Author's Note: Once again, you've already read the first part of this chapter, but read it again since it's very important.

Chapter 3

Half a stellar cycle after Helm's Deep,

"What in the pit is this slag?" Taratron muttered starring at his laptop terminal. Six months after Helm's Deep, and there were still no traces of the missing Maximals from the battle. The squad leader had no doubt that anyone unaccounted for was now a prisoner of war. Over two dozens of them, male and female, young and old, had been missing. Taratron snarled in disgust. The death of solders was a given, and casualties of war were also inevitable, but the slaughter of the innocent was an act of disgrace.

He stopped and then smiled to himself. Innocence had not died, at least not completely. He saw it every day in the smile of the little girl. She had been with him for all this time, and Taratron had to admit, though rather reluctantly, that he had grown very found of her. Surrounded by soldiers in the army, he couldn't recall the last time he associated with any children. It was very refreshing to get a child's view on the world.

Taratron stretched in his chair and looked at the chronometer. 0346 hours, and he was in need of recharge. He got up and headed for his bedroom. On the way he passed the small room that had been set aside for the girl and decided to check on her. He was expecting to find her sound asleep but instead discovered that her bed was empty. Taratron switched on the lights.

"Isis?"

"Here," a small voice called from the corner. Taratron turned and saw her standing next to the drawers. A few of her things had been removed and piled onto the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing, child?" he frowned and kneeled beside her.

Isis sniffed and wrinkled her nose, giving him her best 'stupid grown-up' look. "What does it look like? I'm running away."

"Oh," not that he was worried that she'd actually leave the military base, but Taratron had no idea how to handle the situation. Something was clearly bothering the child, and he intended to find out what it was. "Isis," he picked up her things and placed them back in the drawers, "why don't we sit down and talk about this?"

She didn't respond, but instead turned her head away from him. Taratron sighed and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of her. This was going to be very difficult. "Why do you want to run away?"

There was silence for a nanoclick, then Isis spoke without turning to face him. "I…I heard the soldiers talking," she said in a quiet voice. "They…were talking about me, and one of them said, 'What were they thinking?' and the other nodded and said, 'This is a military base, not a day care center,'" she sniffed again, whipping her tear stoked face with the back of her hand. "No one wants me here."

Slowly, arms folded around herself, she began to cry. Soft, silent sobs shook he small body. Taratron moved closer and carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Isis tried to pull away, but he held her firmly. Finally she gave in and sobbed into his shoulder as he held her. After a while, the sobs slowed.

"I want you here," Taratron whispered.

Isis pulled back, her crimson optics met his violet gaze. "Really?"

"Of coarse," he nodded. "What do you say we give this another try?" he ran a hand through her long, tangled hair.

The little girl was clearly considering it, but she was not convinced. Feeling that the bots of the army had let her down, she was reluctant to put her trust in them again.

"Come on," Taratron coaxed softly. He reached out and whipped the tears left on her cheeks. "I'll take care of you."

The words left his mouth before he even realized what he was saying. Only after he said them, did Taratron realize the enormous task he was taking on. But he didn't back out. The girl needed someone, and on some level, he felt that he needed her as well.

"You promise?" Isis' voice was full of hope.

"Yes, I promise," Taratron took a deep breath and kissed the top of her head. "After all, that is what families do, is it not? They take care of one another."

"Family? Like a mommy and a daddy?"

Taratron winced; the title 'daddy' didn't appeal to him. "No, like…like a big brother," he corrected. "Have you ever had a brother?" she shook her head. "Well now you do."

Isis smiled, but then rubbed her optics and yawned. It was very late; she was exhausted. Taratron took her in his arms, and she snuggled against him. He moved a stray lock of hair away from her face and rocked her in his arms until she finally fell asleep. He then got up and carried her to the bed, gently placing her down and pulling the warm covers up to her shoulders. Isis shifted in her sleep, trying to get comfortable. Once he was sure she wouldn't wake up again, Taratron turned off the lights and walked out, quietly closing the door behind himself.

"Sleep well, little sister."

* * * * * * * * * *

Three solar cycles later,

To an ordinary bot, the cold metal halls of the military headquarters might have seemed a bit frightening. Every step one took echoed from the walls, bouncing back louder than ever. In truth, there was a certain level of intimidation involved when it was first constructed, and it took a while for the new soldiers to get used to it. Still there was one particular person who was not completely comfortable with the entire setup.

"Why can't we go home yet?" the young girl, little over six stellar cycles of age whined, tugging on the larger hand that she was holding on to.

Never in his wildest dreams did Taratron see himself the guardian of a little Maximal girl at age twenty one. At times he wondered if Isis even needed his protection. There were times when he could have sworn she was capable of taking out an entire squadron single-handedly. Now was not one of those times.

"I told you that I needed to talk to my commander," he told her. "There are some things I need to work out before they let me keep you."

"I'm not a pet!" she voiced her displeasure loudly and folded her arms over her chest, giving Taratron an indignant little pout.

Taratron sighed and picked her up settling her on the ledge that perturbed from the wall so that they were at the same optic level. The tone of voice was not like her. Isis didn't usually whine, which is part of the reason he found it possible to deal with her. Still Tartan had to remind himself that he couldn't treat her like an adult. She was just six stellar cycles old and only six months away from one of the bloodiest battles Cybertyron's moon had ever seen, Helm's Deep.

"I know you don't like it here," he said very slowly, trying to keep his frustration in check, "but I have to make sure they'll let you stay with me."

"Why wouldn't they?" Isis asked rather innocently. "You're my brother."

Feeling the frustration level rise again, Taratron shut off his optic and slowly counted back from ten. Isis took the sibling concept to heart. Not that this was a bad thing, but she didn't understand that they were not related by blood. Simply stating that she was his sister and he her brother, didn't make it so.

"But no one else knows that," he tried explained but before he had a chance to continue he noticed a bot heading in their direction. About the same age as Taratron with a red and black paint job and bright silver optics, the soldier went by the name Darkshadow, or Darsh for short as most other bots called him. Taratron released a low growl.

"So this is why you never show up to party with us guys anymore," Darsh clapped him on the back. "Taratron, what have you been doing?" The bot's voice held an accusative but humorous tone.

"Don't start," Taratron warned him. "It's not what your perverted processor makes it out to look like."

"No? So this isn't your secret love child?" the bot burst into laughter.

Taratron's mild headache exploded into a full blown migraine. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Meanwhile, Isis glanced between her guardian and the new bot in confusion.

"I'm Isis," she tried to be a little helpful. "Taratron is my big brother."

"Is he now, little lady," Darsh was amused. "Are you sure?"

"Yep," the little girl smiled broadly and turned to her guardian. "See? Now one more person knows. Does that help?"

"Immensely," Taratron sighed. "Look, Darkshadow, I'm in a hurry so let us pass."