Introduction: Continuation of the last few chapters.

It had taken more than a quartex for Maccadam to piece Vector back together. That was longer than it should have taken, but he'd needed to rest a lot while he'd been recovering from the Quintessons' poison.

Liege was still feeling the effects of it.

That stuff was nasty strong, and there wasn't much you could do about curing it, because the main damage was to your spark and your core.

The door opened and Alpha Trion and Logos came in. Maccadam didn't want to overwhelm Vector when he came online, but the two of them had promised not to ask any questions yet.

"You ready?" Logos asked.

Maccadam nodded and waved for them to sit in the chairs by the side of the room.

It was the moment of truth.

He started bringing Vector out of stasis. Since he didn't know how long his brother had been unconscious, or what kind of processor damage he might have, Maccadam took it slow, watching the readings on the screens.

As he'd expected, there were some irregularities. Certain parts of Vector's processor didn't come online in the right order or seemed stuck for a few astroseconds.

Vector's spark reacted poorly to coming online too, sputtering and waning. Maccadam was glad he hadn't removed the spark support, even after Vector's spark had stabilized in stasis.

Then Vector's optics lit up—their usual sky blue.

"Vec?" Maccadam said softly.

Vector stared blankly at the ceiling for an astrosecond.

Then his optics focused and an instant later, he disappeared with a quiet popping noise, leaving the berth empty.

Maccadam's medical equipment filled the atmosphere with distressed beeping. He took a step back from the berth, panicking as well. He hadn't thought about Vector's ability to teleport.

He could be anywhere. He could be halfway across the galaxy, or back with the Quintessons.

"Fantastic." Logos said.

There was a clatter from the hall.

Maccadam rushed out of the room to see Vector on his hands and knees.

"Vec." He knelt by his brother. "It's okay, you're safe."

Vector looked up at him slowly with a hollow loathing expression.

Then he collapsed to the ground.

"Well, that doesn't seem promising," Alpha Trion said from behind him.

"Thanks for the observation," Maccadam scooped Vector up and carried him back into the medical room. He hooked the mech back up to everything. He was unconscious again, but not quite in stasis, so Maccadam would wait for him to come online naturally next time.

"I saw the way he looked at you," Logos said. "It might be better to keep him in stasis for the time being."

Maccadam shook his helm, watching his unconscious brother, listening to Vector's slow, smooth venting.

"Alchemist—"

"No."

"But even if he goes back to acting normal, the Quintessons are probably still spying through him. Besides, it's not worth the risk. Can you imagine how much damage he could do if he's working for them?"

"You think they would have kept him locked up if they had control of him?"

"If he was more useful to them locked up, feeding them information directly, then yes. It took him less than an astrosecond to leave us. If things go bad, there's no way we'll be able to capture and contain him."

Maccadam was tired of arguing. He saw Logos's point—he knew it was a risk.

But he couldn't help taking it. He needed to try. If they could get Vector back somehow—if there was anything they could do…

"Well?" Logos said.

"I hear you."

"So you'll put him in stasis."

"We can't get him back by putting him in stasis."

"But we can't prevent him from teleporting away. I'm not even sure how the Quintessons managed that."

"I'm not the one you should be arguing with," Maccadam said. "Take it up with Alpha Trion—he's the one in charge."

Logos narrowed his optics. They both knew he could convince Alpha Trion that they needed to put Vector in Stasis, but that Maccadam would be able to talk him out of it again.

"We both know—"

"I know what we both know," Maccadam said.

"Then you understand why I'm here, trying to convince you that this is the right thing to do."

"Give me some time, all right?" Maccadam said. "Vector's so weak, I doubt he'll be able to do anything right now, even if he wakes up." He'd spent so long repairing his brother, trying to hope for the best. He couldn't give up now.

"So you're determined."

Maccadam didn't answer.

"Why does no one listen to me?" Logos moaned. "Why do you refuse to take this seriously? Vector could be the biggest threat the galaxy has seen since Unicron!"

"We took Unicron down, didn't we?"

"Yes," Logos said, rolling his optics. "Back when we had all twelve of us and death only lasted a few breems." He turned and stormed out of the room.

Maccadam let him go. He couldn't chase after him and leave Vector behind. He didn't know when the damaged mech would come back online, so he had to keep watch.

He sat down on a bench to the side of the room with a sigh, trying not to think about what Logos had said. He was afraid. There had been something hateful and alien in Vector's optics.

He knew how the Quintessons fought, winning battles by turning friends on each other, defeating mecha with their own kind.

If they'd managed to turn Vector, it might be the death of all of them.

But he still thought that if the Quintessons had truly turned him, they would have let him go. They would have let him come back, pretending to be normal.

But you couldn't be sure. Sometimes the Quintessons did things that didn't make sense—or that didn't seem to make sense until you came around the last corner and realized that you'd been doing exactly what they wanted you to do the entire time.

And until you went around that corner…

All you could do was wait.

So Maccadam waited.

And waited.

He recharged in short naps, after rigging his equipment to set off an alarm if Vector's condition changed.

It was an orn and a half before he woke again.

Maccadam was awake, so he shut his alarm off as soon as it sounded and crossed the room to kneel by Vector's berth. He commed the others to let them know that Vector was coming back online, and then waited, watching his brother's faceplate carefully.

He ignored the replies he got from Logos and Quintus as Vector's optics lit up again.

"Vec," he said quietly. "Don't go anywhere, all right? You're safe here, and I don't think your spark could handle a big jump right now anyway. You only made it out into the hall last time."

Vector didn't look at him, but raised a trembling arm instead, studying it with horror written on his faceplate.

"No…" he said, closing his fist. "No, my hand… I thought… I… I…"

"Vec?"

Vector shuttered his optics and let his hand clang back to the berth. "No…"

"Vec, I… oh, the hand. Yeah, I put it back on. You sent it to us, remember? With your coordinates—"

"Don't say that!" Vector shot up to a sitting position, yanking off the spark monitor he was hooked up to. "I did no such thing!"

"Vec, calm down." Maccadam said, cautiously putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Look at me."

Slowly, Vector turned his helm. He froze when their optics met. Maccadam had intended to assure him that everything was going to be all right, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to. Those words sounded cheap in his helm.

And Vector probably already knew the state the world was in. Lying to him was pointless.

"You should lie down," he said instead.

Vector seemed hesitant—almost mistrustful at first, but then he let Maccadam help him lie back down. He shuttered his optics, but there was too much tension in his faceplate for him to be unconscious.

Silence fell.

"So…" Vector said quietly. "What's the date?"

Maccadam hesitated.

"It's important," Vector said. "I can't remember how long ago I was taken, but the length of time they had me is important."

Maccadam wasn't sure. Vector was almost being too calm now.

"Mac?"

"Are you…"

"For the love of Primus, just tell me!" Vector's optics snapped open again, and he turned to stare at Maccadam with wild, frightened optics.

"Okay," Maccadam said and told Vector the date.

Vector sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Maccadam couldn't tell if the date was good news or bad news.

"So…" he said at length. "When you say you didn't send that hand…"

"I'm sorry," Vector said. "I didn't want them to…" he shuddered. "If they… I couldn't…"

"Vec, calm down," Maccadam put a hand on his shoulder again.

Vector burst into desperate sobbing, but he didn't push Maccadam's hand away, so Maccadam left it there, feeling awkward. It was uncharacteristic of Vector to show so much emotion, but somehow it was more comforting than if he'd been acting completely normal.

After a few breems, he calmed down.

"Apologies," he said. "Maccadam, I did send you the hand. I simply had to be careful to hide that fact, because if they'd discovered I'd sent you a message, they would have been ready for you, and we'd all have offlined when you tried to rescue me. I wanted to wait until you found me on your own, because that was safer and Solus wouldn't have offlined..."

"Vec."

"And I couldn't remember how things went... maybe I deleted that, for the sake of the continuum. But either way, I'm so sorry. I don't think I could have waited that long."

"How long?" Mac said.

"Just another vorn or two, but still..."

Maccadam frowned. "How long did they have you?"

Vector didn't answer.

Maccadam wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. But at the same time. "Vector?"

"I don't want you to…"

"Please."

Vector sighed again. "Eleven vorns."

Maccadam sat back, taking his hand off of his brother's shoulder. They'd known it had been a long time, from the state of Onyx's frame when they'd found it. But not that long. And he hadn't really thought about what that would be like. Eleven vorns as a prisoner of the Quintessons.

How was Vector even sane enough to have a conversation?

"I'm sorry Onyx is dead." Vector whispered. "And Prima, Solus, and Mal too."

"It's not your fault."

"I did try to prevent all of that, but Logos and Mal were too stubborn and I couldn't explain to them why it was so important for Mal to stay with me instead of Onyx, not without telling them things they weren't supposed to know."

"It's not your fault," Maccadam repeated.

"I know it's not, but I'm still sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Maccadam said, guilt rising in his core. "We… didn't even notice you were gone until recently."

"You'd have just been confused and worried about it," Vector said. "You wouldn't have found me, not until about now anyway."

"You… you must have let them capture you."

Vector met his gaze. "They trapped me," he said with sorrow in his optics, and an almost pleading look.

"But you could have warned us. You could have said something. And about Cybertron going dark and the Quintessons controlling the Council."

Vector flinched.

"Sorry," Maccadam said. "I'm not angry, just…"

"You have every right to be angry. Alpha Trion knew about the war, but only I knew that Primus would die."

Maccadam's spark sank. "So he's really dead, then?"

"Yes," Vector gave him the same look.

That meant… "He's… never coming back? And Onyx and Solus and Prima and Mal…?"

Vector looked away. "You're asking me the wrong questions, Maccadam. I can't give you the answers you want to hear. Please…"

Maccadam looked away too, ashamed. He'd made everyone else promise not to interrogate Vector the moment he woke up, and here he was, bringing up painful topics. "Sorry, you're right, I shouldn't be asking you things like this right now. Are you all right? Are you in pain at all?"

"Not physically," Vector said softly. "Thank you for that, by the way. It must have taken a lot of effort to repair me."

"Well, you'll be tired," Maccadam said. "It will take your spark some time to recover."

Vector huffed a quiet laugh, and then his lip plates parted and he uttered a short phrase of agreement in the Quintesson slave language that translated to something like "As the Great Hive wills it."

"Uh, Vec?"

Vector shuddered again. "Put… put me under."

"Are you…"

"Ask me one more question," Vector said. "Ask me what Logos would want to ask—what he wouldn't need to ask, because he knows the answer already."

Maccadam recalled his conversation with Logos. "I don't…"

"You have to know," Vector said. "But I can't say it. Please."

Maccadam steeled himself. "Vector, can we trust you?"

Vector trembled, gritting his denta.

"Vec?"

He met Maccadam's optics and choked out one word.

"No."

Alpha Trion burst into the room, ready for anything. But Maccadam was just sitting by the berth where Vector lay still and silent.

"Alchemist!" Alpha Trion said as anger welled up inside of him. "Why weren't you answering your comm? I thought he'd killed you or something!"

Maccadam didn't move.

"Alchemist?" Alpha Trion approached him from behind. "What? Are you all right?"

Maccadam turned to look at him. He had a large dent in his faceplate, but didn't look hurt apart from that.

"What happened?"

Maccadam bowed his helm.

"Tell me what happened."

"Nothing," Maccadam said. "He woke up. He… we talked for several breems…"

"And then?"

"He attacked me."

Alpha Trion bowed his helm. He'd been afraid of this.

"I think he's still in there somewhere."

"Oh, he's in there, all right," Alpha Trion said. "Fighting as hard as he can, no doubt. If you had a whole conversation with him… what did you talk about, by the way?"

Maccadam started to say something, but Alpha Trion cut him off.

"On second thought, we should discuss this elsewhere, out of his hearing."

"I'm not going to leave him alone."

Maccadam had been so stubborn about this. Stubborn like he'd been stubborn about Unicron's dustborn and Megatronus's second chance. It was the stubborn determination of a mech who knew he was fighting a losing battle.

It frightened Alpha Trion. Because this time, he didn't want Maccadam to lose. He didn't want Vector to be beyond saving.

"Then just step outside for a few breems," he said. "Come on. I need to hear what you and Vector talked about."

That made a big difference. Depending on what Vector had said, Alpha Trion might be able to figure out whether he was trustworthy.

Maccadam sighed. "Fine. Where's Logos? I don't want to have to repeat it."

"I don't know where he is. Sulking, probably. He came to complain to me about how you're treating the situation."

Maccadam led the way out into the hall and Alpha Trion followed.

"I don't want to put Vector in stasis," Alpha Trion continued. "I'll side with you on this one, against Logos and Liege… but I also want you to think carefully about whether we can trust Vector."

The door slid shut behind him.

"So, what did he say?"

"There were only a few things that seemed important—things we didn't already know." Maccadam looked down.

Obviously, those things were all bad news.

"For one, he confirmed that Primus is offline."

Interesting… because if Vector knew anything... Alpha Trion had spoken to Optimus, who'd told him that Primus could be revived. Optimus had also insisted that this information needed to be kept secret.

And that made sense. That made a lot of sense. Vector must be keeping the secret as well.

"He also said we couldn't trust him, right before he attacked me," Maccadam said.

That was a little more worrying.

"Don't tell Logos that."

"Don't worry, Logos already doesn't trust him."

"He's in there, though, I know it," Maccadam said. "He's fighting it. I mean, he seemed like himself for some of the conversation… though…"

"What?"

"Alph, they had him for eleven vorns."

Alpha Trion stared, spark sinking. That was too long. No one—not even Vector...

"I can't even imagine…"

"We have to be careful what we say around him," Alpha Trion said. The fact that Vector was lying about Primus made him think the Quintessons must still be watching somehow. That meant Alpha Trion would have to continue to keep the secret from his siblings.

It would be hard on them, believing that their Creator was dead. Believing that they'd never see the others again, at least not until they joined the Well of Allsparks.

"Alph?"

"Hmm…"

"Something wrong?"

"I'm just thinking… about what we should do. About what we have to do."

"I don't want to put Vector in a stasis pod. We need his help. Besides…"

"I told you I'd side with you," Alpha Trion said. "Logos is right to be concerned. But Primus had some kind of plan before he left us, and Vector is probably the only mech who knows more about that plan than I do. So even though he claims we can't trust him… we have to keep him involved, in case he has some part to play."

Maccadam looked troubled.

"What?"

"I… nothing."

There was that stubbornness again.

But Alpha Trion wasn't sure anymore. If Vector himself had claimed he wasn't trustworthy…

That didn't bode well.

Logos didn't like any of this. He could tell his siblings were hiding something about Vector from him. And that wasn't all—that wasn't the only reason he was worried.

He didn't like being kept out of the loop. He didn't like not knowing. They couldn't get information from Primus, and no information coming from Vector could be trusted, no matter what Maccadam said.

The fact that Vector was sane enough to have a conversation meant nothing.

Someone knocked at Logos's door. He was staying in one of Maccadam's numerous spare rooms. Just like Alpha Trion's lair, Maccadam's was built to last an apocalypse or two, and had many underground rooms with reinforced walls, full of energon, equipment, technology, and even weapons.

The knock came again, and Logos sighed, hoping whoever it was would go away. He was thinking. He had to figure this out. Obviously Primus had had a plan, and obviously Vector had had a plan, but they'd both rendered themselves completely and irredeemably useless. There was no way Vector would ever be trustworthy again.

The door opened and Maccadam came in.

"If you don't mind, I'm trying to figure out what to do next," Logos said. "And—"

"Sorry to bother you," Maccadam said. "But Vec's awake again. You should come talk to him."

"I'd rather not. I still don't think it's safe. I don't think any of you should be talking to him."

"Come on, he's not—"

"Not dangerous? Where'd you get that dent in your faceplate, then? Did you trip and fall?"

"Logos…"

"Are you really so blind—"

"He's asking for you," Maccadam said. "He wants all of us there. He said he has something important to tell us."

"And can you be sure it's not some sort of trap? Can you be certain he's not being controlled by the Quintessons?"

"We can't be certain, I suppose, but if he is still being influenced by them, he's fighting it."

"If?" Logos said. "Maccadam, you as good as admitted that he attacked you last time he was online!"

"But he's—"

"Of course he's fighting it!" Logos said. "Or at least pretending to. You can't be certain how deep the Quintessons' hold on him is. Why did he let himself get captured? He didn't have to. He could have teleported away. He must have known about the Quintessons controlling the Council. He must have known they'd find him and try to abduct him. They may have been influencing him since… I don't know, they might have gotten their tentacles wrapped around him back during the first Quintesson war for all we know."

Maccadam was silent.

"I know you care about him. I care about him too. But if we let him help us, he'll give us to the Quintessons."

"For what purpose?" Maccadam asked. "Primus is… gone. They can't use us to take over the universe."

"Do you actually understand what Vector's capable of? He guides the timeline, making sure everything turns out for Cybertron's benefit. Do you really want him to use his powers to help the Quintessons? They might not even need Cyberton if they had Vector on their side."

Maccadam sighed. "Look, you're entitled to your opinion, but please come talk to Vector, just this once."

"It won't change my mind," Logos said. "And you can't guilt me out of this, Maccadam, we're talking about the safety of the entire universe here, not just our little backwater galaxy. We can't take risks just because we want to keep our brother around for company."

Alpha Trion came up behind Maccadam. "What's going on?"

"I don't think we should be talking to Vector," Logos said. "I don't think we should be doing anything he tells us to."

Alpha Trion had to understand. He was more logical, more careful.

"Logos…"

"What?" Logos demanded. "Are you really that stupid? Are you all being controlled by the Quintessons too?"

"We're following Primus's plan," Alpha Trion said. "Written in the Covenant."

"Why would he plan something like…" Logos sighed, shuttering his optics. It didn't make sense. How could Primus plan his own death? Was it really some kind of final bid to convince the Quintessons to leave them alone? Was it really worth that? Would it really even work? The Quintessons were resourceful. They would surely return again.

"I have reason to believe that Vector is… not entirely under their control," Alpha Trion said. "I can't share this reason with you yet, but some orn, I promise I will. I also have reason to believe that Vector can't be trusted completely. But we need to hear what he has to say to us, and you have to be there. It is likely that he'll attempt to hide or encode his true message, in the hopes that the Quintessons won't be able to decipher it. Which means I need you to help me listen."

Logos looked down.

"In addition, as our leader, I insist that you come. Please, it's not as if he can corrupt us just by looking at us."

"I'll think it over."

"We don't have time—"

"Fine," Logos snapped. "I'll come."

Alpha Trion led the way into the room, with Maccadam and Logos following him. The others were already here, waiting.

Vector looked at Logos, and smiled slightly, then shuttered his optics and turned his helm so he was facing the ceiling.

"We're all here," Alpha Trion said. "Vector, you said you had something to tell all of us."

"Yes," Vector said, then took in a deep, slow vent, clenching his fists, and muttered something to himself.

He looked so tense. Whatever it was that he needed to say, it would obviously be a struggle for him.

Maccadam seemed to think so too. He approached the berth. "Vec, don't strain yourself. Your spark's still—"

"Get back!" Vector snapped. "You're too soft. All of you! It's unbelievable."

"Vec…"

"I'm sorry, Alchemist," Vector said. "I just… before I say what I brought you here to say, I need you to tell me what your plans are. What you plan to do with me, at least."

"Why do you want to know that?" Logos demanded.

"So I can explain why it's a terrible plan," Vector said.

"There's no way we can trust you," Logos said, approaching the berth. "In fact, it's dangerous to have you conscious."

Maccadam shifted, but Alpha Trion stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. "Let them talk," he said quietly.

This was important. Vector and Logos often understood one another when no one else did. They needed to communicate. Vector could only tell Alpha Trion what to do through Logos.

"You're right," Vector said. "They…see what I see. And hear what I…" He choked off, trembling. "But…" he said. "But you can't put me in stasis."

"Why not?" Logos asked coldly. "If we put you in stasis, then you won't see or hear anything, and the Quintessons won't be able to spy on us."

"You can't put me in stasis because you need my help," Vector said, calm again. "You can't win without me."

Interesting. Perhaps Vector wanted them to help him get rid of the Quintesson reprogramming somehow. But that would be difficult—impossible even—without a mnemosurgeon. And that technique had been lost a long time ago.

"So—"

"Logos, I'm old," Vector spoke softly into the quiet. "I've seen the end of the war, the end of Cybertron, and after."

Logos's helm tilted to the side slightly.

"I know how everything is supposed to go. You can't trust me now, but I'm begging you, please… don't put me in stasis. If I'm shoved in a stasis pod somewhere, It will prevent me from coming to help you. Do you understand me?"

"I… think so," Logos said. "But…"

"Be certain," Vector said. "And make sure to note the time."

"You haven't given me enough of a reason to trust you," Logos said. "This isn't a decision to be made lightly."

"Neither was my decision," Vector said, smiling up at the ceiling. "Come on, Logos, I don't have to tell you what to do. You know how I operate, and if you trust me, I'll be there to help you, I promise."

"I…" Logos seemed at a loss for words, which wasn't a good sign. "Vec, I can't…"

"That's why the others are here," Vector said. "Just talk them into trusting me."

"What the frag is going on?" Liege demanded.

"Shh," Alpha Trion hissed, though he was just as confused.

Logos took in a deep vent. "All right," he said. "We won't put you in stasis, and I'll trust you on this. But I swear, Vector, if you're lying to me…"

"If I'm lying to you, it's still your best option," Vector said. "Go convince the others—out of hearing range, if you don't mind."

Logos sighed. "Come on," he said. "Mac, you stay here."

"Why?" Maccadam demanded.

"Because," Logos said. "You already trust him. I don't need to convince you."

"Please stay," Alpha Trion said.

"I don't like this." Maccadam said.

"I know," Alpha Trion replied. "Don't worry, I told you, I'm siding with you on this."

It wasn't necessarily true at this point. Whatever Vector had communicated to Logos, it had to be something Maccadam wouldn't like. But Alpha Trion trusted Logos, and he wanted to trust Vector too.

It depended, he supposed, on what Vector's message had been.

Maccadam waited anxiously for the others to return. He wasn't sure what they were discussing, but he had a bad feeling about it. Some of the things Vector had said…

"Hey, Vec?"

Vector turned to look at him, smiling slightly. "Yes?"

"Are you… I suppose you can't explain to me what you were trying to tell Logos."

Vector raised an optic ridge. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I talked him into trusting me, and out of putting me in stasis, just like I'm sure you wanted."

Maccadam frowned, but he couldn't push for more answers. He heard raised voices out in the hall—Quintus's voice in particular, and then Logos's. But the door was closed, and he couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Hold on a moment." He crossed the room.

"Don't go," Vector said. "Please just wait."

Maccadam sighed and walked away from the door again. "I'm sorry. I'm just concerned. Something about this feels—"

"You know, Logos said that you already trust me," Vector cut in.

Maccadam turned to see his brother staring at him intently.

"But I think you don't."

Maccadam looked at the ground.

"Mac."

"You told me not to trust you."

"I know. And then you didn't listen to me and I put that dent in your faceplate. You don't even trust me when I tell you not to trust me. But please, trust me now. And trust Logos and Alpha Trion, and let them do what I've asked them to."

Maccadam looked up sharply. "And what exactly is that?"

"You'll see in a breem," Vector said, glancing at the door. Maccadam couldn't hear anyone talking out in the hall anymore.

He had the strong urge to lock them out, but he didn't move quickly enough. The door opened and Liege led the way in, wearing a guarded expression. He wouldn't meet Maccadam's gaze.

Maccadam stepped in between them and the berth Vector was on as they filed into the room.

"See," Alpha Trion said, glancing at Nexus. "I told you."

"Will someone explain to me what's going on?" Maccadam asked.

"Of course," Alpha Trion said. "Come out in the hall with me and I'll tell you. We need you to weigh in on the subject before we make a final decision anyway."

Maccadam sighed and walked past them toward the door.

But then he stopped.

"Alchemist?" Alpha Trion said.

Maccadam took a step backward, but Nexus grabbed him from behind.

"Hey!" He struggled, pivoting, trying to break free and get back to guarding Vector's berth, but Alpha Trion came to help hold him back. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Nexus, I'd almost convinced him!" Alpha Trion said.

"Sorry," Nexus replied. "But I think we just need to get this over with."

"No!" Maccadam fought harder as he watched Logos and Liege approached the berth.

Vector shuttered his optics and turned his helm so he was facing away from them.

"What are you doing?" Maccadam demanded. "Stop!"

But he couldn't move—couldn't do anything—as he watched Liege pull a heavy javelin from subspace and bring it down in one smooth motion to pierce through Vector's spark.

Vector couldn't recharge, despite how tired he was.

He was ahead on his work, though he'd lied and told Onyx he was getting behind. He didn't want his brother to start asking difficult questions about why he only came back to the present in order to recharge, and then left the moment he came online again.

He'd needed to prepare the continuum for a large disturbance that he wouldn't be able to deal with for a long time. He also had to do a lot of repair work later on because he was going to spend the next fifteen vorns out of commission.

There was even a slight possibility they wouldn't find him for twenty vorns, or more.

It was just a slight possibility.

But he had to take it into account anyway.

Astroseconds ticked down.

He only had three breems left.

Onyx was curled up in predacon form, taking up half the room. Vector wanted to wake him and talk to him. He knew he wouldn't have another chance, potentially for the rest of his life. Well, there was a slight chance he'd be able to convince the mech to go for help instead of stay and defend him.

He'd have to time it perfectly, though. The comms were already down. Onyx would need to leave before it was too late, but not with enough time to actually get help.

It would take approximately a breem for Onyx to get out of range of the comm block. And then at least another breem for Maccadam and Alchemist to get the spacebridge open.

Vector took in a deep vent.

He wished he didn't have to do this. At least the easy part came first. He'd wait until he was certain Primus was back online to tackle the more difficult ordeal.

"Onyx?" he said.

Onyx didn't move.

Vector got up from the table. "Onyx, wake up."

The predacon stirred, then un-shuttered his glowing yellow optics and blinked several times.

Vector watched him yawn and stretch his long neck.

"Something's wrong."

The predacon nodded, then transformed.

"What is it?" Onyx asked, ambling over to stand across the small table from Vector.

Vector looked down, counting astroseconds.

"Vec?"

"The comms just went down," Vector said. "I need you to do something for me."

"Okay," Onyx frowned. "The comms are down? Why?"

"Take my warp ship, make sure the cloaking's on, and leave this station. As soon as you're out of range of this comm. block, contact Alpha Trion and Alchemist. Ask them to come here and help."

Onyx hesitated.

"Please, you need to go."

"Is someone attacking us?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

Vector sighed. "We don't have time for this."

"Then just teleport us out of here."

"I have to clear all the data off of my computers," Vector said. It was a lie. He'd cleared everything off of the computer system the orn before.

"You didn't foresee this?"

"No." Vector lied again. "I didn't know until a breem ago. And that frightens me. And just in case I—"

There was a loud thud and the floor jerked beneath them. Something had hit the station.

"How long do you need?" Onyx asked.

"What?"

"To clear everything off of your computers. Whoever this is, I can probably buy you some time."

"No, Onyx, I need you to leave."

Onyx shook his helm. "I will not abandon you. I can tell from the way you're talking that you don't expect calling for help to work. But if I buy you a breem or two, you'll be able to teleport away."

Vector shook his helm. "That's not—"

"What are you worried about?" Onyx said. "Whoever it is, I won't let them capture me."

But death was a lot more permanent now.

Vector couldn't tell him that.

Vector couldn't explain that it was the Quintessons outside, and that he had to let them capture him. It was part of the plan, to buy Primus some more time. The champion hadn't even been sparked yet.

"Please trust me," Vector said. "You have to leave."

Onyx shook his helm grimly. "You're running out of time to delete all that data. You'd better go."

Vector gave in. He'd tried, but he'd known it would go this way. "Good luck," he said, then turned and hurried from the room as something else hit the station.

He clung to the wall as everything lurched and trembled. The next projectile would breach the station walls, and Onyx would be swept out of the ship when it depressurized. It would injure him.

Then he'd face off against the Quintessons with their swarm ships and their battle station.

He would offline.

Vector would have to abandon Onyx to his fate. He would jump into the future, to help with the war, and then at some long distant time, when he could afford to be killed, he would jump back and allow the Quintessons to capture him.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, but at least he didn't have to worry about it yet. And his siblings would rescue him eventually—either that or they'd try and end up offline. Both outcomes would invariably end with him dead, so as long as Vector jumped far enough ahead, he'd be in the clear.

Vector checked his internal timepiece and made a note in his mental log.

[V. 63,999,239 Q. 1 q. 15 o. 2 j. 24 b. 12. a. 38:00: Get captured by the Quintessons.]

Then he waited until the exact moment, and jumped forward, teleporting at the same time.

And was suddenly in darkness. His optics brightened automatically, showing him the shelves of datapads in front of him. It seemed Alpha Trion was still collecting books. The last time he'd been in this part of the archives, this row had been mostly empty.

Vector shuttered his optics, waiting for half a breem, just in case. But he couldn't feel the universe unraveling, so he must have jumped far enough.

Good.

He turned around and looked at the wall behind him. It was covered in crossed out times, some written in his own hand, others in Alpha Trion's or Logos's or Quintus's.

He had to be careful. Traveling through time required so much precision. He couldn't have multiple copies of himself running around at once, so he had to jump carefully, making sure he didn't overlap at any time. He had to be especially careful about jumping backward, because unless he went back to the exact moment he'd jumped forward, jumping backward always made a mess.

And this particular maneuver would require him to jump backward twice. Once now, and once far in the future, when he had to return to witness Onyx's death and let the Quintessons capture him.

He found a time that hadn't been crossed out. It was etched into the wall in Alpha Trion's even glyphs.

[V. 63,999,250 Q. 3 q. 30 o. 1 j. 7 b. 9 a. 13:15: Death]

That was a little earlier than he'd expected. That meant Solus was offline.

Vector considered. Getting there would be an unanchored backward jump, which would cost Vector quartexes of work. But if he didn't do it—if he just stayed in the current time—his remaining siblings would all be very upset with him. Not to mention, he'd lose nine vorns where he could have been working.

He had to go.

He scratched out what Alpha Trion had written and then braced himself and jumped again—backward this time, and only a short distance.

"No!"

His optics had to adjust to the light again, as the hallway materialized around him. He could already feel the time stream twisting and slanting. It was a bit off-balance anyway, probably from his other backward jump.

"Why would you…"

Maccadam's angry, horrified voice emanated from the open door. The timing must have been good. They must have just killed him, probably at his own request.

Vector was a bit curious to see his own offline frame, but he didn't dare go in there. The last thing he wanted was for the Quintessons to find out he was alive and well, and free of their influence.

Well, as free as anyone could be.

You never could tell with the Quintessons.

"Don't you dare walk away! Logos!"

Vector looked up as his brother stepped out into the hall.

Logos froze for a moment, then approached cautiously. "Are you…" he whispered.

"Really here, yes," Vector said quietly. "We should—"

Logos threw his arms around Vector and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Vector tried to push him off. "Really, Logos? I'm fine, let go."

"I was half convinced you were just trying to get us to kill you because you didn't want to live anymore," Logos whispered. "That was terrifying, Vec."

Vector hesitated, then reluctantly returned his brother's embrace. He could hear the others arguing back in the room, or at least trying to prevent Maccadam from chasing after Logos. Poor Maccadam. Had they not explained what was going on?

He would probably have protested either way.

But Vector couldn't go in there and let them know he was fine. Even here was too close—they might hear something. "I'll wait in the meeting room," he said. "You dispose of the body. Smelt it down if you can. Then gather everyone. We have a lot of work to do, and I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

Logos nodded and released him. Vector met his brother's gaze long enough to recognize the hint of suspicion in his optics, then teleported to the meeting room.

He took his spot at the empty table and waited. He didn't blame Logos for being wary of him. After all, there were things that didn't add up still. Things that didn't make sense—even to Vector. The battle of wits and resources between Primus and the Quintessons had been going on for hundreds of vorns and it was sometimes difficult to see who was winning. Right now it looked like both sides had lost, but he knew Primus had back-up plans, and he had no doubt the Quintessons did too. He didn't truly comprehend the actions of either side. Even after all his conversations with his Creator, and all of his sojourns into the future, he couldn't explain why the Great War had to happen. All he knew was that it was destined, inevitable, chosen. He wasn't even sure if it was Primus doing the choosing.

There were other cosmic forces out there too, playing their own games, watching, occasionally involving themselves. And who knew what beings lurked in the universal background noise, guiding timelines, revising the future, serving their own unknowable ends. It was sometimes even difficult for Vector to determine who or what was pulling the strings.