Blood Tears

by EnchantedRealmsFiction

G1, AU. Ultra Magnus comes across a Femme that he can't seem to keep a hold of.

'At'prafen looked at the hatch above her. Above her was the entry point to several supplies that she and her siblings needed to survive, especially now. At least, her mother had told her that the supplies were there.

Something's not right about this . . .

What's wrong, Fen?

Nothing I can't handle, Ren . . .

You're sensing trouble, aren't you? he accused.

'At'prafen winced. She hated it when he pegged her like that and she didn't want him to.

Yes, I am. But I'll be fine. In and out. Just make sure you're standing by to receive everything, okay?

Fen . . .

No arguments! she snapped. I'll be fine!

All right, he sighed reluctantly. Just stay in touch. Got it?

I always do, she replied. Slowly, she opened the hatch and climbed through.

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"So when is this raid suppose to take place?"

Neo glanced over at his partner, Crosswise, a slight smirk crossing his lips. Crosswise wasn't his usual partner, but, for this mission, the slender teal blue and red scientist was an ideal match to Neo's more seasoned infiltration abilities.

"Twenty-first hour, tomorrow," Neo replied quietly. "Got the dummy package?"

"Right here," Crosswise confirmed, unsubspacing a nondescript silver box the size of his hand. Neo nodded, watching carefully as Crosswise slipped the package between two crates, rotating it into position so that the pressure sensitive switch lay nestled against the forward crate. The minute it was moved, the package would erupt in a cloud of noxious gasses . . . and leave a very important message for Elita and her band of Femmes.

"Perfect. Now let's get out of here. I don't know about you, but I can think of about . . ."

Neo trailed off suddenly, whirling around in a tight circle, his pulse rifle leaping into his charcoal grey hand.

"Neo?"

"Shh!" Neo shot back over his shoulder, gesturing his partner to silence. With a few quick hand signals, he directed Crosswise around a stack of crates, intending to flank whoever was intruding on their little mission. Neo himself crept forward slowly, watching his partner creep around to the far side of the crates with his own weapon drawn.

Neo couldn't make himself feel too surprised when he saw a Femme crouching next to a large crate of medical supplies. What did surprise him was the lack of a sigil on her.

"All right, hold it right there."

Surprised, the Femme looked at him and immediately jumped up. In one hand, she held a long, slender rod. The other was empty. She watched him warily, as if debating her next move.

"Just relax and drop that . . . thing and no one gets hurt."

Slowly, she started to set the rod down in front of her but, with a quick flick of her wrist, it landed on the crate. Once it was out of her hand, she ran straight towards him. Quickly he raised his rifle and aimed at her, but there was a flash of light that blinded him momentarily, stopping him from firing. His optics adjusted quickly, but she was already knocked down, caught by a stun blast from Crosswise. Neo flashed his partner a grateful smile as he approached the fallen Femme.

She wasn't very tall for a Femme, much more petite than the ones in Elita's band. Had he not known better, he would've sworn it was Firestar at first glance. She had fallen gracelessly, in a heap on her hands and knees. Careful of her reaction, he nudged her onto her back, silently noting the lack of a helmet and her lack of a sigil. Still, there was no denying that she was of Autobot construction. However, the smudges of oil and Primus knew what else spoke of a life not lived entirely within the bounds of Imperial law.

As he crouched down beside her, rifle cradled across his knees, he noticed a certain stillness to her. He reached out to touch her cheek, strengthening his rapport with her mind. Again, that sense of a purposeful stillness amidst the stream of consciousness that flowed around him.

"She out? Or just playing?"

"She's not going anywhere except with us, if that's what you mean," Neo replied calmly. He let his fingers trail along the curves of her flank before breaking all mental contact with her. She was aware enough to present a problem if she wanted to. On the other hand, she was outnumbered and outclassed.

She twitched, giving up on her bluff in an attempt to shake off the effects of the stun blast. Neo allowed himself a small smile as he slipped his hand around her throat. Optics flared online in panic, but she froze.

"Good girl. Now, you can come quietly, or I'll knock you out right here. Either way, you're leaving with us, get me?"

She stared at him, wide-opticked. After a moment, she nodded slowly.

"Good. Crosswise . . ."

His partner snorted softly in disgust, but kept his gun leveled at the young Femme. Neo slid his hand down her body, and then locked his grip around her elbow. Subspacing his rifle, he stood slowly, pulling her to her feet in the process. Standing, it was even more apparent how tiny she was . . . and how dirty. The faded red of her arm looked out of place against the shimmering clean charcoal grey of Neo's arm. Slowly, testing her response, he relaxed his grip on her elbow.

The moment he relaxed his grip, she immediately lashed out, a last ditch effort to get away, but Crossfire's earlier blast still had an effect on her. She stumbled some, nearly falling head first into the side of a nearby crate. A bolt of pale blue energy arched between Crossfire and the young Femme, and this time there was no question that she was knocked offline.

"Was that as fun for you as it was for me?" Crosswise asked, the smirk clear in his tone despite his facemask.

"Shut up, Crosswise, and just get moving. Unless you want to carry her all the way back to base?"

Crosswise hissed briefly, then turned on a heel and stalked out of the warehouse. Neo followed, easily carrying the petite Femme. From the shape of her, he doubted she was one of Elita's band. Which meant searching the database. Fortunately, he was likely to have plenty of opportunity while she was in First Aid's care.

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'At'pren stalked away from the makeshift command center, angry with his twin and angry with himself.

Dammit! Why did I listen to her about that? Why didn't she listen to me when I told her to get out?

His anger had propelled him far from the command center and away from his two younger siblings to a quieter section of their living area. Without even realizing it, the dark blue Mech began to repeatedly slam his fists into a nearby wall.

"What's happened?"

The voice that spoke had a gruffness to it, but there was no denying the gentleness in its tone. However, it didn't stop 'At'pren from whirling around in surprise, his anger still growing.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," he growled.

"Sorry," the voice commented.

'At'pren sighed. He hadn't meant to snap like that. But he still wasn't use to the extra addition to their tightly knitted group.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that. I'm normally . . ."

"I know," the other Mech murmured, stepping into the room more.

"What do you want?"

"To know what's wrong. I heard you slamming your fists into the wall."

'At'pren sighed again and shook his head.

"'At'prafen got caught. I tried to get her to use the transporter to get out but she insisted that she could get out on her own."

"She still has the transporter. She could . . ."

"No, she doesn't have the transporter," 'At'pren interrupted. "She had me hit the destruct key here. She didn't want anyone to get it and find us."

The Mech sighed. "I take it you two are blocked then."

'At'pren nodded somberly. "Yeah. The transporter's destruction was supposed to cover her escape some but it backfired. Someone had a stun gun and blasted her with it after it disintegrated. That's when I lost contact with her."

"All right then . . ." The other Mech became thoughtful. "Send Silverstreak to tap into their net. He's only to find out where she's being held then he's to get out and away as quickly as possible. Goldstar can man the command center for a while. You . . . Take a rest."

"But . . ." 'At'pren objected.

"No buts," he rumbled. "You need to cool down and get some rest until your sister establishes the link with you again. Got it?"

'At'pren glared at him for a long time before he finally gave in and sighed. He hated being ordered around like this, even by his twin, but he also knew that the old Mech in front of him could be and was just as stubborn as he was. And violent. He had heard the stories.

"Got it," he mumbled.

"Good. Anything else?" the Mech asked.

"Yeah . . . The two Mechs that caught her were setting up a trap of some kind for Elita's raiding party tomorrow. They know the time and everything . . . Mom's suppose to be in that raiding party . . ."

"All right then. Get some rest," the Mech ordered, turning to go.

"Dad . . ."

"What?"

"Where are you going?" 'At'pren inquired, a bit amused for some reason he couldn't quite explain.

"To inform your mother of what's happened," Ironhide stated calmly.

"You think she'll care?"

"If she doesn't, she soon will."

With that, Ironhide was gone.

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Ultra Magnus sat in his office, reviewing Neo's mission report. He did not like what he was reading. Neo was unable to confirm his suspicions, but the telepath was certain that this Femme's mind was linked to another's. And that meant the mission was compromised.

Dealing with Elita was so much easier when Prime was still . . . absent. And now it is entirely possible she will call off her raid. A shame, considering all the effort I expended in substituting my message for her in place of Prime's original package.

Annoyed with the waste of resources, Ultra Magnus tossed the report on a stack of similar reports. Elita's band of thieves was becoming more trouble than they were worth. As much as he enjoyed the irritation they inspired in Optimus Prime, he found scant humour in the inevitable beatings and deaths that tended to follow the more successful raids. Contrary to the Lord Prime's belief, not all warriors were easily replaced.

888888888

First Aid wiped a last smudge of grease from the young Femme's cheek, nodding to himself in satisfaction. She had, as predicted, cleaned up rather well. Given her surprisingly good medical condition, he couldn't help but wonder if the layers of grime were not, in fact, a clever disguise. The same thought had occurred to Neo as well; the special operative was searching the vast Autobot databases, trying to find out who she was.

Watching her from the corner of his visual range, First Aid wiped off his own hands then set about cleaning up his repair ward. As it was a fairly mindless task, however, he quickly found himself comparing this captured Femme to another who had been in his care several orn past. This one was definitely shorter, lighter, with a ground vehicle transformation instead of Starchaser's aerospace mode. And unlike Starchaser, this Femme had been brought to him unconscious, captured here on Cybertron, not in some distant raid. He doubted she truly rated his care, either as a prisoner or as a free Autobot, but he could understand why she was here. As much as Neo tried to pretend he had no time for or interest in Femmes, it didn't take a telepath to know what his interest in this Femme was based upon.

As he finished cleaning up, First Aid heard her sigh softly and start to stir. In a matter of seconds, she was awake and struggling against the stasis field, but, other than her sigh, he heard no sound coming from her. Frowning to himself, he approached her.

The moment he approached her, she stopped struggling and looked at him, her optics bright blue and wild. He got the distinct impression that she was like a wild animal, caged for the first time in her life. First Aid regarded her for a moment, wondering why she wasn't screaming or making demands at being restrained so.

"It's all right," he soothed gently, checking the status of the stasis field holding her in place. The field was holding, but the strain she was placing on her own systems was worrisome. At the same time, he was not prepared to remove the field without someone available to keep her from escaping.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a medic, First Aid. What's your name?"

She just stared at him but her expression was not blank. Yet, it wasn't defiant. It was simply . . . a stare.

"Crosswise, get in here."

First Aid glanced over as the door whooshed open but instead of the scientist, the dusky blue bulk of Variance filled the doorway. First Aid allowed himself another frown behind his facemask.

"Crosswise was called away," the tactician murmured as he crossed the room.

"Fine. Just watch that she doesn't get past you."

With a flick of his wrist, Variance armed himself. First Aid suppressed a sigh then dialed down the stasis field until it was deactivated. Then he shunted in his own stun gun.

In a flash, the Femme was off the bed and on the opposite side away from them. Carefully, she watched them, as if searching for some kind of opening or weakness.

"And you released her because?"

"Because I can't sedate her through the field."

Variance looked ready to make some snippy reply when the doors hissed open again. A dark shadow seemed to descend on the room. Only one person could create such an effect without saying a word: Lord Magnus. First Aid felt a brief sense of relief; there was no way she could get past the warlord. Then something like anxious dread settled into his systems. If Lord Magnus was here, then there was something about this Femme that had attracted his attention. And that something was unlikely to bode well for the Femme or First Aid himself.

"Is this the Femme that Neo and Crosswise captured?"

"Yes, my lord," First Aid replied, still keeping an optic on her.

She was watching the three of them warily but with some form of interest. First Aid, however, was fairly certain that she hadn't given up thoughts on escape. The girl was simply too feral.

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Ultra Magnus studied the petite Femme cowering in a corner of First Aid's medical ward. She was, as Neo had reported, obviously a feral scrap of a spitfire. More she almost looked familiar. He quickly dismissed that thought, however; he would have remembered such a remarkable Femme . . . if he had even let her out of his possession in the first place.

"It is all right, my dear," he murmured gently, offering his hand to her. She stared at his outstretched hand, azure optics filled with suspicion. For a moment, he suspected she would rather bite him than take his hand. Then she slowly started to edge closer to him.

"That's right . . . I won't hurt you," he encouraged, allowing a smile to grace his face. She continued to edge closer, her gaze clearly darting between himself and Variance and First Aid's weapons. Then her optics narrowed in on Variance. Magnus risked glancing over at his two officers, nodding ever so slightly when he noticed First Aid had disarmed himself. With his other hand, he made a slight gesture at Variance. The tactician's optics narrowed slightly, but he complied with Magnus's order and stepped away from the door.

She paused at the far edge of the medical berth, obviously reluctant to leave what little protection it offered. He stepped forward slightly and she immediately skittered back, thunking hollowly against the wall.

"Easy . . . it's all right, my dear. I won't hurt you," he murmured gently, beckoning her slightly with his outstretched hand. Still, her pale blue optics regarded him with obvious suspicion and intelligence. Her continued silence was almost eerie given the intelligence he was reading in her. She glanced back at Variance then focused on his hand. He could see her gather herself then she stepped forward slowly. Hesitantly, she reached out to slip her hand into his, but he could tell she still didn't trust him. He smiled warmly, closing his hand around hers and slowly drawing her closer.

He could feel her body tensing as he drew her closer. Still, he continued to draw her closer until she was standing at his side. The closeness only emphasized how very tiny she was . . . and how faded and careworn. Perhaps she would be willing to let me help her with that, he mused to himself. An unfortunate shame that such a lovely Femme hasn't been able to keep up on her appearance.

The moment she was next to him, she looked up, her optics searching for some hint as to what he meant to do with her next. It was then that he noticed a scar the length of his index finger on her left cheek.

"Come," he said gently, "let's get the rest of you cleaned up. And perhaps then you can tell me your name and where you came from, yes?"

She blinked some and slowly shook her head 'no', amusement dancing in her optics.

"No?" he asked, amusement seeping into his tone. "Well, perhaps I will have to coax it out of you. As lovely as you are, you must have a beautiful name," he continued, his free hand reaching down to lightly trace the line of her jaw. She nearly flinched when he reached to touch her but she held her ground and didn't move. Yet, there was no trace of defiance in her. Just a quiet mistrust, a questioning of his motives. Smart girl, he praised silently, keep that mistrust. I will still find out what I wish to know.

888888888

What is his game? Why does he want to know about me? 'At'prafen wondered as she looked up at the tall Mech next to her. And what does he mean by getting the rest of me cleaned up?

"Come," he repeated, gently drawing her towards the door.

Whoever he is, he's taller than what Dad is, 'At'prafen noted. And stronger, too. Maybe I should've pried more information out of him and Mother when I had the chance.

'At'prafen allowed the Mech to lead her out, and she took a keen interest in her surroundings. Maybe I can figure out where I am so I can get out and get back home.

Dark corridors lit indirectly combined with armed guards at irregular intervals created an air of menacing power. Aside from the guards, the halls were mostly empty; wherever she was, it wasn't open to the general public.

The guards straightened to attention as they walked down the corridors. A pair flanking a door saluted crisply, their fists thumping on their chest-plates as one. Her escort nodded, drawing her through the door. She could barely believe her optics at what lay beyond.

In a word, the apartment was opulent. The warm light from several dozen oil lamps shimmered off the dark lacquered surfaces of a desk and a matching low table. The collection of chairs and even a couch had a duller shine to them, a softer texture. Exotic pieces unlike anything she had seen before were scattered about the room, all in rich, vibrant colours. Plants, wall hangings, sculptures, all in stark contrast to the militant minimalism of the corridor beyond. She could hear running water trickling softly somewhere further in the apartment, a sound alien to her experiences, as this water sounded intentional, not like the leaking drips of rusting pipes.

The Mech who had brought her here released her, striding across the room swiftly to access the computer terminal on the desk. She watched him for a moment, the way he moved like one accustomed to power. She glanced around the room again, curious to know what lay down the hall.

'At'prafen cast a quick glance at the Mech before slowly and quietly making her way towards the hall. If anything, she told herself, she'd be able to find a way out.

'At'pren must be going out of his mind, she thought. I should try and contact him soon and find out how everyone's doing.

"If you're looking for a way out, you won't find it down there," he said quietly. She whirled around to face him, startled. How had he known what she was doing?

"I did not become regent of Cybertron by being unobservant, my dear," he purred, his optics a warm, inviting blue as he smiled down at her. "Now . . . why don't we see about cleaning up the rest of you, hmm?"

There he goes again! What is he talking about? I'm fine!

She frowned, puzzled by his behaviour . . . and the fact that he was the only one so far who didn't have some kind of weapon at the ready.

"Come," he said gently, taking her hand as he started walking down the hall. Left with little choice in the matter, she followed him as he led her into a tiled room. Here, the lighting was a mixture of oil lamps and hidden lighting strips. A sink stood just inside the door, a rack of colourful towels standing on its far side. The Mech barely paused as he drew her further into the room. Across from the sink was a bank of dryers, the showering alcove situated on the other side of the wall. The room continued deeper, but she couldn't imagine what else could be back there.

He stopped at the shower alcove and for the first time she saw the mirror above the sink. More importantly, she saw her reflection in that mirror. 'At'prafen was surprised to see that nearly all of the dirt and grime from living underground was gone. She simply didn't see why he thought she needed to be cleaned up more; by the looks of it, she was clean enough.

In looking at her reflection, however, 'At'prafen noticed the long, slender scar that graced her left cheek. Slowly, she reached up to touch it. It had been so long since she'd seen it that she'd forgotten that it was there. But she hadn't forgotten how she had gotten it. She'd never forget something like that.

Stop it! her mind cried. It's dead and in the past! Focus on the now!

With that, 'At'prafen blinked some and shook her head slightly, returning to the thought at hand. She gazed into the mirror once more and decided that this Mech was crazy. She didn't need any more cleaning.

"I could have First Aid remove that scar, if you wished. He is quite the accomplished surgeon," he purred, his voice having a hypnotic effect on her. She shook her head again, surprised when hanks of matted fibers swung around her. 'At'prafen's gaze darted up to the mirror again, surprised to see that he had not only loosened her hair, but he was now applying some sort of cleansing fluid to a section of it.

What is he doing!

She tensed, fear and panic nagging her. What was this Mech that he was able to lull her senses so easily? And what did he want from her? 'At'prafen was almost afraid to find out.

888888888

Ultra Magnus could feel her body tensing under him. In fact, he could almost taste her fear in the air. Setting the bottle of cleanser back on the shelf in the alcove, he tried to work the cleanser through a section of her hair. But her fear was threatening to push her over the edge.

"Shhh," he murmured soothingly, sliding his hands down to rest on her shoulders, "it's all right, my dear. I'm not going to hurt you."

He watched her reaction, but her fear and panic were getting worse.

"You don't know who I am, do you, my dear?"

Slowly, she shook her head 'no', paying no heed as the cleansing fluid dripped from her hair onto her back and shoulders.

"Ultra Magnus, Lord Regent of the Empire. I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me."

She just stared at him through the mirror. Recognition did not light up in her optics nor across her face. She was still as scared and edgy as before.

"This would be easier if I knew something about you . . . your name, perhaps?" he murmured. Not that he expected her to respond. She had yet to say a word. The fact that she did not recognize his name marginally surprised him, though it did explain her rather dirty appearance. There were dozens of cells of neutrals, Decepticons, and renegade Autobots scattered across Cybertron. Their threat levels ranged from growing annoyance to those who wanted nothing but to be left alone.

Again, she shook her head 'no', more cleansing fluid dripping from her matted hair. Her optics continued to stare at him through the mirror but there was a wariness to them that wasn't there before.

"No?" he asked softly. "Afraid of me, are we?"

She hesitated before nodding some, as if she regretted admitting it.

"You have nothing to fear from me," he murmured. Careful to keep his touch feather light, Magnus began massaging the cleansing fluid through the matted microfibers of her hair. She was as skittish as a turbofox kit, and twice as scared.

"You don't say anything," he continued conversationally. "Do you know how to speak?"

The Femme nodded again, this time slightly. She was starting to relax some, though it wasn't by much. She continued to keep a somewhat wary optic on him through the mirror.

"You simply choose not to? How interesting," he soothed, reaching out to activate one of the showerheads. A warm cascade of water splashed down next to them, close enough to mist them but not actually striking either of them. He smiled warmly, adding another handful of cleanser to the mass of tangled fibers.

She jumped the moment he activated the showerhead, obviously startled yet curious at the same time. It was like she had never seen anything like it before. And whether she knew it or not, she was very slowly giving him details about her and her life.

He smiled warmly, turning her slightly so he could run the lower half of her hair under the showerhead. Magnus watched as the water dripped down the lengths of the red fibers, startling her yet again before trickling down her neck, carrying dirty suds away with it.

"Is this your first time in Iacon then?" he asked, curious to see just how much information she was willing to give him. She nodded absently at that question, her focus more on the showerhead. After a moment or so, she sighed heavily and just stood there, as if resigned to endure this for however long that she needed to.

Hmm . . . hardly the usual reaction. But perhaps she is simply running low on energy, he thought to himself, rinsing out the last of the cleansers. After another moment, he deactivated the showerhead. With gentle hands, he guided her to the bank of dryers.

"Stand here a moment," he directed gently as he placed her under one of the dryer units and activated it. She flinched again as the warm air struck her. He grabbed a towel from the nearest stack, concern rising at the dull look in her optics. When is the last time she re-energized properly? Poor girl . . .

Her optics began to droop and she swayed where she stood before collapsing unceremoniously to her knees.

"Easy now," he murmured, lifting her into his arms. A tiny flinch was all the resistance she offered as he deactivated the dryer and carried her out of the room. He watched as her body powered down to minimum in a desperate attempt to spare power. For a brief moment, anger flashed through his systems; he would have words with First Aid later.

888888888

"Has your sister contacted you yet?"

'At'pren looked up, surprised to hear it was his mother's voice asking that and not his father's. Chromia hardly visited them unless it was to give them a new location for their raids.

Yet, here she was, standing next to Ironhide no less. That baffled him even more. As far as 'At'pren could remember, they couldn't stand each other, were often at each other's throats for some reason or another. The fact that they weren't snipping at each other surprised him just as much.

What gives?

"No, she hasn't," he replied quickly. "Silverstreak will be back soon. Hopefully with some news of her location."

"I wouldn't count on it," Chromia stated. "They don't have a name on her. The fact that she's tiny for a Femme and has no sigil will attract attention to her."

'At'pren's jaw dropped in shock and surprise. This was the first time he had ever heard his mother going into detail about anything. Normally, she didn't speak anymore than what Fen did. If she did, she usually shot whoever annoyed her, including Ironhide.

But what she had said chilled him and he began to worry about his twin even more. With everything they had gone through over the last several vorns, especially her, the last thing she needed was for some Mech to try and take advantage of her. He knew she was quite capable of defending herself but if she was outnumbered like the last time . . .

'At'pren clenched his fists at the memories as rage and a strong desire to go and get her came over him.

"Easy there, 'At'pren," Ironhide cautioned. "There's not much we can do until she contacts you."

He glanced sharply at his father.

"You have an idea as to where she is. Don't you?"

Ironhide and Chromia looked at each other, as if debating whether to tell him or not. After one moment, Chromia gave a slight nod of her head to Ironhide. Ironhide looked at him, his expression grim.

"What? What is it? Where is she?" he demanded, his worry starting to overcome him.

"Your mother and I discussed the coordinates of the warehouse your sister was in when she got caught. . ."

"And?" 'At'pren prompted impatiently.

"Keep yourself calm, boy, and learn a little patience," Ironhide snapped. "I'm getting there."

'At'pren flinched. It was the first time his father had snapped at him for being impatient but he couldn't help it. He wanted his sister home, where she belonged.

"I'm sorry, Father," he murmured, chastised.

"Apology accepted," Ironhide said. "As I was saying, we were discussing the coordinates of the warehouse your sister was caught in. It was the wrong location for the raid."

"What!"

"It was the wrong location," Chromia repeated. "The location descriptions got mixed up somehow and she ended up in the heart of Iacon."

"How . . .?"

'At'pren felt himself growing cold again. He had heard of Iacon only once and the memory was not pleasant. A group of renegade Autobots had found them many, many vorns ago. As two of them nearly beat him to death, one of them told him about Iacon and what happened to those who dared to oppose the Autobot Empire or to steal from it. He shuddered to think of what was happening to his sister at that moment.

"'At'pren, sit down," Ironhide ordered, concern seeping into his voice. 'At'pren complied without saying a word. Fear for his sister gripped him. He wanted to be there, to protect her. More than anything, he wanted to protect her.

"What do you think they'll do to her?" he whispered as another thought came to him, chilling him even more. 'At'prafen didn't speak. If she didn't answer their questions . . .

"Nothing," Ironhide stated.

"Nothing?" he echoed.

"Nothing," Ironhide confirmed. "For the moment, she'll be safe."

"How do you know for sure?" he asked weakly.

"Because we know who's in charge . . . I may not care for him but I do know that he's not stupid, 'At'pren. He'll see that she's of Autobot construction. He won't harm her," Ironhide soothed.

"I wish I could believe that, Dad," 'At'pren murmured, hanging his head. Please, Fen, please let me know you're all right, he pleaded silently, tuning out his father's reassurances.

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'At'prafen stirred slightly, groaning silently to herself. She felt as if someone had dropped several tons of debris on top of her and set it on fire. Carefully, she tried to sit up but the muscle cables in her neck, back, and shoulders screamed at her in protest and agony.

What hit me? she wondered to herself, wincing slightly as she sat up. Tentatively, she raised her hand up to massage her neck.

At first, she paid no heed to the fact that her hair was loose, still a bit damp, and completely combed. Nor did she notice right off that she was not alone.

"Well now, this is a surprise," a deep, masculine voice purred. Startled, she tried to look up, but pain shot through her instead.

"Easy," a soft tenor cautioned. "Wasn't expecting you to wake up just yet."

She tilted her head up slowly, pushing past the pain to see who was with her. A white and red medic was perched on the recharge berth next to her, concern clear on his face in spite of the facemask and optic visor that made reading him almost impossible.

Wake up just yet? she frowned. What's going on? She shifted some, trying to put a little bit of distance between her and the medic. That's when she realized the surface she was on was soft. Extremely soft. It was as if she was floating on air or something similar to it.

"Easy, it's all right . . . just relax, hon. You're still low on energy," the medic explained gently.

That explains that then . . . she sighed to herself. But it doesn't ease the cramps.

At that thought, she turned her attention away from the medic and tried to massage her neck once more.

Need to relax . . . so I can get out of here. She closed her optics.

Her head began to spin at that moment and she had to stop. Carefully, 'At'prafen leaned her head against the wall, waiting for the dizziness to end.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Oh, right, you don't speak . . .."

She heard the medic sigh, then a muted creak as his weight left the bed. Footsteps drew near. The other one. Ultra Magnus, I think he said.

"There's not much more I can do, my lord. A telepath medic might be more valuable in this instance."

"Find Morpheus and I will be satisfied, First Aid," the other Mech rumbled. Again she heard footsteps, lighter this time to match the lighter build of the medic as he retreated from the room.

"I can help you," he rumbled. "But only if you can communicate with me."

In spite of her dizzy spell, 'At'prafen opened her optics to look at him. Immediately, she regretted it as her vision blurred and the spinning intensified. She groaned silently once more and curled up, continuing to lean against the wall.

The bed creaked faintly and she could feel his bulk on the berth next to her. Fear flashed through her, then she felt a glass at her lips.

"Drink," he commanded softly, clasping one of her hands and then wrapping it around the glass. She shivered at his touch, but felt far too weak to even try to fight him. The glass tilted slightly, cool liquid touching her lips. Rather than spill all over, she drank, surprised at the light flavor of the energon. This was of a far higher quality than she was accustomed to drinking, the cool fire of energy surging through her systems.

Slowly, 'At'prafen drank what she could before finally pushing the glass away. She no longer felt tired, and the cramping had lessened some, but not by much. But she felt better than what she had in a few orn.

"Feeling better?" he asked gently. A soft clink told her he had set aside the glass. She tried to nod, but the pain in her neck lingered, making her wince.

"Let me help," he purred, his weight suddenly gone. Then she felt his hands on her neck in shoulders. Again, panic surged through her. What is he doing now?

"Easy," he murmured, gently massaging her neck. His touch was so light, so gentle . . . she could feel herself relaxing in spite of herself.

Slowly, 'At'prafen opened her optics. For a brief moment, she considered contacting her brother but immediately ruled it out. This Ultra Magnus had sent for a telepath medic. If this telepath, this Morpheus, showed up while she was talking with her brother, she risked the possibility of their hiding spot being discovered. Even though the continued silence would worry them more, she had to maintain it.

I can't let them find us again . . . Especially Rowan . . . I can't . . ..

As her thoughts turned to the young Femme, 'At'prafen shuddered involuntarily and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. She loved Rowan with all of her spark, even though the memories of her creation were painful, and she'd do whatever it would take to protect her daughter and her siblings. Though she had been scared of him when Ironhide had come back, 'At'prafen was glad he was with them now. To her, it meant more protection for Rowan.

And I won't let this Morpheus find out about them, she vowed to herself stubbornly. I won't. It's time I stopped wasting energy on fear and panic. My clan is depending on me.

Resolute, 'At'prafen began to banish her fears and panic. She was going to be afraid no more.

888888888

In a darkened corner of a darkened room huddled a very young Femme. It was hard to discern what her colour scheme was or what she really looked like; layers of grime and dirt covered nearly every inch of her body, but her optics were a clear blue, just like her mother's. And at that moment, that was who was on her mind.

"Rowan? How are you doing?"

She looked up to see Ironhide standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable to her.

"I'm doing all right . . . Is she back yet?"

Solemnly he shook his head 'no', and Rowan slumped against the wall. There was something wrong, she was sure of it. It wasn't like her mother to not contact 'At'pren at all.

"Why hasn't she contacted anyone?" she inquired softly.

Ironhide shrugged. "Don't know. All we know is it's her blocking 'At'pren and no one else. So she must have a pretty good reason for it."

Rowan nodded gloomily. She, like the rest of them, had hoped nothing terrible had befallen 'At'prafen. She knew the story behind her creation and had known it for a very long time. Why 'At'prafen hadn't gotten rid of her or taken everything out on her baffled Rowan. But, as 'At'pren had always told her, 'At'prafen had her reasons for everything.

"Ironhide . . ."

"Yeah Rowan?"

"I want to help."

"There's not much . . ." he began.

"DON'T TELL ME THAT!" she cried, springing to her feet. "There is too something I can do to help. There's always something to do to help. I will help her, even no one else helps me."

Ironhide looked surprise at her outburst and by the vehemence in her voice. Oddly enough, Rowan was glad about it. Maybe they'll stop trying to shelter me.

"All right then," he said reluctantly. "Let's go see what needs to be done."

"Thank you," she murmured, following him out of the room.

"No problem."

888888888

Ultra Magnus could feel the young Femme finally beginning to relax under his hands. Curiosity plagued him. Who was she and where had she come from? What had she been doing in that warehouse and did Elita's band now know their intended raid was a setup? Would someone be coming to rescue her? Or was she a drifter, a loner that just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?

No, not a loner. Her mind is linked with someone, we know that much at least. But still, too many unanswered questions. And where is Morpheus?

His hands slowly worked down her neck and shoulders, his fingers delicately feeling out the strained muscle cable and releasing the stress. An involuntary sigh escaped her as she relaxed into his touch. He was tempted to do more, but the idea of being interrupted did not appeal. Later, perhaps, he thought to himself with a smile.

Soft footsteps slipped into his awareness, the light tread of a spy. Morpheus, he thought to himself, glancing back at the bedroom door. He listened to the spy's progress and in due time was rewarded with the sleek form of Morpheus framed in his doorway.

"You send for me, my liege?"

"Yes. My guest here prefers to be silent, so you shall have to listen to the words she does not say."

Morpheus nodded, studying the young Femme carefully. For her part, she merely sat there, watching them both warily. Magnus offered her a warm smile, intending to put her at ease. However her posture remained stiff, controlled. Almost as if she was fighting some internal battle. He wondered what Morpheus was receiving from her . . .

888888888

Morpheus settled his bulk on the end of the bed, relaxing completely. Lowering his shields slightly, his thoughts were bathed in the powerful aura of purpose Lord Magnus projected. Morpheus smiled inwardly; to feel the resolute and unwavering faith of his liege lord was a reaffirming experience. He then focused on his objective, namely, the Femme at the other end of the bed. With practiced ease, he aligned his thought processes with hers, skimming the surface of her thoughts. He could already sense the link Neo had reported earlier. There was a slight resistance beneath the surface, but for now he was content to simply listen.

"Let's start at the beginning, hmm? What is your name, my dear?"

If I tell you, will you tell me why it is so imperative that everyone should know?

Morpheus smiled, amused at the strength in her mental voice. She was a feisty little spitfire, but more, she was used to telepathic exchanges.

"Well?" Ultra Magnus demanded, a hint of impatience flashing in his optics.

"She wants to know why everyone seems bent on knowing her name. She'll tell you if you'll explain it to her."

An amused chuckle poured out of the bulky warlord. Sapphire optics glinted with amusement and Magnus reached out to briefly touch the Femme's cheek.

"Well, for one thing, I can't keep calling you 'my dear' when I am speaking with you."

She appeared to be considering it for a moment before nodding to herself.

'At'prafen Pax.

Morpheus marginally widened an optic before dutifully relaying her thought.

"'At'prafen Pax, hmm? As lovely a name as it's bearer," Magnus purred, "Though I don't suppose you have a shorter form?"

Perhaps . . ..

This time Morpheus couldn't help but laugh as a faint smile touched 'At'prafen Pax's lips.

You had better tell me, darling, he sent, his mental tone rich with amusement. You can't just talk to the warlord of the Autobot Empire like that, 'At'prafen Pax. It's a good way to get yourself killed.

Morpheus flashed her a warm smile, not yet ready to meet his liege's optics.

'At'prafen will do. . . If he wishes to shorten it, so be it. It does not matter to me.

"She says 'At'prafen is sufficient, my liege. You may shorten it further if you wish; she cares not."

The Autobot warlord nodded once, then reached out to take 'At'prafen's hand, turning his back on Morpheus. Morpheus suppressed a sigh; he could tell his liege was angry with him. He would make amends later, however.

"What were you doing in that warehouse, 'At'prafen?"

Surviving.

"Surviving," Morpheus repeated quietly. Magnus turned around to glare at him, optics narrowed.

"What would you have me say, Liege? You asked the question, she answered it. You know better than anyone the state of the Empire."

"I expect better than one-word responses from you, Morpheus. Do not disappoint me again."

Morpheus suppressed a growl as Lord Magnus turned his attention back to 'At'prafen. I do believe someone is forgetting just why I am Guild Master of the Telepath Guild, he thought to himself bitterly. But now was hardly the time to be reminding him.

'At'prafen looked away from both of them, a slight sadness creeping into her optics. Slowly, carefully, she started to edge away from them, memories tickling around the edges of her mind. They threatened to destroy whatever little self-control she had left.

Morpheus hissed quietly, sliding alongside her thoughts. He absorbed the memories as they appeared, but gave them little thought. At that moment, he was more worried about her mental state.

Speak to me, 'At'prafen. Let me help him to help you.

Not again . . . Please not again . . .

Not again? Not again what? he sent gently, trying to get a better feel for what was bothering her. So wrapped up in her memories was she, she offered no resistance as he slid deeper into her thoughts. What he saw there sickened him. His fists clenched, almost of their own accord. She was a fellow Autobot, he thought angrily to himself. This . . . this depravity has no place in the Empire.

He was peripherally aware of Ultra Magnus watching him with growing concern. A portion of his awareness noted protests from his body at the tension he was applying to his own frame in his efforts to keep from lashing out. Forcing his mind to stillness, he reached out to 'At'prafen once more, his mental touch at once gentle and yet firm.

That nightmare is over, 'At'prafen. You are safe here.

She nearly jumped when she heard him say that and was almost embarrassed that he even found out.

It was vorns ago . . . It's long since been over . . .

At that, 'At'prafen lowered her head. I just . . . I've moved on with my life. It's over and done with.

"Morpheus . . ."

Morpheus repressed a flinch at the mix of concern and impatience in Ultra Magnus's tone. With an effort, he forced himself to relax, to let go of his anger. As he did, he sifted through the other memories he had gleaned from her. He found details he wasn't sure he wanted, but nothing more on her reasons for sneaking into the warehouse.

"Morpheus . . ."

"Patience, Liege," Morpheus murmured, rising to walk closer to her. She was watching him warily, azure optics shaded with unease. He briefly cupped her cheek, smiling gently. He then lightly touched Magnus's hand, transmitting an urgent need to speak privately.

Morpheus could feel his liege lord's displeasure as they withdrew to the hall. Strengthening his shields, he steeled himself against the probable verbal onslaught.

"Well? Just what game are you playing, Morpheus? I need to know if Neo's mission has been compromised. Now, if you can't handle that, say so and I'll find someone else."

Morpheus lashed out, both physically and mentally. He had a great deal of respect for Ultra Magnus, but he refused to tolerate anyone questioning his abilities. He was Telepath Guild Master for a very good reason. So he was surprised to find himself face first on the floor, his arm twisted painfully behind him and Ultra Magnus's pulse canon nestled against the back of his neck.

"You were saying?"

"Agh! She . . . she isn't one of Elita's band."

"You could have told me that in there. Why draw me out here?" Magnus demanded, adding extra pressure to his arm. Morpheus could feel cables straining to the point of snapping.

"She . . . she was raped . . . by Autobots . . . Your anger triggered a flashback . . ."

Ultra Magnus released him suddenly, stepping back a pace. Morpheus gingerly picked himself up off the floor, cradling his injured arm carefully. With a wince he realized several fluid lines had burst under the pressure and his arm was already filling with various internal fluids.

"What else?"

"That's all I know, Liege."

"Then I suggest you get back in there and find out what she was doing in that warehouse."

"Yes, Liege," he murmured. Stifling a sigh, he walked back into the bedchamber.

'At'prafen, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"What the . . .?"

Morpheus mentally scanned the room, releasing a relieved sigh when he felt her presence buried behind a mound of pillows and blankets. A small smile tugging at his lips, he crossed the room swiftly, pausing only briefly before settling his bulk on the bed beside her.

Instinctively, she shied away, the slight movement of the blankets and pillows the only indication of her location.

"Shhh, it's just me again, darling," he murmured, resting a hand on the lump she made under the blankets. "No one's going to hurt you. We just want to know why you were in that warehouse."

She sighed mentally, tiredly. I told you. Surviving.

"Tell me more," he murmured softly, all too aware of both her weariness and Lord Magnus's continuing displeasure. And of the aches in his arm.

Again, she sighed mentally. Stealing supplies. Okay?

That's all you had to say, he sent back gently. Those supplies are there to be stolen, though not by you I dare say. Unless you really are working for Elita.

Why would I work for her?

I wouldn't know. Between us, only an insane mechanism would agree to join her.

Well, I'm not working for her. I'm just trying to survive.

I suppose now you want to sleep, hmm? he sent gently, a hint of amusement creeping into his mental tone.

No.

No? Well, perhaps you should anyway, he suggested gently, trying to ease her into a recharge mode. For the briefest moment, he thought she might actually resist. But his coaxing was so gentle, so subtle . . . in a few microns her systems had shut down into a stable recharge mode. Smiling to himself, he eased himself off the bed and walked over to where Ultra Magnus was still waiting just inside the doorway.

"She doesn't work for Elita, she was just stealing supplies. I've sent her into a recharge mode for now; rest is more important than questions at the moment."

"Understood," Magnus rumbled softly. "Go, have someone look at your arm."

"By your command," Morpheus replied smoothly, bowing. He hurried away from the warlord as swiftly as decorum allowed; he was not interested in sustaining any additional injuries.

888888888

'At'prafen stirred, slowly waking herself up from the recharge Morpheus had imposed upon her. It was a bit painful at first but something she felt was necessary. She wasn't exactly prepared to deal with any nightmares.

Maybe they'll both have left and I can get out of here . . .

Very carefully, she pulled the blankets off of her and moved the pillows. Tentatively, she lifted her head up and looked around.

So far, so good . . . Time to contact 'At'pren . . .

As she pushed herself up and off of the bed, 'At'prafen opened her link to her twin.

'At'prafen? Thank Primus! What happened? Where are you? How are you?

I'm fine . . . I guess I'm in Iacon . . .

They haven't done anything to you, have they? he demanded.

No, she sighed. But I'm going to have to close the link again. There are at least two telepaths here . . .

Fen . . .

No arguments, 'At'pren! I'll be fine. Here's what you need to know . . .

With that, she quickly relayed nearly everything that had happened since they last talked.

There's more . . .

Yes, there is, but I have no time. Please, 'At'pren, trust me on this, she pleaded.

All right . . . I'll let everyone know what's up . . .

She could tell he wasn't very happy about this, but there wasn't much either of them could do about it.

Just keep in touch, all right Fen?

I will, she reassured him. I will.

Take care, Sis.

Gently, she closed their link and crept out of the room.

888888888

Ultra Magnus studied the terminal in front of him, frowning. The Empire, by and large, was doing well. Quite well, if he was being truthful with himself. Still, there remained that friction between himself and the Lord Prime. Optimus believed in wringing a world dry, then moving on. Magnus preferred exploiting a world's renewable resources . . . such as the near-limitless possibilities of solar power. It was an old argument, one that had earned Ultra Magnus his share of injuries, and yet it remained unresolved. And now Optimus was demanding the A. Nathis system be brought in line with his vision of the Empire.

Idiot, Magnus thought to himself darkly. But before he could indulge in a much of an internal rant, he heard a faint footfall. He glanced up just in time to see 'At'prafen Pax dart across the room. Reacting immediately, he hit the remote door lock. She collided with the locked door with a hollow clang.

Slowly, she looked over at him, carefully picking herself up off the floor. She regarded him with wary optics.

"Surely you didn't mean to leave without even saying goodbye?" he crooned, slowly rising from his chair. He walked around the desk, approaching her with a small smile.

She pointed at the desk, specifically at the terminal. Her gaze never left him, but she was still wary of him.

"What? Oh that . . . Hardly important enough to keep me from seeing you," he murmured, closing the distance between them with a final step. He reached out to her, fingers tracing lightly over her cheek then through her long, unbound tresses. His other hand rested lightly on her hip, insuring she wouldn't just slip away from him.

"Are you really in such a hurry to leave?" he purred softly.

For a moment, it looked like she might say something. Instead, she sighed softly and shook her head 'no'. It was as if there was some sort of conflict within her.

"I thought not," he said softly, drawing her closer. Smiling warmly, he laid a soft kiss on her lips. Feeling a slight tremor shake through her frame, he slid his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her again.

She hesitated, as if unsure of what to do next or even how to respond to something like that. It was as if she'd never been kissed before.

"Never even been kissed?" he whispered, surprise evident in his tone.

'At'prafen closed her optics and shook her head 'no', as if she didn't want to remember something.

"Forget them," he urged quietly. "They no longer matter."

He picked her up easily, kissing her again as he walked back to his bedchamber. Her optics opened in shock, obviously unused to such attention. She nearly froze when he kissed her again. He slowly broke off his kiss, smiling softly.

"So beautiful," he murmured, setting her down on the recharge berth. His optics drank in her petite frame with an appreciative smile. The way her hair cascaded freely around her intrigued him; he had never seen such long tresses before.

Embarrassed, she lowered her head. She was also obviously quite scared and nervous.

"Be at ease, 'At'prafen my dear," he whispered. "Never more than you desire."

She glanced up at him, surprise evident in her optics.

"I promise."

She studied him with optics far too haunted for one of her youth. He traced the line of her jaw lightly before kissing her again. A soft sound not unlike a sigh escaped her and her whole body relaxed. He smiled, flicking a small transmit-message switch on the bedside console; it would never do to have someone interrupting because of a missed appointment.

888888888

Rowan woke up with a start, coolant beading down her forehead. She'd had the most horrible dream and in it something terrible had happened to her mother. Immediately, she looked around, only to find that she was alone. She sprang to her feet, silently cursing herself for even slipping into a recharge mode. Rowan rushed from the room, only to stop suddenly in surprise.

Outside the door stood 'At'pren, Goldstar, and Silverstreak, their expressions somewhat grim. Rowan had a sinking feeling that her mother had contacted 'At'pren and that the news was not good.

"What's happened?" she asked, her voice extremely soft. "Is she all right?"

"You know, kid, you need to learn to be a lot tougher than what you are," Silverstreak growled, his optics glittering. Stung by his words and his unusually grumpy mood, Rowan took a step back.

"Ease off, Silverstreak," 'At'pren snapped. "She has every right to be concerned. Fen is her mother, after all."

Silverstreak glared at him before grunting and stalking off. Goldstar sighed.

"I'll go talk to him, 'At'pren."

"Thank you, Goldstar."

She nodded before hurrying after her twin. 'At'pren sighed and scrubbed his face.

"Before you say anything, Rowan, Chromia's on the warpath. We've learned a bit more than just how Fen is doing . . ."

"Like what?"

"Elita made some changes to her raiding plans before Chromia could get back to base and consult with her. She stepped up the time and took Chromia off at the last moment."

"That's good . . ."

"No, it isn't. Elita's walking into some sort of surprise or trap, and Chromia's very upset about it. Dad's taken her somewhere so she can cool down . . ." He shook his head.

"I don't see . . ."

"When Chromia's on the warpath, it's trouble for whoever is in her way or mouths off to her. You were almost it until Dad said something."

"How . . . ?" Rowan felt herself growing cold.

"She left shortly after you began your recharge cycle and just got back. Like I said, Dad's with her, trying to get her calmed down. Once he's done that, he's going to inform her of what's going on with Fen."

"What is going on with her? Has she contacted you yet?"

"Yes, she has. She said she's fine and that she's going to try and find a way out."

Relief flooded her and she offered 'At'pren a faint smile, though he wasn't looking at her.

"So she'll be home soon, right?"

"No."

"No? But you said . . ." Rowan was confused.

""I said she was going to try. Dad says that doesn't mean that they'll let her go. In fact, he said they'll definitely try to stop her."

Rowan was crestfallen and she felt as if she'd never see her mother again.

"Don't worry, Rowan. We're going to come up with something to get her out and she'll be back home before too much longer. Okay?"

Rowan nodded numbly, no longer hearing what 'At'pren was saying. Already, she was forming her own plans to aid her mother.

I'll get you out, Mother. I swear it.

888888888

'At'prafen lay curled up on the bed, her mind racing. She felt as if she were on fire and slowly cooling down. Parts of her ached but, for some strange reason, she felt some form of satisfaction. She sighed softly and closed her optics for a few moments.

She startled as she felt him nuzzle her neck, his arms folding around her. He's still here. He's still here? What's he doing?

'At'prafen opened her optics and tried to turn to look at him. Truth be told, she was puzzled by the fact that he was still there.

"Surprised, my dear?" he rumbled, his deep voice colored with amusement. He nuzzled her neck again, one hand tracing the contours of her hip.

'At'prafen nodded some, suppressing a wince as she twisted herself around. She no longer felt exhausted but she did feel drained. However, she pushed her thoughts beyond what she was feeling and to getting out.

I'll just wait for him to slip into a recharge mode. Then I'll arm myself and get out.

She turned her attention back to him, hoping that he'd be slipping into a recharge mode soon.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he murmured, touching her cheek while frowning in concern. She shook her head quickly, hoping he would believe her. It appeared to work as he nodded once then kissed her forehead.

"Then dream well, my little one," he murmured, his optics fading offline.

'At'prafen waited for a few moments before she carefully slipped out from underneath his arms. Pain lanced through her as she did so, but she duly ignored it. Careful not to disturb him, 'At'prafen slipped off the bed, biting back a cry as pain lanced through her again.

I'll be all right . . . It's nothing . . . I'll be all right . . .

Placing one foot in front of other, she headed out of the bedroom and down the hall. With vorns of practice, 'At'prafen began her search for the materials she needed to make her weapons.

Once she had found a few useful things, 'At'prafen found a quiet corner in the apartment and began her work. Halfway through her work, though, the pain became almost unbearable and she stopped, curling up into a ball.

888888888

Irradia drummed her fingers on the black console next to her. A console that was supposed to be displaying the computer interface for the main driver reactors. I never should have listened to Magnus. I don't care what he thinks Prime would do, this entire trip was a mistake.

Things had been marginally tolerable on the trip out, but they had rapidly deteriorated the moment she set foot on A. Nathis IV. The interplanetary communication network had been down for the previous six hours; they hadn't realized an Autobot shuttle was coming until her craft came out of transwarp just beyond the planetary defense range. The Nathi apologized profusely for their error, but being targeted by an entire planet's defensive arsenal fresh out of transwarp was not an auspicious beginning.

Of course, since the Nathi had not expected any visitors, nothing was ready for her. Even the home she normally used during her stay was closed up. Which left her with five hours of doing nothing but waiting while the natives prepared everything for her. And being Nathi, they wouldn't even let her help or even approach her guest house until everything was prepared to their liking.

It's a miracle they ever get anything done, with all the ceremony and pomp the put into something as simple as opening a house. Enough ritual to choke a Thascian ogre-seal.

The console suddenly flared to life beside her, chirring happily to itself. She studied the readouts with a critical optic, annoyance flaring once more when she noticed the power levels where way below standard.

"Just what in the name of Primus have you been doing with those reactors anyway, Castor? Do I need to come back there and take care of this myself? At this rate, I could have flown myself home!"

"I'll have the transvector drives online and at full power in another breem. And if you'll check your navi link, you'll see the standard warp drive has taken us within one jump of Cybertron."

A loud clank issued up from the drive room, like someone's fist striking someone else's torso. Irradia checked her link to the navigation computer and, wonder of wonders, Castor was right. Once the transvector drives were active again, they could be home in thirty breems, possibly less. That's almost enough to make up for his incompetence in letting the drives fail in the first place.

Irradia ran a few simulations on the current drive configuration. She wanted to be surprised by Castor's inefficient configuration, but after this latest fiasco, she just couldn't do it. Sighing softly, she walked down to the engine room.

A faint smile touched her lips at the sight before her. Castor was hunkered in a corner, ostensibly repairing a tear in the bulkhead. Starchaser, meanwhile, was working on the main transvector drive reactor, shooting glares across the room at Castor.

"Report?"

"She hit me!" Castor whined.

"You're lucky that's all I did!" Starchaser growled. "He's got this reactor crosswired so many ways it's a miracle he didn't blow us up on our first jump!"

"That's . . . that's . . . that's ridiculous!" the scandalized Mech sputtered.

"So is the notion that you're still functioning," Starchaser hissed. "You should look at this thing, Mom. It's embarrassing."

Curious, Irradia joined her daughter at the open bulkhead panel next to the main reactor core. Wire guides, mnemonic gelpaks, datacrystal rods, optical cabling, and sensor matrices all coordinated to control the reactors and their power output. However, what was normally an organized, if chaotic to the untrained optic, mesh of parts now resembled the nest of a strung out glitchmouse.

Irradia crossed the engine room with swift strides, grabbing Castor around his neck.

"Are you a traitor, Castor, or just an idiot?" she growled menacingly.

"I . . . I don't know what you're talking about," he gasped.

"Only an utter incompetent would think this was an acceptable configuration," she growled. "Or a traitor who was trying to get us all killed. So which is it?"

"I'm no traitor! Least of all a suicidal one!"

"Liegana! We have full power!"

"Excellent! Take us back to Cybertron, best speed!"

"Yes ma'am!"

"As for you Castor," she growled, optics flashing blood red, "you have all of two breems to convince me you're not traitorous scum."

888888888

'At'prafen lay curled up on the floor, coolant beading into her optics. Pain shot through her every time she moved and all she could manage to get out were involuntary faint mews and whimpers. She just hoped it would all pass before anyone could find her...

888888888

Irradia was pleasantly surprised and amazed at how quickly they made the return trip to Cybertron. The lights of the Imperial capital made up for all the little indignities of her trip. Almost. Nothing could make up for the fact she had been sent away in the first place. Or the fact that her engineer was a traitor to the Empire.

"Nails, escort Castor to the brig. I have some business to attend to first."

"By your command, Liegana," the dusky grey Mech replied.

"You will pay for this, bitch," Castor spat viciously. Nails backhanded him twice for his trouble before dragging him away.

"I'll finish up here, Mom."

"You know where I'll be if you need me," Irradia murmured, touching her daughter's hand briefly before departing. She trotted a short distance down the landing strip before transforming. Barking orders to the control tower, she violated half a dozen sections of the civil code before landing at the Imperial Palace. She was mildly surprised, and quietly impressed, to see Hot Spot waiting for her at the main entry.

"Trouble?"

"You could say that. Magnus busy?"

"He's with someone at the moment."

Irradia noted the odd tone of Hot Spot's voice as he escorted her towards the Lair. She waited for him to say more, but he seemed . . . reluctant for some reason. An odd reaction, to her mind at least.

"Who is she?" she asked at last, hoping to draw more information out of him.

"Some Burrower," he murmured.

This isn't right. What's he afraid of?

Quickening her pace, she stalked through the halls of Lord Magnus's inner sanctum unchallenged. Hot Spot hurried his pace, as if anxious she might do something . . . inappropriate. But instead of going to Ultra Magnus's quarters, she dragged her one-time bodyguard into her own, locking the doorplate behind her.

"What is going on, Hot Spot? You never let his dalliances bother you before. Why now?"

"You've changed since then," he hedged.

"Not so much that I would ever fool myself into thinking I have some exclusive claim to him. Besides, this would hardly be the first time he's had some Femme taken to his quarters since Groove found me. What's different?"

Hot Spot sighed then strolled over to the drinks dispenser.

"Can I get you anything?"

"You're trying to change the subject. If you're going to do that, you could at least tell me who she is."

"Her name is 'At'prafen Pax," he replied evenly, studying the dispenser intently before finally settling on something. "Neo still hasn't found a file on her. She claims she doesn't work for Elita's group and Morpheus believes her, but they are still concerned that the plan for Elita's next raid has been compromised."

"What plan? I wasn't aware we were taking any actions against Elita."

"Lord Prime ordered a counterstrike. He is not happy with her continued raiding. His intension was to have a device planted in the next target warehouse, something that would kill anyone in the warehouse when it went off, as a message to Elita. Lord Magnus changed the plan, intending only to warn her. But now the plan may not work at all."

Irradia crossed the room to join him at the dispenser, silently selecting her own drink. He wasn't meeting her optics and she couldn't figure out why. Something was bothering him, and she had the sneaking suspicion this Femme was nothing more than a convenient excuse. The trouble was, of course, getting him to admit it.

"What's really bothering you, Hot Spot?" she asked quietly, resting a hand on his forearm. He glanced up at her, optics wide with denial. But the denial faded quickly and he sighed.

"I'm being rude. I'm sure you would much rather be showering after such a long trip."

"Hot Spot . . ."

"I should be debriefing Nails anyway . . ."

"He's busy; found out the rating assigned as engineer was a traitor to the Empire. And you'll hear all about that just as soon as you tell me what's going on? And since when do you actually enjoying debriefing Nails? Ten trips now and every time he comes back whining about how much you hate him. Why?"

"Hate him? I don't hate him . . ."

She raised an optic ridge questioningly.

". . . I despise him."

"What? Why?"

"Because you chose him. Chose him to be your bodyguard, chose him to accompany you, chose him to watch over you, chose him to be your aide . . ."

He trailed off for a moment, then spoke again in a wounded whisper: "Chose him instead of me."

"Oh Hot Spot," she murmured, resting a hand on the side of his facemask, "I couldn't choose you, you know that. You're one of the High Command, and Magnus's most trusted lieutenant."

"I was part of the High Command before," he pointed out, stepping away from her.

"Yes, but before, Magnus had no need to worry about a bodyguard. Now . . . he needs you at his side when Lord Prime visits; he admitted as much. I chose the unselfish path."

He studied her with hooded optics. She could almost see the frown hiding beneath his battle mask.

"If it helps, he is nothing but a bodyguard and adjutant. I know he wishes to offer more, but that's not why I chose him.

"But you would know all of this if you didn't insist on keeping yourself away from me!" she growled, surprising herself with the bitterness she felt. She had apparently surprised him too.

"Irradia . . ."

"No, I think you've said enough for one day, Hot Spot. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

Angry with him, and even more so with herself for being angry with him, she stormed out of her apartment and stalked down the corridor towards Ultra Magnus's quarters.

Irradia was hardly surprised to find the apartment door locked but, with a little hacking, she managed to coax the sensor network to admit that Lord Magnus was sleeping. And that Femme was not in his bed with him. Curious, she used her personal key to gain access to the apartment.

As the door hissed shut behind her, stillness settled over the apartment. The sounds of the world beyond these rooms blocked out by the heavy shielding, she was surprised to hear a soft whimpering. Her surprise shifted to confusion as she traced the whimpering to a petite red Femme curled up in a close approximation of a ball, cowering under the antechamber desk.

"What in the stars? 'At'prafen Pax?"

The young Femme didn't acknowledge her. In fact, she hardly noticed that Irradia was there. She just lied there, her body shuddering.

It must be her, Irradia told herself, kneeling beside the young Femme. A quick inspection told her 'At'prafen was nearly unconscious. She scooped up the makeshift weapon, appraising it idly while she paged First Aid. Tucking the weapon away for a more thorough inspection later, she then headed back to awaken Ultra Magnus. She had questions, and he was just the person to give her the answers she needed.

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First Aid checked his messages, surprised to see a page from Irradia. He quickly gathered his medikit before heading to Lord Magnus's quarters; Irradia's page had been brief, less than completely helpful, but no less urgent. He had to wonder, thought, just what could be so urgent so soon after her return.

The guards at his apartment were even less helpful. They hadn't even been aware of a medical emergency. Striker immediately keyed open the door for him, remaining just inside the door as First Aid hurried into the apartment. At first glance, the apartment appeared normal, although he could hear raised voices coming from the back bedroom. He was about to head in that direction when a faint moan caught his audios. Tracing the sound, he was surprised to find the young Femme hiding under the antechamber desk.

What in the name of Cybertron is going on in here? he wondered, grabbing his medscanner from his medikit. He knew Magnus's personal affairs were really none of his business, but he couldn't help wondering just what this Femme was doing here, of all places.

First Aid ran the scanner over her, frowning when he read the results. She'd sustained internal injuries just in the short time since she had been released from his care. Injuries that were not consistent with any form of torture with which he was familiar. He winced with sudden understanding, sliding his medscanner back into its port on the medikit. He's going to have a fit when he hears about this, he sighed to himself, removing a thin stylus-like device. Designed to activate and direct an injured mechanisms self-repair nanites, it hummed briefly then beeped, the indicator light flashing red. Frowning once more, he slid the unit into the port on his portable. Confusion changed over to chagrin when he read the error message; the unit was unable to comply with his command because all available nanites were already tasked.

I should have noticed this when she was in my care before. Just never occurred to me to check her nanite levels. Well, at least they're fairly easy to replicate.

Socketing his tools into his medikit, he slung the strap over his shoulder then carefully scooped up the young Femme. A soft moan oozed out of her, but he was hardly surprised. Standing slowly, he turned to leave. From the door, Striker was watching him warily.

"Striker, when they've finished this latest fight, tell Lord Magnus I've taken her to my lab. She needs more serious medical care than I can give her here."

"Yes sir," the warrior replied, nodding as he stepped out of the way. First Aid nodded once, then eased into a lope as he carried his patient back to the medical ward.

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'At'prafen floated on a haze of nothingness, her cares having melted away. It was white all around her and she soon became aware of the sensation of falling. The sensation was alien yet, somehow, familiar to her.

What is it that you want this time? she asked wearily.

"You know exactly what it is that I want," a deep voice stated.

What if I don't want to do this? 'At'prafen shot back. This is the second time that you've done this to me. I won't do it!

"You shall do this!" the voice demanded. "If you do not, you shall suffer for it."

'At'prafen snorted. As if you haven't caused enough suffering!

"You have no idea as to what I'm capable of, 'At'prafen," the voice growled. "You think you're exclusive to my whims and wants? Do you?"

I know I'm not. So why don't you leave me alone and demand this of those others?

"Because I don't want to. I have chosen you for this. Now. Will you do as I command?"

No. I shall not. I am not your servant or slave to do with as you please.

"Very well then," the voice said. At that moment, pain lanced throughout her, causing her to scream and sending her back to a painful reality.

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First Aid had just finished replicating the young Femme's nanites just as Lord Magnus entered his Repair Bay. The warlord did not look pleased. He stopped for one moment in front of the Femme and looked over her before turning his attention to First Aid.

"What happened?" he demanded quietly. First Aid carefully chose h is words before he answered.

"She sustained some internal injuries, my lord. I needed to bring her here to replicate her nanites. Her levels were unusually low . . ."

"How did she obtain such injuries?"

First Aid hesitated. How do you tell someone the cause and not risk injury to yourself in the process? Still, there was no skirting around it, either. He had to tell him.

"By . . . interfacing, my lord . . ."

Lord Magnus's optics flashed briefly in obvious irritation. He looked at the Femme once more.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, my lord."

There was a moment of silence in which he looked at the Femme on the medical berth. First Aid could see the displeasure in his optics but said nothing. It wasn't his place to say anything. After a moment, he looked up.

"Let me know when she awakens. And make sure she's properly energized by the time I get down here," he growled quietly, causing First Aid to flinch.

"Yes, my liege," First Aid murmured.

Ultra Magnus turned to leave and got as far as the door when a soft whimper caught their attention. He turned around just as First Aid looked down. What they saw shocked them both.

The young Femme's optics were open. Painfully wide open. She was grasping the sides of the berth so tightly that First Aid feared she was going to damage her hands as well as the bed. Energon began to leak from the corners of her optics and from her mouth.

"What the slag is happening?" Ultra Magnus demanded.

"I don't know," First Aid replied. He was already busy, filling two different hypos, one with a sedative and the other with a very strong painkiller. "My lord, hold her still as best you can."

He nodded then picked her up to restrain her arms. She struggled futilely against the warlord but it still enabled First Aid to inject her with the sedative and the painkiller. A soft moan escaped her as both drugs worked quickly through her system and she slumped against Ultra Magnus. Her body still convulsed but it wasn't as bad. Carefully, the warlord set her back down on the bed and watched her. First Aid watched her as well.

Of her own accord, the Femme curled up some on her side, practically labouring to get air in and cool down. Coolant beaded down her forehead, dampening her hair. He could tell just by looking at her optics that she was still painfully aware of her surroundings. Frowning to himself, First Aid grabbed a scanner, intent on finding what was wrong with her. He only hoped that he could.

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Ultra Magnus looked at the petite Femme on the medical bed, anger, frustration and curiosity raging within him. 'At'prafen had lied to him when he had asked her if he had hurt her. She then tried to fashion a weapon, probably in an attempt to kill him. Irradia had shown him the weapon that she had started to fashion.

But the weapon itself is odd . . . Not like any I've ever seen. It's almost . . . primitive. Where did she learn to build such a weapon? What purpose does it serve? And what in the pits just happened to her? he wondered.

Another whimper escaped her, drawing his attention back to her. It was the most he had heard out of her since setting optics on her. He leaned in closer to her.

"'At'prafen, are you all right?"

She managed to lift her head up to look at him and nodded some. If anything, she looked worn out but he was now unsure if he could believe her when she nodded her head.

"Very well," he murmured. "I'm sending for Morpheus once more."

At that, her optics widened in fear and she shook her head 'no,' trying to sit up. A fresh wave of pain clearly assaulted her for she groaned and lied back down.

"First Aid, what's causing this?" he demanded quietly.

"I don't know, my liege," the medic responded. "I'm still trying to figure it out."

Ultra Magnus glowered at First Aid.

"That is not an acceptable answer, First Aid. I expect better than that from you," he snapped.

"My lord, I'm doing the best that I can," the other Mech protested. "Nothing is showing up on the scans. Just the pain and stress readings. It's bizarre to say the least."

"Then re-check your equipment," Magnus growled. "I want a definitive answer and I want it soon."

"Yes, my lord."

Ultra Magnus looked down at 'At'prafen one more time to tell her that he was sending for Morpheus when he saw that she had turned towards him. Energon still leaked some from her optics and her mouth. He reached for a cloth to wipe it away when he saw her take a finger to her lips. More specifically, to the energon gel that was leaking from them. Very carefully, she wrote something on the bed, using her own blood. Ultra Magnus took a look to see what she was writing then felt himself going into shock. On the table, she had written two words that no one had ever dared to utter, let alone write.

Vector Sigma

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'At'pren sat in his chair, his body relaxed completely against his will. Coolant beaded down his forehead and into his optics as wave after wave of pain assailed him. Though he was blocked from her, 'At'pren knew exactly what was happening to 'At'prafen. It had happened once before, a long time ago when she first refused to do what Vector Sigma had told her. Now she was fighting the super computer once again.

If there was only some way to defeat that blasted thing, he thought blasphemously. Then we wouldn't have to worry about this anymore.

I heard that, 'At'pren, a voice from nowhere said. Just for that, you now have your own task to complete. You know what you need to do, so do it or suffer the consequences.

"'At'pren? What's going on?"

He opened his optics to see everyone standing in front of him, watching him.

"We have some work to do," he stated hoarsely. "Vector Sigma has spoken."

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'At'prafen opened her optics to see Ultra Magnus applying a cool compress to her forehead. It felt soothing to her but she knew she couldn't stay in Iacon any longer. She had tarried there too long and it was going to cost her.

No . . . it's not going to cost me, she thought. Not anymore.

She pushed herself up only to have Ultra Magnus push her back down.

"You need to rest first, my dear," he purred, "before you go anywhere."

'At'prafen silently sighed to herself when she felt another presence in the room. It felt very familiar to her so she lifted her head up to look around. In the doorway, behind Ultra Magnus, stood Morpheus. The medic was on the other side of the room, going over something. What, she didn't know.

What is going on? she wondered.

We were hoping you could tell us, came the reply. 'At'prafen shot a glare at Morpheus.

What's that supposed to mean? she demanded. Morpheus walked to her and sat down. Ultra Magnus, however, did not move from where he sat.

It means, my dear, that you are an enigma to us, Morpheus replied smoothly. Why did you lie to Lord Magnus?

I didn't lie to him, she protested, confused.

Oh, but you did, he informed her. He asked you if he had hurt you and you shook your head 'no.' First Aid tells us that there was some minor tearing inside of you. Why did you lie to him?

I didn't lie, she protested weakly. I was fine. It was nothing!

Morpheus raised an optic at her then turned to Ultra Magnus.

"She says she did not lie to you, my lord. In fact, she maintains that she was fine and that it was nothing," the telepath stated. "Perhaps it is a personality quirk from one of her creators."

"Perhaps," the warlord rumbled. "You're not use to male attention, are you, 'At'prafen?"

'At'prafen shook her head 'no' as she carefully sat back up. Both Mechs were making her nervous and she at least wanted half a chance to get away from them if need be.

"What was the weapon for?"

Defense, she said instinctively.

Defense from what, 'At'prafen? Such a weapon would not hurt any of us.

Not against you. Against them.

Them? Them who?

As she wasn't sure as to how to describe them, 'At'prafen gave Morpheus a mental image from her memory banks. They were a subterranean race, slender, tall, rather fleshy, and greyish-green in colour. What they were rightly called, 'At'prafen didn't know. She just knew that they had razor-sharp claws, venomous fangs, and how to defend herself against them.

Standard blasters could take care of them, Morpheus said.

They adapt. Any kind of energy weapon eventually becomes useless against them, she retorted. Believe me, I know. I've fought and hidden from them my entire life!

If he was taken back by the ferocity of her words, Morpheus didn't let it show. Instead, he turned to Magnus once more and addressed him.

"The weapon, she says, is a defensive means against another race of beings who live deep in the underground tunnels of Cybertron. She knows it will not harm us but she also knows that energy weapons become ineffective against them."

"Really?" Magnus raised an optic ridge at her. "How come we've never encountered them before?"

Have you ever tried to reach Vector Sigma or sent anyone else? she shot back. I can guarantee you that those who have have never returned back to your ranks. Not unless Vector Sigma has designed it.

Watch your tone, 'At'prafen Pax, Morpheus warned in a dangerous tone. You're treading into dangerous territory as it is.

Big deal, 'At'prafen snorted. At this moment in time, I don't care. I have other things to worry about and to take care of . . .

"Morpheus?"

'At'prafen heard the expectancy in Ultra Magnus's tone and looked at her hand. She remembered the last time they had asked her questions. They had wanted more information when her answers weren't good enough. Silently, she sighed once more.

They live deep in the underground for a reason. To guard Vector Sigma and to kill those stupid enough to get close to them. No one sees them because they never leave their little niche. They never leave and never allow anyone to reach Vector Sigma unless Vector Sigma allows it. Any other information on them and Vector Sigma I cannot give, she said.

"She says they live deep under the surface," Morpheus began, watching her warily. "They have their own area in which they stay and guard Vector Sigma and kill those that get too close to them. No one can get near Vector Sigma unless Vector Sigma allows it. Any other information she says she cannot give."

"Cannot? Or will not?" Magnus asked. He took one hand and placed it under her chin, drawing her gaze to him.

Cannot, she affirmed to Morpheus. The consequences . . .

What, 'At'prafen? Are the consequences of telling greater than those of not telling?

Yes.

"My lord, she states she cannot . . . There is something she fears . . . Perhaps we should let her recover her strength from her seizure," Morpheus suggested.

Let me go.

Morpheus looked at her.

That, my dear, will not be possible, he stated.

Please . . . let me go . . . Things will only get worse if you keep me.

My dear, I just told you. We can't let you go.

'At'prafen just stared at him, as if she couldn't believe it. It was like she was accustomed to getting her own way. Morpheus watched her warily.

Then don't say I didn't warn you.

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She turned away at that moment and retreated into her own thoughts. Morpheus stared at her, wondering what 'At'prafen meant, and was half-tempted to find out. Something held him back, though, something he couldn't identify.

"Morpheus?"

He blinked, Lord Magnus' voice snapping him out of his thoughts. It sounded as if 'At'prafen had just threatened them but he couldn't be sure.

"She has nothing further to tell us, my Lord. She hesitates."

"And why does she hesitate, Morpheus?" Magnus demanded quietly, overtones of anger and displeasure in his voice.

"My guess would be from fear, my Lord," the telepath replied. "But not fear of us. Fear of something else." He glanced at his liege. "And I dare not press her any further."

Magnus raised an optic ridge at him. Morpheus didn't know what else to tell him and he was about to say as much when a soft female voice cried out. Both Mechs turned to stare at 'At'prafen just as she scampered off the recharge bed and into the nearest corner. An explosion rocked the base . . .

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"Have they found her yet?"

"No," Morpheus sighed. "Not a sign of her or who aided in her escape, my Lord. She's hidden herself well."

Ultra Magnus grunted but said nothing more. It had been several cycles since 'At'prafen Pax had mysteriously disappeared. He, Morpheus, and First Aid had been knocked unconscious in a series of explosions, and, when they had come to, she was gone and she had taken some of Magnus' own fluids as well. Ultra Magnus had vowed to find her, if only to the wring the truth out of her and find out why she had taken some of his own blood.

"Still wondering about her actions, my liege?"

Ultra Magnus looked at Morpheus then nodded.

"Perhaps a task was set before her," the telepath offered. "It is said Vector Sigma has done that before."

"Perhaps," Magnus rumbled. "In the meantime, keep searching. Lord Prime will not be pleased if he hears that a Femme has escaped Iacon."

"As you wish, my Lord."

Morpheus bowed and left the room, leaving Magnus to his thoughts. He wondered how they were going to find 'At'prafen since she had proven to be quite adept at hiding in the underground caverns, and his mind flashed back once more, giving him no answers. There were none to given.

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'At'prafen wiped away the coolant that kept dripping into her optics. She had paid a terrible price upon escaping from Iacon. Vector Sigma had increased its number from one new life to six and had sent wave after wave of the most excruciating pain through her, even as she set about gathering the materials she needed and throughout the construction. Energon had leaked from her optics at one point and she had been unable to do anything until Vector Sigma had eased up. Now that she had neared the end of her task, Vector Sigma's satisfaction flowed through her and the six bodies that would be her children waited for the combined essences of her and Ultra Magnus to give them life.

"Fen, we're almost ready . . ."

'At'prafen nodded mutely and took the container that held the sacred fluids. For the first time in millennia, she spoke.

"Through the blood of my tears and the strength of your father, I give you life . . ."

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Vector Sigma hovered in its chamber, in the very heart of Cybertron. Pleasure in its cruelty emanated from the sphere as 'At'prafen, along with the others, preformed the ceremony that would give others life. It had always been that way and always would be. Vector Sigma would see to it in the end.