Chapter 12

"Hospitality"

Hawkmoon ran her digits down the edge of her smooth, pristine berth as she waited for the urge to recharge to take her. She wondered what it was going to cost her - taking up residence however temporarily and availing of Sunburst's facilities. Her room had a wash-rack (essentially a shower crossed with a pre-Collapse car wash) and a press half-filled with shimmering energon cubes. That they weren't immediately fresh didn't much matter; they largely all tasted the same, with fizzy crackles of electricity and boundless revitalization. Not quite a beautifully spiced cajun chicken pizza from the Last City's downtown, but it was sustenance and that was that.

Hospitality wasn't cheap, she understood, even if free. Kindness had to be answered with kindness, and Hawkmoon hadn't been kind on arrival. Shaken, sure, but when was that ever an excuse? She needed to be... better. Around people. At least people who weren't like her - or rather, how she used to be. Formidable. Driven. Wary. Immortal.

Mortal now. Because Gecko was-

Gecko was gone.

Hawkmoon scowled and gritted her denta. The phantom pain rippling through her core, her heart, her spark, was still too bloody and raw - and would be for all eternity, in all likelihood. Or up to whenever her systems needed to be wiped and restarted, given a reset. Lennox-3, Hawkmoon-1. Did Cybertronians do that? She looked it up, rifling through the public global network with keywords and a query, and came away with the conclusion that they didn't. Would she have to? Hawkmoon was human. Or she felt human. Or maybe she was just pretending. Either way, there was no way of knowing. Maybe so, maybe not - but there was nothing to do about an upcoming reset except wait.

She didn't like waiting.

Morning rolled around. Hawkmoon had her internal chronometers aligned with the Vosian timezone, so waking up from a short and blessedly uneventful recharge on time was relatively easy. Of course, she would have liked to have overslept, but the benefits of doing so had been left behind with what remained of her humanity - with her Exomind body and all its feigned mortal shackles. She pushed away from the berth, lamented the lack of needing to stretch aching muscles, and stepped out of the room. There were two floors in the apartment, with only bedrooms and the like on the second one. Hawkmoon walked down the stairs, shuffled into the living room, and muttered a "hi."

Sunburst, who had been sitting cross-legged in a metallic armchair and reading from a datapad, glanced up. Her optics were guarded and wary, but not without the glint of remorse - though what for Hawkmoon had no idea. "You're... up."

"I am." Hawkmoon glanced at the empty chair beside her, but didn't sit down. It felt too... what was the word... presumptuous? She settled for presumptuous. "What happens now?"

"You have two decaorns before joining Contrail at the Vosian Exploratory Institution," Sunburst said in a clipped, reserved tone of voice. Like she wanted as little to do with Hawkmoon as possible. Which was... semi-fair.

"Contrail told you?"

"He did, only three breems ago. I imagine it came as a shock for his colleagues, to turn to a teaching term for this vorn, given how much work he has done on the political sciences front, but..." Sunburst gave Hawkmoon a searching look. "Nightbeat died for this. Nightbeat died for you."

Hawkmoon stilled. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"I don't know why - and right now, I think it would be best that I don't find out, but that doesn't erase the truth of what happened," the other Seeker continued. "A mech is dead, and a good one at that, so you... better make the most of this opportunity we're giving you."

"Thank you," Hawkmoon murmured. "Really. You have no idea how much of a relief this is."

"I have some," Sunburst said quietly. A pause stretched between them. The other Seeker vented a sigh and laid her datapad down on the living room table. "Your memory cores were damaged, correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you need to see a physician?"

"Already done," Hawkmoon said quickly. "I, uh... it was a mech by the name of Complexius. In Stanix."

Sunburst looked away for all of a moment, optics dimming. They brightened not a second later. "So he is... and his records speak for themselves. Then we likely have little to fear there. What of yourself? What do you know?"

"What do I know of... what?"

"Of being a Seeker? Tell me what we are."

"We're... uh, we can fly."

Sunburst groaned, engine rumbling. "We are so much more than that. Flight-capable chassis are not as uncommon as you may believe. No, what makes us Seekers is our standing, our heritage, our culture and traditions. What do you know of that?"

Hawkmoon worried at her lip - or tried to, anyways. Cybertronian mouths sucked. Apart from the tongue/glossa bit. That was a return to something she'd missed. Kinda. "Not... much. Or anything, really. Yeah, flying is the best I can think of. But hey, why worry about standing when you never have to?"

Sunburst fixed her with a disapproving look. "It is everything. When the Quintessons were beaten back, it was we-"

"Who?"

"The Quintessons."

"Yeah, that's..." Hawkmoon looked the word up on the Teletraan network. She was not disappointed. "Oh. Oh wow. Scrap from the Pit, that's... woah." It was history. Ancient history, even by Cybertronian standards, but it was so freaking cool. There were evil aliens and brave, valiant heroes and whole damn war across the planet, and then and then and then-

"Hawkmoon!" Sunburst snapped.

Hawkmoon blinked the flashing images and documents away. "Wha- sorry?"

"Enough. Listen. Your time here is short."

"I have two decaorns you said." Hawkmoon frowned.

"Yes," Sunburst agreed, albeit with exasperation - and reluctance. "Two decaorns to learn all you need to know of what it means to be a Seeker before you join the Institution. Contrail instructed me to ready you before that happens."

"But... why?"

"You will not be the only would-be Energon Seeker he instructs."

Hawkmoon understood, all too quickly. "... Aw frag."

Sunburst's frown tightened. "Your language is-"

"-vulgar, I know, but that's not going to change. The rest of it, though..." She heaved and vented air, engine growling. Hawkmoon sat down on automatic, reservations wiped away. "That's... I can do this. I can. Okay. Just... yeah, sure, pile it on. I'm going to listen. I promise."

Hawkmoon used to be Lennox-2. Lennox-2 had been a Hunter - and a damn good one at that. Lennox-2 had been proud of being a Hunter, in love with the freedom it offered her, and at ease with the dangerous wilderness she embraced like a second home. Lennox-2 had never really understood Warlocks, or even liked them - except for a few. A small few. One of them was her best friend. Still, though, that didn't mean she did as Warlocks were wont to - sitting around, listening to stories, debating, reading, drinking tea. Okay, maybe the tea part was alright, Traveler knew Ikharos could make a good cup, but she was still opposed to everything else. Sitting still while inside and learning was anathema to everything about her.

Sunburst pushed her into doing just that. It was fragging torture.

For the first two orns they discussed history. Nothing global, nothing of any real consequence, mostly just the bickerings of Vosian royals ('cause the winged robots had them, apparently) and the old storied tales of their knightly Energon Seekers, riding out into the vast unknown. A couple of interesting events were touched on here and there, like the Quintesson wars in which Seekers flew against the many-faced alien slavers as the Cybertronian resistance's own home-grown aerial armada, and then right up to the tragedy of the Rust Plague and how Seekers had been forced to sever all ties with the far-reaching Cybertronian colonies across the reaches of space lest the metal-eating plague find its way to their homeworld. Horrifying, that - but interesting in a morbid sense.

In that Sunburst was merciless, drilling information almost directly into Hawkmoon's processor from dawn to dusk. Only on the third orn did their pace slow down. Sunburst talked about tradition. She talked about caring for their wings (which was welcome) and how they held their wings when in the presence of Seekers of differing ranks (which was less welcome, screw the authority).

"What about with non-Seekers?" Hawkmoon asked, curious.

Sunburst scoffed. "It does not matter where grounders are concerned; as a Seeker you are higher than they are, no matter your rank."

That was how Hawkmoon learned that Seekers were, as a people, arrogant and not a little racist where their fellow Cybertronians were concerned - to say nothing of aliens. The Quintessons hadn't left all that great an impression, it seemed. Hawkmoon decided to put off even slipping mention of how an alien in a Cybertronian body would have been received. With scalpels, probably.

People were simply awful.

By the end of the third orn, Sunburst stood up, stretched her wings (tilted so as to impart that she was of a higher 'rank' or 'standing') and said, "Tonight we shall dine on energon farmed from Luna 2. It is our right as Seekers of Vos."

"Uhuh," Hawkmoon mumbled. "What's... different about this energon?"

Sunburst said not a word, just walked. Right into the hallway. And then out the door. Hawkmoon, unwilling to cross her less-than-ideal teacher, followed her out onto the balcony. They walked right to the edge, neither wavering. Interest blossomed within Hawkmoon's spark, battling with the excitement of promised flight - and fly they did. Sunburst stepped off the balcony, transformed, and hovered in place. Hawkmoon rushed to join her, chassis rippling and shifting into her alternate form. They shot off together, Sunburst leading, and fell into a formation Hawkmoon had only just learned. Oh, how the Seekers loved their formations.

They wound through a jungle of towers and uplifted tram-tracks, over and under raised motorways and around other living jets, finally arriving at a huge platform in the air that looked just like a pedestrianized street of the Last City except it led nowhere on either end. Restaurants and shops of illustrious make lineds the streets, radiant with glimmering neon lights, shimmering metal signs, and elegant crystal sculptures. It was fantastical; rich in every sense of the word. Sunburst dove down towards one restaurant in particular, to where tables and chairs with notches to allow for Seeker wings had been placed out, and she transformed before landing with the utmost grace. Hawkmoon followed her example, taking pride in the satisfied nod Sunburst gave her after watching her own transformation and subsequent landing.

They picked out a table with two chairs and sat down. Another Seeker ambled over to them, servos clasped in front of his chassis and faceplates offering a polite smile. "Welcome, welcome. How can we serve you?"

"Luna-2's best," Sunburst told him, wings still tilted. Apparently she was higher in standing where the waiter was concerned as well. "Two cubes, that's all."

"That will be-"

"I know." Sunburst nodded. The waiter tilted his head, as if listening to something, then returned to smiling.

"Of course! I'll bring them right out to you, please wait."

He left. Silence reared up in his wake. Hawkmoon fidgeted - and then tried to stop, feeling Sunburst's less than amused gaze on her. Sitting still was hard. She could have done it with a sniper rifle in hand, yes, or sitting in a ditch by the side of a road while waiting for an enemy convoy to trundle by, but this... was not her. She was a Hunter goddammit and everything civilian was a noose tying around her neck.

Not that she needed to breathe anymore. Not since Clovis Bray had stolen her lungs - along with the rest of her.

"Stop," Sunburst scolded. "Act your age."

"I..." Don't know what age I am, Hawkmoon almost said, but she cut herself off with a snap of her denta - almost catching her glossa in the process. She pretended she was outside, in the wilds, where nothing could-

"Here you are." The waiter returned and laid two cubes full of liquid both light blue and a curious shade of pink down onto the table. "Enjoy."

Hawkmoon reached for it, undid the lid, and waited to see if Sunburst had any more instructions. When none were forthcoming, she supped - and brightened her optics out of sheer surprise. The energon had a tang to it, a... tinglier taste. Variation, finally. And given how her internal mechanisms were humming in a delighted fashion, it must have gone well with her intake systems.

She looked at Sunburst. "Thank you. For this, and... everything."

Sunburst offered her an inscrutable look and nothing else. She soon went back to her own cube, content to leave the budding conversation to die on the wayside.

On the fourth orn they flew and flew and flew, all around the city. Sunburst's voice was always there, always whispering into Hawkmoon's audials about the aerial formations they were practicing, the symbolism and histories of said formations, and the practical uses they held in times of peace, exploration, even in life-or-death scenarios. The other Seeker told her all about how differing biomes of Cybertron boasted different elements with impact on flight and how Hawkmoon as a Seeker could tackle each and every one of them, all the while showing her the famous sights of Vos.

They flew past the elegant Citadel where the Vosian princes worked on princely matters, where Vosian Senators on both the local city-state and global councils pushed their agendas, and where ambassadors from the other cities of Cybertron resided. They neared Airbase Arax, supposedly where the Seeker armada during the Quintesson wars had been stationed and where the modern airforce was stationed. They even flew through the Cloud Valley, where scientifically-orientated facilities conducted their forays into the expanses of technology and fought with one another for fame and recognition. It was from that valley much of Cybertron's modern infrastructure had stemmed from, in no small part thanks to the efforts of enlightened Seeker philosophers - or so Sunburst said.

Hawkmoon held to her reservations; it was Cloud Valley that her problems with Cybertron stemmed from. The Vosian Weapons Division was one of said facilities, and one of the leading forces on modern weapons progression too if her guide was to be believed.

::They endured something of a scandal recently, however.:: Sunburst murmured, voice loud and clear through their shared comms channel. ::Apparently, one of their upcoming projects had been sabotaged, with the prototype seized by unknown parties. Some believe it to be the result of corporate vandalism.::

::What about you?:: Hawkmoon carefully asked, trying to smother her worry. ::What do you believe?::

Sunburst went silent - but not for long. ::Iacon is amassing power, moreso now than ever before. Corruption has taken a hold on their "Supreme Council". There are rumours that they may be planning a coup to override the authority of the local councils and assert their dominance over all the lesser governments of Cybertron. Zeta Prime's blatant favouritism hasn't done much to assuage these fears.::

Politics. Never before had it bothered her. Hawkmoon didn't like it, not even a little. ::What did they take? From the Vosian Weapons Division?::

Sunburst slowed and banked to the left - away from Cloud Valley. Hawkmoon followed. They left the gathering of twisting, gangly towers and brutish testing facilities behind. ::The Aperture-Scrambler, I believe. Not a weapon - not exactly, but it can disrupt and even control enemy troop movements in times of war and... something far more nefarious in times of peace.::

::How?::

::Why are you so interested?:: Sunburst shot back.

Hawkmoon rolled through the air, feigning indifference. ::If Iacon is trying something, I guess I want to know what to be careful around in the future, right?::

Sunburst hummed in a dissatisfied manner. ::The device is purported to be capable of disrupting both groundbridge and spacebridge technology.::

::You know a lot about this.:: Hawkmoon pointed out.

::As I said, scandal. The royals were not pleased - with the Weapons Division developing this weapon or losing it. The Division is now under duress - and it's my duty to keep that pressure up.::

::Is that what you do? Are you a... a lawyer?::

Sunburst made a sound not entirely unlike a snort. ::A lawyer? What a ridiculous notion. Me? A lawyer? That is a grounder vocation. No, I am a member of the Vosian Conclave of Speakers. I speak for Vos.::

::I... thought that was the Senators?::

::Who do you think advises the Senators?:: Sunburst asked, obviously amused. ::The Conclave, the reigning Air Commander of the Armada, and the High Prince of Vos. We are the council of this city-state. The laws you obey are of our making. The traditions you invoke are under our protection. The skies you fly through are our domain. Oh, I'm sure you could point at the countless other positions involved in our running of our nation, but we are the dominant three - Conclave, Commander, Prince.::

::Who would these other lesser positioned people be? Enforcers-::

::Along with corporate directors, the aristocracy, and the landed nobility.::

Archaic, Hawkmoon thought, but I suppose we used to do that too. ::Ah. Alright then. What about the Seeker Elites? You said Contrail was... political?::

::He is, and they are. Contrail is working towards a Senatorship, to serve the Institution and Vos at large.::

::That's... admirable.::

::Tell him that.:: Sunburst said. ::When next you see him. I imagine he'll appreciate the support, however meagre.::

Hawkmoon imagined rolling her optics. There wasn't much else she could do. ::I'll be sure to.::

The rest of the first decaorn followed suit; there was more history, more Seeker-centred culture, more flying, and more sightseeing. Hawkmoon started to get a vague idea of how Vos was laid out and where the big important places were, which was probably good? Maybe. Depended entirely on how long she needed to stay - and if it were up to her, then not all that long. Earth awaited.

At the start of the second decaorn Contrail came by to visit. Sunburst called Hawkmoon down to the living room, where both older Seekers were seated and discussing something or other. Hawkmoon only managed to catch the tail-end of the conversation, hearing "... the Prime can't know. He doesn't understand this. He doesn't understand us."

"Maybe not," Contrail said with a shrug, "but he's the Prime."

"Isn't there anything that can be done?" Sunburst whispered.

Contrail paused, optics only briefly darting over to Hawkmoon. "Maybe, maybe not, but... you should know, Alpha Trion is looking elsewhere."

"He is?" Sunburst sounded surprised. "What's the Librarian's plan now?"

"He's taken on a protégé - Orion Pax, I believe he's called."

"Can we reach him?"

Contrail shook his helm. "Trion's keeping close watch. This might not even pan out, but in the event it does..."

"We need to stay with them," Sunburst said with a nod. "Keep ourselves on their side."

"What if Zeta's on their side too?"

"He won't be."

Contrail grimaced. "So be it. I pity the poor mech who has to make history." He gestured for Hawkmoon to join them. She did so, seating herself without a word. "Have either of you heard the racket coming out of Kaon?"

Sunburst raised an optical ridge. "There's always noise where that Pit of a city-state is concerned. Another attempted slave rebellion?"

"Not quite." Contrail leaned forward. "Some gladiator making a scene."

"A scene?"

"Pretty speeches. Often after he's skewered his opponents with a sword."

Sunburst scoffed. "Overly talkative gladiators aren't uncommon. Fame, the cheer of the adoring crowd - it's high-grade energon to them."

"Perhaps. But this one... this one has a way with words..." Contrail dimmed his optics. "Still - he'll be dead before the quartex is out. Where were we?" He glanced at Hawkmoon. "How are your studies coming along?"

"Well," she answered, as honestly as she could. "I'm learning a lot."

"Any memories?"

"No."

"Shame." Contrail looked her over with a frown. "It might not be easy to... Can you give me your ident-codes?" Hawkmoon passed them over with a ping. Contrail nodded his thanks. "I'll get to work on building you an identity-card. I've already set aside a place for you in the next term, but I have to ask: are you sure?"

"I am," Hawkmoon replied. "I've never been more certain in my life."

Contrail exchanged a look with Sunburst. "Then it's settled. Or the basics are. We still have a few things to agree on. Where are you from?"

"I don't-" Hawkmoon started to say.

"Vello," Sunburst cut in. "She's from Vello."

Contrail nodded again. "Frontier settlement, out of the way, little chance of anyone refuting the claim... good, good. Within the borders too, so you won't be singled out as an ab-Seeker."

"Ab-Seeker?" Hawkmoon asked, frowning at the both of them. Were they building her an alibi? That was... much too generous. But still- "What's an ab-Seeker?"

"Slang," Sunburst told her with a roll of her optics. "What the younger Seekers refer to as those sparked outside the graces of Vos."

"Those young Seekers will be her peers," Contrail pointed out. "We need to be prepared. Hawkmoon, you're from the mining settlement of Vello and you've come to Vos proper to join the Energon Seeker Elites. Sunburst is a distant relation, that's why you're staying with her now, and I'm a friend of your creators. Understood?"

"... Understood." Hawkmoon looked between the two. "Thank you. Both of you. I really, really mean it."

Sunburst said nothing. Contrail flashed her a small smile.

AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!