Author's Note: The second part of this chapter was a flashback in Let Fate Decide as is the first part of Chapter 3 a flashback from In Brotherhood Bound, but I feel it's important to revisit those two places since they are so important to Taratron's relationship with Isis.

Chapter 2

Six stellar cycles later,

So they finally came around to it, Taratron looked up at the moon from the window of the military transport shuttle that took him and a dozen other soldiers to the lunar surface and the site of the largest Predacon attack in the past two decades. The battle scared lunar surface was raped with fire and explosions that Taratron could see from the shuttle. The moon was under siege from the Predacon flagship the Calista. Taratron was told by the Tripredicus Council that it had been hidden behind a large asteroid. It was in stealth mode, and hidden by clocking technology. Once the asteroid's orbit moved it close to Cybertron's moon, the ship attacked. According to the few treaties between the two sides, the moon was Maximal property. Research laboratories covered a large portion of its surface, but it also contained a massive Maximal aerial and interstellar base. The moon was a strategic location for the military outpost and the Predacons wanted it.

Taratron understood that during this battle he would be required to fight and terminate his fellow Predacons. He found the thought very distasteful, but the Tripredicus Council reminded him that he couldn't do anything to jeopardize his position in the Maximal military. It wasn't like he never killed Predacons before. There were many little skirmishes that forced his hand against his brethren, but this battle promised an enormous number of casualties on both sides. Taratron finally turned away from the window and tuned into what his commanding officer, Commander Striker, was saying.

"This is what we've been training for, bots," he pointed out the window. "We will land in Helm's Deep, a civilian settlement near the largest research laboratory on the moon."

"Why is it called Helm's Deep?" someone wondered out loud, and Taratron gave the bot a look. Was there a point to asking stupid questions?

"That's the location's code name," Striker calmly explained. "The name comes from an ancient Earth novel called The Lord of the Rings. Helm's Deep was a refuge that came under attack from over ten thousand enemy forces. It only had a few hundred defenders, but in the end they defeated the enemy. Today we face similar odds and hopefully will have the same outcome."

Taratron raised an eyebrow, thinking it to be extremely foolish that the Maximals would place their hopes of victory in a tale that was written hundreds of stellar cycles ago and by a different civilization altogether. "When we reach the lunar surface," Striker continued. "We will link up with another set of soldiers from a different transport and form a squadron. Based on his excellent performance in the M.T.A. and in real battle, I appoint Taratron as your squad leader. Any and all decisions regarding combat on the battle field will be made by him. So I now place your sparks into his capable hands."

Taratron was mildly surprised by Striker's decision to put him in command. Though he had no doubt he was the best fighter of the soldiers there, he never expected this. A Predacon leading a squadron of Maximals into battle. How ironic.

Upon stepping onto the ground and off the shuttle, Taratron took note of the second shuttle that had just landed. The second half of his team was here. As he watched the Maximals leave the second shuttle, a flash of golden bronze caught his attention. Violet optics flashed with interest as he watched the beautiful figure of the Maximal female walk forward then stop to observe her surroundings. There was no doubt in his mind of the identity of the person that stood before him.

"Ghanima!" he called for her. The young woman turned her head in his direction. Emerald green optics widened as she recognized him. With clear laughter of joy she ran to him, and he caught her in a tight embrace as if they were two best friends reunited after stellar cycles of separation.

She finally pulled back to look him in the optics and smiled. "I remember you. The boy from the truck."

"Boy?" he raised an eyebrow. "I'm twenty one."

"Well not a boy anymore," she continued to smile. "What are you doing here? I didn't know you joined the army too."

"I did," Taratron nodded, "and I'm here to fight, as you are. In fact, since you just stepped of that ship, I am your commanding officer."

"What?" she pulled back from him in surprise.

"It's true, but since it's you, Ghani, you can just call me Taratron."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Forth squadron, navigate to coordinates 23 by 76, in grid Haphestus! Third squadron, coordinates 10 by 27, grid Alpha!" Taratron belted out orders left and right, as he shot the two approaching Predacons. The battlefield was littered with bodies, the dead mixed in with the wounded; cries were heard from both sides. Suddenly, a single heart-wrenching cry filled the air. Taratron whirled, ready to shoot who ever it was. Instead, he found himself face to face with a little girl, staring into the barrel of his gun.

She was barely over four feet tall, her long ocean-blue hair was an untidy mess spread over her shoulders and her face, her crimson red optics glistened with tears, her cloth were a mess. As the girl stared into the barrel of his gun, her expression twisted into a panic pose. Taratron froze. What was this child doing in the middle of a battlefield? He slowly put down the gun and leaned on one knee in front of her.

"Child, this is no place for you. Where is your family?" he placed both hands firmly on her shoulders.

"They…they were killed," the little girl sobbed. "The Predacons killed them." She could not hold it any longer and burst into a new set of fresh tears. Taratron's gut twisted. The girl was a war orphan. He had seen this too many times, parents were killed in the war and their children were left out to die.

"Listen to me very carefully, child," he raised her chin and looked into her tear-filed eyes. First, find a safe place to hide. When this is over, you may come with me and my superiors will find a safe place of you. All right?" the girl nodded. "Good. What is your name, child?"

"Isis. Isis Khmer."

"All right, Isis. Just stay down and hide," he stood up as another wave of Predacons headed their way and began to fire, while the little girl ran behind a large chunk of metal and crouched down, hugging her knees tightly. Hours later, Taratron stood alone on the battlefield surrounded by over three-dozen bodies. He struggled to catch his breath and suddenly remembered about the little girl.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the refugee section of the Maximal military base, Taratron had taken the time to find fresh cloth and a clean bed for the girl. He led her to the room especially set aside for the refugee children. Isis held on tightly to his hand wary of everything around her. The base scared her. It was loud, the air was stiff, and soldiers ran everywhere caring large weapons. Once in a while a group of medics would hurry by with victims lying on stretchers. When they reached the room, Taratron punched a code into the panel and the door opened with a hiss.

"You'll be safe here," he told Isis as they stepped into the room, "the other children here…" he stopped. The room was empty.

"Where are they?" Isis looked up at him questioningly.

"Probably just in a different room," he didn't want to tell her she was the only child survivor. "That just means you get the whole room to yourself, right?" he smiled down at her, and was rewarded with a shaky smile from Isis. Taratron picked her up and settled her on the bed, leaning on one knee so that they were on the same eye level. Once again, he was struck by how sad she looked.

"I have something for you," maybe this would help. Taratron pulled out a brown stuffed teddy bear. The girl's face instantly lit up. During war, toys, especially stuffed animals, were very rare. "I'll be back in a little while," he got up and patted her shoulder. "Will you be okay if I go?" Isis didn't seem to hear him; she was too preoccupied with the teddy bear. Taratron smiled and left the room. He closed the door behind him and looked up at his Commander Striker, who stood outside.

"I checked her records," said Striker. "Her family was killed at Helm's Deep. She's lucky to be alive, while most kids were also killed."

"What will happen to her?"

"Hard to say. She'll probably end up staying here until someone would adopt her. I trust you'll keep track of her?" Taratron nodded thoughtfully. "Then I'll leave you to it. Don't worry, I expect she'll only be here for a few solar cycles."