"A tattoo?" I warily asked. I was in the med bay, it was 07:00 hours, and I was reporting with my dad to Ratchet for my Autobot insignia. I had thought it would be a bracelet or something.

"It won't hurt," he assured me, "and the ink is laced with a compound that will practically shine on Cybertronian sensors. Even on a passive scan and with your insignia hidden under clothing, any Autobot would recognize you as part of their faction. Both Trailbreaker and Optimus have indicated that more Autobots will be arriving in the relatively near future, so having you properly identified could be very important."

"Spitfire has hers on her ankle," Arcee pointed out.

"And Dad has his on his bicep," I answered, glancing over at him. He didn't go half-way with anything. He'd had it for as long as I could remember, but I didn't realize Mom had one, too. "Okay, but make it small and inconspicuous. I do occasionally go swimming with people who aren't supposed to know who the Autobots are."

"It can be as small as a dime and still serve its function," Ratchet said. "And we Autobots understand hiding in plain sight."

I grinned. "True. How 'bout on my hip? That way even a bikini will cover it."

One of Arcee's hands transformed into something that looked almost like a rubber stamp and she stepped closer. I pulled the waistband of my shorts down a little bit so the tattoo would be hidden, and she pressed the stamp thingy firmly into my skin. I winced a little because she was pushing so hard, but Ratchet was right, of course, and there was no sting afterward. I lightly ran my thumb over the dark-crimson symbol, but the ink didn't smudge. This mark was much more than skin deep.

Taking a deep breath, I looked at them both. It was official now – I wore the brand. I was an Autobot.

…

Dad escorted me to a conference room where Mr. Witwicky was waiting for me. Samuel Prime. Seeing him here was almost as dizzying as seeing Ironhide in his holoform after he was injured. For being an important grown up, Mr. Witwicky had always seemed a little…goofy. I just couldn't reconcile the idea of Sam and Mikaela Witwicky kissing under the mistletoe in our living room two Christmases ago with Samuel Prime holding the Matrix of Leadership while his mate Warrior Goddess looked on.

'Well,' I thought to myself as I took the seat Dad pulled out from the table for me, 'at least I'm not screaming at him for being an Autobot, unlike with Hyde.'

Mr. Witwicky looked at me expectantly. "Bra and panties?"

I blushed scarlet and ducked my head.

He chuckled. "No, don't be embarrassed. It was a great line. Much more fun than I usually come up with. It's one of the advantages of being young – you can be a smart-aft a lot more easily. But that's something that will have to change, I'm afraid." Seeing my face fall at that, he added, "Eventually. But we'll start you out easy. First things first. Your official Autobot title is junior officer of terran acclimatization and human integration."

"Um…" My eyes widened. "Can you repeat that please, Mr. Witwicky?"

He chuckled. "Sam. If you can call the true Prime and Leader of the Autobots Optimus, you can call me Sam. You're serving under me, Firebrand, but Optimus considers all Autobots brothers and sisters. We are equals. If you chose to follow me, you submit to my authority, but I am not inherently better than you. Call me Sam, and call Mikaela by her first name, too. You're welcome to continue to use parental titles for Spitfire and Iron Will, though."

"Okay…then…Can you repeat that title for me, Samuel?" (If most of the Autobots refused to call him Sam, I wasn't going to be the slagger who broke rank.)

He chuckled and passed me a tablet – another piece of Autobot-enhanced technology, I was sure. "Sorry. Prowl likes Autobot titles to be precise and inclusive. Here's everything you need to know about your duties and assignments. Your mother is the senior officer, you're the junior. Terran acclimatization means you help the Autobots adjust to life on Earth generally by being the first person they can go to when they have questions." He smiled a little ruefully. "We humans are pretty hard to understand sometimes, even by ourselves. I'll warn you now, though, that they'll ask some crazy questions. Tough ones, sometimes, and often embarrassing. Just remember that they don't understand. Put your embarrassment on a shelf and be honest."

The most recent arrivals on Earth before Trailbreaker's group would have been Mia and 'Jack, and I remember 'Jack in particular asking some weird questions, but Mom had never batted an eyelash. "I think I can do that."

"Good. Human integration means you help them adjust their holoforms' mannerisms and expressions to blend in better. They've developed a library of subroutines for things like smiling and body language, so the new 'bots will pick up being human a lot more quickly than Optimus' original team. Because of the titles you and Spitfire share, the mechs will expect correction from you. You are a human Autobot and I expect you to do your part."

"Yes, sir," I automatically answered.

His smile was genuine this time. "Remember your protocol, Firebrand. I'm not your superior."

I bit my lip and tried again. "Yes, Prime?"

He nodded, accepting that. "Now…the new Autobots will be coming back to D.C. with me at the end of the holiday weekend, so your duties will be virtually non-existent while we're gone. I have a secondary assignment for you, though, if you're willing."

Remembering my wish to do something, anything to help when Ironhide was wounded, I said, "Anything I can do, I will."

"I'd also like you to be the assistant civilian Autobot ambassador here on Diego Garcia. It would be your responsibility to accompany civilian human dignitaries on the base, along with their military escort. As long as you keep your grades up, you will be excused from school to perform your duties as ambassador."

"Ambassador?" I squeaked. "Me? After verbally flipping off the Senatorial liaison?"

He grinned widely. "I'd say that makes you uniquely qualified. You handled yourself well. You kept your head, thought before you spoke, and were willing to lock horns with Joe Marshall, a person of authority who was outright antagonistic. And best of all, you're young. You can get away with saying things I can't. Not anymore. They might not listen, but you'll still be able to speak freely."

"But…won't they think less of the Autobots if they have a kid speaking for them?"

"Not if that kid is you. In the last week, I've heard your name spoken on Capitol Hill, Firebrand. Some people were derogatory, many laughed behind their hands, and one even asked to meet you. That one will be arriving here Saturday morning."

"Whoa."

He chuckled. "You're rolling with the big boys. We've shielded you from that as much as possible, but when your life is tangled up with Autobots, you find yourself in places and doing things you wouldn't dream of in a million years. I know."

I just stared at him, thunderstruck.

Mr. Witwicky glanced at Dad. "Does she know my history?"

"No."

"Then maybe this will help you, Firebrand. When I was sixteen, my dad bought me a car. A piece of crap yellow Camaro with racing stripes."

"Bumblebee?! You boughtBumblebee?"

His eyes were distant, nostalgic, and he leaned back in his chair. "Yeah. I'm still not sure how that slimeball of a salesman made that one look legal, but he did. After picking up my friend Miles, I drove my new-old car to a nearby lake…"

He told me all about the adventures that followed – how Bumblebee got him and Mrs. Witwicky together, the All Spark, the Matrix of Leadership, college with an Autobot, and many other adventures he'd shared with Bumblebee and Optimus over the years, including the time Bumblebee landed him in jail forweeks.

"When I first got involved, Firebrand, I was only a year older than you, and I killed Megatron. You won't have to face anything anywhere near as big as that. I have confidence that, even at fifteen, you can handle Marshall and his ilk. So...let's begin by taking a look at your interview with him. Ironhide gave you some good advice, but more important was that you followed it pretty well."

"What was Marshall reallyafter?" I interrupted. "I mean, his questions were all over the place. Did he reallythink Ratchet and I...?"

Samuel laughed. "No. He was after the same thing he and his cronies are always after – Autobot technology."

"Wheeljack's lab."

"Exactly. And your phone and laptop. As for the rest, he was trying to win your confidence at first and then the part with Ratchet was him trying to fluster and provoke you. People are more likely to say things they shouldn't if they're upset. But he miscalculated. He underestimated you. He saw 'frightened and betrayed fifteen-year-old girl' and thought you'd be easy prey. He didn't expect you to come out with both guns blazing, so to speak."

I grinned at his praise. I'd been able to fight for them – for Ironhide and Ratchet!

"He won't make that mistake again," Samuel said thoughtfully. "He's already pressing to get another crack at you, but with his multiple violations last time, I think we can hold him off indefinitely. But you still need this training. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get out here sooner for it. We'd planned on taking care of it over Christmas, but Marshall moved in more quickly than I expected. It's all part of the compromise; you know about the Autobots now, which means you're fair game to anyone who wants to interview you. I'm sorry we can't really go back on that now – like it or not you're going to be part of this – but you seem to have a knack. Fate gave you Will Lennox and Spitfire as parents for a reason."

"I want to be part of it." I made that decision weeks ago when I climbed into Sunstreaker's alt-form. Granted, I didn't know everything that would happen because of my choice, but I wouldn't go back and change it even if I could. "The Autobots have done so much for me...they're my family. I'd do anything for them."

"Thank you, Annabelle. Firebrand. Now back to the compromise." He touched the tablet. "It's all spelled out here, but the basics are this. Anyone with Autobot-awareness clearance can interview you, but there are limits. You are free to leave any interview at will, and you can have an advisor of your choice on hand if you wish. Also, any interview has to be during reasonable hours. They can't show up at two in the morning and haul you off to the base or whatever. We've modeled the rules about interviewing you on regulations regarding criminal interrogations and warrants - but you're not a criminal. Remember that, because guilt is another common interrogation tactic. You have done nothing wrong. Ever. These people will twist your words and the Autobots' words – including those of your parents – trying to manipulate you." He frowned. "I feel like we're throwing you to the wolves."

I could handle them. If I could hold my own against Marshall without any training from Samuel, then I'd be kick-aft after the Autobot ambassador and human Prime was done with me. "You're not. You're giving me the weapons and training I need to fight them."

Samuel shook his head and then glanced at Dad. "She isyour daughter, isn't she."

"Damn straight," he answered, smiling proudly.

Samuel returned his smile. To me, he said, "So the first weapon is the truth, and a close second is silence. Whenever you're faced with questions from humans, always tell the truth, but only barely enough of it. There are a lot of things the other humans just don't need to know. Sure, people are curious, but that doesn't mean they have a right to every detail about the Autobots' lives. And then be silent. Silence does far less damage than shooting off at the mouth. And don't ever be the first to break a tense silence."

"Got it."

"Now…interrogation techniques. Like I said, there are limits so they won't be waterboarding you or anything. But there are some tricks you need to be aware of…"

…

We spent hours going over what to watch for in interviews, what information was classified ("When in doubt," Samuel said, "assume it's classified") and how to talk the talk of political warfare. By the time we broke for lunch, my brain was fried. Samuel seemed to sense this and said we'd do something a little more practical in the afternoon, like roleplaying me giving a human dignitary a tour of the base. Practice for this visitor who would be coming on Saturday, I supposed.

On the way to the mess hall for lunch, I was surprised at how easily Samuel moved through the base, almost like he was military, too. He really was one who could adapt to just about anything. No wonder the Autobots wanted him to be their man.

"They were really lucky you bought Bumblebee," I said over my sandwich. "It could have been your dad. Or the glasses could have belonged to a different relative."

He half-smiled. "The Autobots are firm believers in two contradictory things – free will and fate. Optimus values choice above all else, but he has believed all along that his fate and mine were intertwined. He's right on both counts."

"But you could have made different choices…wouldn't that have messed up your fate?"

He shrugged. "But I made the choices I did because I am who and what I am. Sure, I couldmake other choices, but I wouldn'tand that's why it's my fate. Like you. Your…spark, your heart is uniquely yours, but you're the daughter of Will and Sarah Lennox, so you're fated to be one tough little femme when push comes to shove. Maybe you'd be girly and prefer pink. Maybe you'd be a total tomboy. But when you knew Ironhide was injured, you would have the courage to go to him no matter what. It was your fate, which also means it was your fate to help save his life. At least, that's how I understand it. It makes perfect sense to Optimus, but I haven't been able to wrap my mind around that one entirely. All I know is that when he starts talking about fate, I've learned to listen. You should, too."

Listen to Optimus – that was the best advice I'd gotten all day. "I will."