Chapter 15

"Raptor"

"'Stream, you can't-"

"Stupid fragging rules." Slipstream bit out a dozen more Cybertronian curses - only half of which Hawkmoon even knew - and directed them all towards the same thing, shot over her shoulder to the receding building in the distance behind them - to the Institution they'd only just left behind. They were currently somewhere on Vos's ground level, a pedestrianized shopping district full of neon lights and enticing digital displays, all vying for their attention and shanix. "There's no reason I can't fly! They have no right to take my wings from me!"

"No one's taking your wings," Cyberwarp reasoned. "There's got to be something we can-"

"Something we can do?" Slipstream shook her helm, almost violently. "Those walking scrapheaps have the last say," she muttered darkly. "What in the Pit can I do about that?" She vented a deep sigh. "My creators aren't going to be happy. This... this was my chance."

"There's always next vorn," Nacelle suggested.

Slipstream stopped, slowly turned around and looked at him. "Right. I'll... I'll clean myself for the next semester. No more high-grade, no more... no more red energon boosters."

"Exactly."

"We'll try again next vorn and show those aftpipes that we can fly," Slipstream continued.

Cyberwarp balked. "'Us'?"

"Yeah, us. Why?"

"'Stream, I can't... I can't pull out now. My creators can't afford another entry-fee. We're not... we're not wealthy like you are."

"'Warp, don't-"

"I can't," Cyberwarp stressed, taking a step back. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

Something flashed across Slipstream's faceplates - something that reminded Hawkmoon of deep-seated distaste and genuine hurt all mixed together into one nasty broth. "That's fine," she snapped. "It only takes three to make a trine."

"Wha..." Cyberwarp's optics blinked in confused surprise - with a painful sort of unprepared shock to boot.

"We'll do without," Slipstream coldly went on. "Nacelle, Hawk-"

"I've sacrificed too much to get this far," Hawkmoon quietly said. "I'm not wasting all that effort - not for you."

"Look, guys," Nacelle jumped in, automatically trying to mend things over, even if his faceplates screamed furious. He'd obviously never seen a relationship unravel this kind of way before. Hawkmoon had, though. She barely known Slipstream for two orns, but this... this was familiar. "I get that we're all upset, but let's take a moment to take stock and try to-"

"Forget it," Slipstream bit out. She stepped away and flared out her wings. "Traitors, the lot of you." And, just like that, she boosted into the air on her thrusters and soared away.

Well then. That was that.

"Very mature," Hawkmoon murmured - mostly to herself. Nacelle spared her a strained look, and Cyberwarp ducked her helm. "Will she be back?"

"She'll be back," Nacelle tiredly confirmed. He walked on ahead. "But there's no point waiting for her."

"But... she actually..." Cyberwarp shook her helm. "I thought... Primus above, I never thought she'd threaten that."

"C'mon," Nacelle urged them. "Before she comes to have another jab at us. Slipstream just... she needs time to cool off."

The energon they bought from a semi-busy booth wasn't high-grade, just mid-. What had originally been something ecstatic, fun, something to take the edge off the realization that she was suddenly in a whole lot more danger than she'd originally thought, quickly turned bitter and unpleasant. Slipstream had left them in shambles, pretty much. Nacelle became withdrawn, Cyberwarp oversensitive and not a little upset, and Hawkmoon was simply unsympathetic towards the errant Seeker's little tantrum. The nerve of her! To demand that three other people pull out of the Vosian Exploratory Institute, something that had been stressed to them all time again to be a blessing and an honour, just to wait for her while she cleaned herself out of bad habits, and then threatened her 'friends' when they declined.

Slipstream, who Hawkmoon had grown to like a little, quickly became one of many bastards to leave forgotten on the wayside. There was nothing else to be done; there was nothing else she wanted to do about it. Honestly - what an ass.

Still - maybe there was something to salvage. Nacelle certainly thought so, because he led them on to another sector of the shopping district, and though he said little, what he did vocalize was the height of decency and consideration. "Paint parlour," he announced before yet another open-door establishment. "Any interest?"

"I might, actually," Cyberwarp said, softly and subdued.

Hawkmoon, taking a metaphorical breath, nodded along and said, "Yeah, I need a top-up. I mean... look at me."

Nacelle vented a chuckle. "You're a little... a little worn, but, uh-"

"You're pretty fine," Cyberwarp offered, opening up a little.

There it was. Fantastic.

"Thank you," Hawkmoon replied, smiling gratefully. "Although..."

"Although?"

"Just thinking, now... would they do commissions here? Decals? Something... unique."

"Have anything in mind?" Nacelle questioned.

Hawkmoon shrugged. "Some. It'll probably put a dent in my shanix - but hey, worth."

Cyberwarp snickered. "Worth?"

"Worth," Hawkmoon confirmed. "Anything for you?"

The other femme shrugged, pauldrons riding up and down over her shoulders. "A colour change, and then maybe some particulars of my own. What are you going for?"

Hawkmoon grinned. "Something striking, and... fitting. You'll see. What about you, Nacelle?"

The mech pondered the question. "I don't know. Maybe. Go on; I'll wait, see if I can't come up with anything."

Hawkmoon came out in a refurbished teal, with dark patterned feathers adorning her plating, iridescent where the light hit them at certain angles. It felt right. More than right; it felt truly proper. It had put more than a simple dent into her funds, being the change handed over by Phosphora for spare energon and the much more significant booster Sunburst had given her before their parting, but it was worth it. The feathers ran down her chassis, over her legs, her arms, and even her four wings - both the dominant pair and the two somewhat smaller rudder-like implements. Her actual dents had been buffed over as well, and her various plates polished to finish off. The paint-parlour's staff had been pleasant and helpful - more than she'd expected, and they'd seemingly taken some pleasure in working over her frame.

The icing on the cake had been when they brought up a mirror to show her. It was the first time Hawkmoon finally got a genuinely clear look at herself, and...

It wasn't bad.

Genuinely. It wasn't horrible. It wasn't her either, it never would be, she was human, but then... it had been the same with her Exomind body, hadn't it? No, despite the lack of flesh, the lack of familiar, natural features, this wasn't bad. And... in some ways... it was her.

Plus, she finally discovered what colour her optics were. Purple. They were purple. A sharp, vibrant violet - like Void. Now that was nice.

Cyberwarp followed her out, clad in different colours entirely. Her blue was a deeper, brighter sort than Hawkmoon's own, and her bulkier plating was gilded with a luminous shade of yellow - particularly at her pauldrons, kneeguards, faulds and at the edges of her cuirass. Her wings were largely the same, a deep navy, and stuck out from her back as thin blades as opposed to Hawkmoon's wider, more elegant gliders. Cyberwarp's altmode was in truth more thruster than actual wings anyways, so... yeah.

Hawkmoon looked around. Nacelle was there, his own frame sheening more than usual - though little had changed. A top-up where his light- and dark-green paintjob was concerned, nothing else. He was, however, standing opposite an irate-looking Slipstream - who looked borderline murderous.

"-'re not dragging us down with you," Nacelle snapped with unexpected vehemence. "No, 'Stream, I don't give a frag. Not anymore. You're a conniving, controlling, self-centred scrap-head."

"I was your friend," Slipstream shot back. She sounded hurt.

"And Cyberwarp was yours, but then you decided to threaten her!"

Cyberwarp stiffened. Hawkmoon made to move in front of her, to keep her out of the fight, but the other femme marched right past, right ahead and said, "You did this to yourself. I told you to keep off the red energon-tracers, but you... you kept going."

"Don't get all-" Slipstream started to sneer, but Cyberwarp cut her off.

"No. 'Stream, no. We are done. I want to help- I wanted to help you, but you made this your mess. I can't waste this chance. I have to do something for myself. You're not dragging me down with you." Cyberwarp took one step back, then another, and another, and another. "We're done. Leave us alone."

"You can't-"

"We're done," Nacelle interrupted. "You can't turn on us when you ruin yourself. It's not fair. It's not right."

Slipstream glared at them, each in turn, and flew off. The moment she was gone, out of sight, Cyberwarp sagged and leaned against Hawkmoon. Nacelle didn't look much better.

"Scrap," he whispered.

"Scrap," Cyberwarp agreed. She sounded like she was very, very close to tears. Or to hitting something. Either way, not good.

Hawkmoon vented in an approximation of a clearing throat. "I don't... Look, I'm sorry about this."

"Not your fault," Cyberwarp mumbled, nudging her.

"I don't want to impose, or... cause trouble."

"Not you," Nacelle tiredly told her. "'Stream was getting... difficult, anyways. She was okay when everything was fine, but... the stress of the Institute was making her unpleasant." He forced himself to perk up. "Maybe we should head back. I think we're hitting the emergency drills tomorrow."

"This orn went so well," Cyberwarp glumly whispered to herself.

Hawkmoon, on instinct, nudged her and clasped her pauldron. It was as close she could get to wrapping an arm around the other femme's shoulders, what with all the natural armour in the way. "You doing okay?"

"No." Cyberwarp sighed. "This... I wish today could have gone differently."

"So do I."

Nacelle grunted. "There's not much..." He vented loudly, grimaced and looked their way. "Look, I think I'm going to head back. Maybe we can try to celebrate another orn. Just... not today. I'll see you two later."

Cyberwarp quietly nodded. She glanced at Hawkmoon. "Are you going too?"

Hawkmoon shrugged. "I don't know. Anything you want to do?"

"I... I'd like to take a walk, actually. To work off the..." Cyberwarp trailed off and hesitated. "Come with me?" she asked.

Hawkmoon smiled - softly, in a manner she hoped was approaching supportive. "Of course."

They walked and talked through the lower levels of Vos, gossiped about the most inane of things, took a gander at all the flashing storefronts trailing past and generally tried to salvage what was left of the night's good cheer. A challenge, certainly, but Hawkmoon gave it her all; her spark thrummed pleasantly when she cornered Cyberwarp with a sleek trap of snarky comments and clever little remarks, finally managing to extract another smile with a flourishingly crude joke about one of their flight instructors. Soon enough the other Seeker was joining in, passing on a few little observations of her own regarding some of their peers.

It felt good to laugh. There hadn't been enough of that, Hawkmoon decided. She'd missed it.

"I can hardly wait," Cyberwarp finally declared, angling her optics up towards the star-studded sky above. "We're... we're really going up there, blazing a trail through the universe... Retreading the hyperlanes of the old empire, walking over the worlds we once ruled..."

Carving a way home, Hawkmoon mused. Getting back to Sol. Killing that Worm. "I feel the same."

They grabbed another pair of mid-grade energon cubes from a nearby oilhouse, laughing at some Hawkmoon... no, Cyberwarp... no, wait, it was...

It really didn't matter.

"Getting overcharged," Hawkmoon breathed. Or tried to - her phantom lungs screamed for air, screamed to expand and draw in oxygen, but they weren't there they weren't there they weren't there.

Cyberwarp leaned against her. They'd stopped walking, sidled by the edge of the street to allow the rest of the foot traffic - some grounders, mostly strolling Seekers - continue on unabated. The sensation, even of metal brushing against metal, was nice. These pressure-sensors were incredible.

What wasn't was the other strange sensor she still hadn't fully figured out, all sparking and fizzling, intersecting with the presence of another. Of Cyberwarp; Hawkmoon could almost taste her aura, her emotion, her feelings. It was... strange. Alien. But... wonderful.

"Your field's weird," Cyberwarp murmured, voicebox tinged with something... not slurred, no, probably the other end of that spectrum, but hyper didn't sound right either. "It's other. You have different programming in Vello?"

Hawkmoon shrugged. Or tried to. She took a sip of her cube, just enough to keep her on that razor edge, and hummed. "Want me to pull it in?"

"No, it's... No."

She was glad for that. It felt... strangely nice.

Then her servo-sensors flashed, a tiny pinprick of pain and the gaping absence of the cube's weight, and Hawkmoon's helm snapped around. Crystal hit the pavement and shattered apart, energon spilling onto the ground, and...

A bird, optics shining her way, warily dipped its metal beak into the puddle and quickly lapped at the wasted fuel. Hawkmoon shifted with surprise, and the animal flinched, its steel feathers fluttering and standing on end. It inched back, afraid.

"What-" Cyberwarp peered around. "Oh."

"Symbiote," Hawkmoon dumbly stated.

"Feral," Cyberwarp added. "Oh, there. Look at its wing."

Hawkmoon did. The limb hung limply at its side and trailed over the ground, while the other was folded tightly against its body. What was most remarkable, though, was how familiar it looked. A robot version, yeah, but it otherwise resembled an Earthborn bird. Convergent evolution, she might have said, but when did robots evolve in the first place? The animal, the symbiote, looked like a crow - no, wait, more like those avians in the Awoken story books, the ones preserved by families with ties to first-generation Earthborn pilgrims. The gene-spliced crow-eagles, the symbolic hunting birds taken as inspiration for the Reef's entire espionage network. Extinct in all but Awoken memory, she recalled.

But not here. Not now. Not when a false metal effigy of that same memory stood before her, cowering, starving, injured and tearing into the concrete pavement below with sharp silvered claws - clenching its talons in anxiousness, optics glaring daggers. The symbiote was large enough for an animal, enough that its rending claws could have almost curled around her forearm if it were to perch there. Its black-painted feathers twitched and shook warningly, sheening beak snapping in her direction.

"Let's go," Cyberwarp urged her, pulling at her elbow. "We shouldn't risk our optics."

"No, wait." Hawkmoon slowly, so slowly, crouched down. Not quite level, but close enough. "Can you... are you the talking kind?"

No answer. The crow-eagle just watched her with wary hostility, optics flashing with a dangerous sort of intelligence pressed to desperation. It hungered. It was on the brink. Nothing was more dangerous than a starving beast backed into a corner.

"Guess not." There was a spark of... something in its optics, something more than crude animal instinct, but its silence spoke volumes by itself. "'Warp?"

"Yeah?"

"What'll happen to this guy if we just leave?"

Cyberwarp gave an uncomfortable shrug, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "Offline, probably."

The crow-eagle's optics shone with alarm - and a challenge, as if daring them to try and expedite that outcome.

"Thought so," Hawkmoon murmured. "What's the Institute's take on symbiotes?"

"Wait, you're not really-"

Hawkmoon crashed her elbow joint against the door, her servos being a tad full, and Cyberwarp inched past to key in the entry-codes to the medical wing. A buzzer by the terminal hissed and spat, before asking, "What do you want?"

"Red Light," Hawkmoon gasped out. Ow ow ow.

"He's not here. His assistant-"

"Yes, her! Minerva!"

Whoever was on the other end sighed. "I'll contact her. You can go through."

The door slid open. Hawkmoon and Cyberwarp rushed through, past the surprised attendant on the other side of the door, through the deserted medical wing and directly to where Hawkmoon recalled Red Light's office being. There were three mecha talking inside, one of them being Minerva, and the medical student tiredly glanced up as they rushed in. "Do you know how late it i- Wait. Hawkmoon, what are you-"

"Can you help?" Hawkmoon hissed out through gritted denta.

"Your... your servos!" One of the other Seekers exclaimed in muted horror. "That animal!"

"'Scream, shut up," the last of the trio snapped, shooting the other mech a hard look and pushing them both aside, out of the way.

Minerva marched past the two of them, looking first Hawkmoon and then the wrangled symbiote up and down. "On that table," she ordered in a strained, neutral tone, gesturing to the surgery theatre alongside the office. She ushered them towards the central berth inside.

Hawkmoon almost threw the struggling symbiote onto the platform, digits clenching tight to keep it from struggling out of her grip and lashing out with its claws. Hadn't saved her from the beak, though; energon was leaking from around her knuckles and the back of her servos from where the hooked end had carved right through the steel. Cyberwarp rushed around, clasping the hysterical bird's head and holding it down. Minerva joined them not a moment later, one of her servos transforming into a taser-stunner thing not unlike the one Nightbeat had used, much to Hawkmoon's dismay, and shocked the poor creature on the spot.

Hawkmoon cautiously let go, but the bird had slumped over - out cold. Cyberwarp released her own grip, and they looked at each other - sharing a relieved sigh.

"By Primus!" Minerva turned on them. "What in the Pit is this?"

"Stray," Cyberwarp offered.

"A stray," Minerva slowly repeated. "You... just picked up a stray? What the scrap is wrong with you?!"

"It was my idea," Hawkmoon explained with a grimace, cradling her servos. "Poor thing has a broken wing. Didn't feel right to just leave it."

"So you brought it here." Minerva grumbled. She brought her servo to her helm, as if to massage her forehead. "My shift is over. You're lucky I was still around. And... oh, fine." Minerva approached, took Hawkmoon's servos into her own and looked them over. "You've mangled yourself."

"Now that's an exaggeration, and you know it."

"Two minor energon lines have been cut. Your plating's broken through in a dozen places. Yes, Hawkmoon, you've been mangled."

Hawkmoon offlined her optics. "Can you fix it?"

"Don't have a choice, do I?" Minerva looked Cyberwarp's way. "What about you? Any damage?"

Cyberwarp shook her helm. "I'm fine. 'Moon did most of the work."

"Why didn't you try to talk her out of it?"

"Because... I thought..."

"Can you help the little guy?" Hawkmoon pressed.

Minerva gave her a stern look. "I can..."

"Will you?"

"Might as well, now that it's here. But..." Minerva made a face. "Broken wings aren't so easy to repair. It'll need to keep off the streets, and we don't have anywhere to put it. Even if we give it a cast and a nanite boost, it'll still die out there."

"I'll take care of it," Hawkmoon instantly decided.

"You?" Minerva grunted, unamused. "You have studies to focus on."

"I can help," Cyberwarp offered. "We're..."

"You're what?"

Cyberwarp, though, was looking at Hawkmoon - intently, hesitantly, and finally with resolve. "'Steam's out. She-"

"I know," Hawkmoon said quickly. "You don't have to-"

"No, not about that. I'll... deal with myself however, but... there's a vacancy open. She, Nacelle and I were going to, uh, form a temporary trine for... and, uh... it's open to you instead, if you want."

Hawkmoon paused. Trine.

Trine.

"Not the real thing," she affirmed. Cyberwarp quickly nodded. "I'm not ready for anything like that."

"Of course not."

"... I'll think about it," Hawkmoon said at length.

Minerva vented deeply. "If you're done..."

"Sorry," Cyberwarp sheepishly replied.

Minerva tapped Hawkmoon's palms. "The good news is that the damage isn't deep. I'll have to do some soldering and your self-repair will do the rest. Your symbiote, though, will take a little longer. I may even have to recast a joint or two, and replace some sensor-panels. That's not an easy process."

"I'll pay," Hawkmoon offered.

"That's not the issue. I mean you'll have to bring it..." Minerva sighed. "Fine. I'll give you a call for an appointment on a semi-regular basis, right? But it'll have to be late into the orn like this. I've got my own work and studies to get through. Do you have my comm-codes?" When Hawkmoon shook her head, Minvera went on. "I'll give them to you."

"Thank you."

Minerva ignored her, turning instead to the doorway back into the office. "Thundercracker?"

One of the two mechs leaned his helm in. "Yeah?"

"There's a soldering kit under the desk, third shelf from the top. Get it for me."

"Fine." Thundercracker turned back inside. "Starscream, stay... No. Just... Yes, that." He reappeared, handed over the kit and gave Hawkmoon a piercing look. She returned it. Finally, he asked, "Was it worth it?"

Hawkmoon hesitated, then shrugged. "It's a life," she reasoned. "When is that not enough?"

Thunderwalker appraised her with sharpened optics. "You're not from here."

More than you know, she mused. Hawkmoon clenched her denta as Minerva went to work, the torch searing into her sensors with merciless heat. She glanced the way of Cyberwarp first, who was watching over the procedure with concern, and then to the slumbering crow-eagle.

Yeah. Yeah, it was worth it.

AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!