party than peace talks.

Turns out, I don't have to wait long. It's just been a few hours since I left the meeting when I'm standing on the runway again, flanked by the Protectobots on one side and Laserbeak, Eject and his family on the other, looking up at Optimus and the rest of the command staff. Thundercracker's standing slightly to one side, almost like he doesn't want to be noticed.

"Autobots," Optimus begins, making sure his voice is pitched loud enough that everyone can hear him. I notice Lennox and some of the NEST guys in front of me wincing slightly at the volume. "Human allies. I have good news to share."

I can't quite suppress the grin. Lennox is quirking an eyebrow at me.

"The last few days have been chaotic. You all know we have most of the Combaticon gestalt captive, and Megatron's offlined frame is in our hands." He gestures towards Thundercracker. "Earlier today, Thundercracker, Second to Air Commander and Winglord Starscream, sought free passage to our base. He brought with him an proposal on behalf of the Decepticons."

There's a whisper running through the crowd at this point. I can see Fireflight almost bouncing on his toes, Skyfire eyeing Thundercracker with speculation, Perceptor looking cautiously optimistic, Cliffjumper frowning.

Optimus' gaze sweeps over the assembled mechs. He smiles, optics crinkling at the corners. "With some alternations, we have decided to accept the proposal. As of this moment, we are officially in a ceasefire. Tomorrow, Thundercracker will be joined by a delegation from the Decepticons, and we will begin to work out a peace treaty."

For the second time today, there's absolute silence around me. Then there's an earsplitting roar. I throw my hands over my ears hoping to preserve at least some of my hearing. I'm not the only human doing so.

Optimus raises his hands again. "These are the preliminary conditions we've all agreed to," he says. "The Decepticons will cease all hostilities against humans and other Cybertronians. They will submit to my authority, but will be equal participants in the drawing up of the peace treaty. Previous war crimes against civilians will be punished." Sharp blue optics sweep over the Autobots in front of him. "That goes for both sides. Both Autobots and Decepticons will be held accountable."

I notice quite a few aborted protests at that. I don't know how much bad the Autobots have done to civilians – but I guess the fact that the war they waged decimated their home planet might count against them.

It does sound like they've resolved it for now. At least enough to get the peace talks going. But it's still going to be a pit to figure out. I don't envy whoever it is who's going to be the Cybertronian tribunal.

"The Decepticons will surrender complete medical journals and personnel files to Ratchet," Optimus continues. "In return, the Autobots agree to give medical assistance and general maintenance to any Decepticon in need of it."

Hah. Clever phrasing. I don't know if Thundercracker quite knows what he's agreed to there.

"I expect you to show the incoming representatives every courtesy. If you have any questions, please just ask." Then he smiles, widely enough that his optics narrow to mere slits. Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet and Ironhide, all standing up there with him, are grinning as well. Ratchet widest of all. "Congratulations, Autobots. You've seen the end of the war."

This time I manage to cover my ears before the noise erupts.

I guess maybe we'll have to have a party tonight instead.