"Watch your step," Autoceptor said as he helped a femme carrying a sparkling up the short incline. They came out into the cavern where mecha were gathered. This femme and her sparkling made fifty-two—there were fifty-two mecha in this batch.

"Thank you," she said.

Autoceptor nodded stiffly and glanced the way they had come. These two were in luck—the bridge was due to open any astrosecond. Everyone would file through and then over the next couple of joors, the cavern would slowly fill again. During the on-cycle they'd often get more than a hundred in each round, but it was harder to sneak mecha down here after curfew and so the next fifteen joors or so would be frustratingly slow.

They'd been going for more than three orns now, and they'd only evacuated half of the mecha they wanted to. It was still more than Autoceptor had ever hoped for, but it wasn't fast enough. The Autobots were toeing the line between being too cautious and not cautious enough, and they were putting everyone in danger and rapidly running out of time. Only two orns left. Two orns before the attack.

A groundbridge opened, filling the cave with eerie blue-green illumination.

"All right everyone!" Autoceptor called over the hum of the bridge. "File through—there's no rush, they won't close it until everyone's made it."

He watched them all walk through. Some of them looked excited or relieved, but most of them were afraid as well. They were leaving everything behind. They'd be packed into overcrowded camps in the caves under Nova Cronum for the next few orns, and then after that, they'd have to move again. And probably again after that.

They might never get to return home to Tarn.

The last of them walked through and Autoceptor leaned against the wall of the cave for a moment, shuttering his optics. He needed recharge.

"Hello?"

"Mm?" Autoceptor came alert and pushed away from the wall. A green and grey mech had come back through the groundbridge. "What do you want? Who are you?"

The mech looked uncertain for a moment, but then offered a small, genuine smile. "I'm an Autobot. I'm here to take over—they sent me to relieve you so you can go to Nova Cronum and get some rest."

"Hmph," Autoceptor frowned. His instincts told him not to trust someone so friendly. "Tell them I'm not going."

The mech looked lost for a moment. "Are… you sure?"

Autoceptor nodded. "You can stay if you want, though, and help me direct traffic."

"All right," the mech said and put a finger to his helm. A few astroseconds later, the groundbridge closed and the Autobot turned to talk to him again. "So, you're an enforcer here in Tarn?"

"Uhuh," Autoceptor said. Exhaustion had sapped all his patience for pointless conversations, but he needed more information before he let this mech help. "And you? You don't exactly carry yourself like a soldier."

The Autobot shrugged, looking down in what might have been embarrassment. "I know. I was a member of Autobot before Megatron branched off and attacked Kaon. I had lost my job because of it, and… I guess going back didn't feel right. The Prime… needs as much help as we can offer."

Autoceptor raised an optic ridge.

"Honestly, though, I'm hoping I don't end up on the front lines right away. I don't know if I could actually kill someone."

So he was just another Iaconian idealist. Optimus Prime's cause seemed to attract those. "What was your job before?"

"I was a primary school teacher," the mech smiled.

Primus beneath.

"Well," Autoceptor said. "You'll fit right in here, we've got a lot of sparklings going through this bridge, and they get real bored and whiny, so maybe you can keep the next batch entertained and quiet."

"I can do that." The mech brightened.

"Look," Autoceptor deadpanned. "I need some recharge. Mecha are probably going to start showing up soon to go through the next bridge. Can you keep track of how many there are, and let them know they're in the right place?"

"Of course."

"Wake me up if you have any questions. Actually, you got any questions right now?"

"Um…" the mech said. "Oh, I don't know your designation."

"Autoceptor."

The Autobot held out a hand. "I'm Hound."

Autoceptor shook his hand. "Good to meet you. Anything else?"

"No," Hound said. "They've briefed me on how this works. Let me give you my comm. codes, though, and you can pass them off to the mech on the other end."

"Right," Autoceptor said, and accepted a small datapad from the mech. Then he went over to the side of the cave and sat down to comm. Kaltor, who was stationed in a small shop that had a passage leading underground.

"Everything all right?" Kaltor asked over the private frequency.

"Yeah. The Autobots sent a mech to help run things down here. I'm going to get a couple of joors of recharge."

"About time you took a nap, old mech. How many joors have you been online?"

"Shut up," Autoceptor growled. "After I've gotten some rest, I'll send him up to take your spot so you can recharge for a bit too."

"Thank you."

"And I'll send you his comm codes so you don't have to bother me about anything."

"Sounds like a plan. I had a pretty big group in here a breem ago, so they should be showing up in five or ten breems."

"Great," Autoceptor said. "Keep them coming."

He forwarded Kaltor Hound's comm. codes, and then cut the comm. Then he leaned back against the wall and tried to doze off before the group of mecha arrived.

The cell door swung open. Ultra Magnus looked up and then stood as a guard came in.

"What is it?"

The mech saluted. "The Council wants you, Sir," he said.

Ultra Magnus nodded in resignation and stepped out of the cell.

"Sir…" the mech said. "If they… decide to have you executed..."

"I expect you and the others to follow their commands exactly," Ultra Magnus said. "As you have sworn to do."

"Yes, Sir." The guard said quietly.

They were joined by three other guards out in the hall and Ultra Magnus walked between the four of them out of the detention center and onto the streets of Central Iacon.

One of the other guards started to say something. Ultra Magnus silenced the mech with a glare, but then had to push down an unusual swell of sentiment. He hadn't realized how loyal these mecha were to him. He knew they generally didn't like him—in fact some of them outright hated him. So he certainly hadn't expected any of them to protest his potential execution.

Ultra Magnus watched the golden city pass by as they walked. This might be the last time he got to see it. He wished he could have done more for Optimus Prime and his Autobots, but it seemed his part in this conflict was over.

Guilt churned his tanks. Giving up was wrong—following the Council's orders was wrong… But wouldn't breaking his oath be wrong as well?

They reached the Council Hall and Ultra Magnus walked purposefully through the building to the Council Chamber, where they were waiting to pronounce his sentence.

Halogen smiled at him from behind his podium. "Welcome, Ultra Magnus."

Ultra Magnus was silent.

"Shall we get this over with?"

Ultra Magnus met his optics and nodded once.

"Captain Ultra Magnus," Halogen said. "We have decided to strip you of your rank, though we will not release you from your oath. After much deliberation, we have come to the conclusion that you cannot be trusted. However, while your loyalty is questionable, you have not committed any overt acts of treason, so we cannot execute you. Instead, we have decided to sentence you to long-term imprisonment in stasis until further evidence can be produced."

Did they want him out of the way for some reason? If so, why not execute him? They didn't really need evidence to have him killed. Were they worried they'd lose the loyalty of the rest of the Elite Guard?

Or did they want him online for some reason?

"Any last words before you go?" Senator Ratbat asked from off to the side.

Ultra Magnus looked around the room. He did not care to say anything to any of them. "No, your honor."

"Well, then, take him away," Halogen said.

Ultra Magnus followed the guards from the room. At least the Council hadn't asked him to do anything dishonorable again. Forced stasis was better than that.

It still meant he'd be out of the conflict, and in some ways, it was a greater insult to his honor than killing him would have been. His stasis pod would be stored in Stanix or Polyhex, among those of probable murderers, thieves, and traitors.

They led him to a side room where they had a stasis pod ready. He stepped in and turned so he was facing the rest of the room. The door to the pod swung closed and Magnus fought a moment of panic before the pod activated and all of his systems shut down, reducing him to nothing more than a faintly pulsing spark.

"So the Autobots don't seem to be making any preparations to defend against Megatron," the spy said.

Blackangle sat back in his throne, frowning. "Well, it isn't as if they can fend off the gladiator's armies at this point."

"It's weird, though," the hologram in front of him fuzzed for a moment as the mech folded his arms. "You'd think the Autobots would be doing something different now that Megatron's openly preparing to attack, but they aren't. No one seems any more stressed than usual, and I didn't even overhear anyone talking about it last time I got invited up into the tower. I mean, tension's been high all decaorn but..."

"I suppose you're right," Blackangle said. "They should, at least, be concerned. Unless they already knew about it somehow…"

"How would they find out about it?" the spy asked.

"See," Blackangle said. "That's the kind of question you're supposed to answer. Do you have anything else to report?"

"Nothing of particular interest, Sir. I can send you some updated numbers soon, though."

"Alright. Then get back to work."

The hologram blinked out, and Blackangle leaned forward, reaching up to finger the brand on his shoulder that marked him as a member of Quantum, the largest gang in Polyhex.

Could the Autobots have known somehow? Maybe they were secretly in league with the Decepticons. It wouldn't be too much of a surprise—after all, Optimus and Megatron had worked together in the past.

More likely he was missing something.

That wasn't acceptable. The world was changing and he was already falling behind. For one brief vorn, he had practically owned the Polyhex Council, but that stupid resistance movement in Iacon had inspired too many loud, whiny civilians. They'd started to demand that the Council take steps to clean up the streets and cut down on crime. Running the city-state had become more trouble than it was worth.

Blackangle had gone into hiding, taking his mecha with him. He still had some deals with government officials, but that might not last much longer if current political trends continued.

He had spies everywhere—among the Autobots, the Decepticons, the Councils themselves…

One of those three powers was going to come out on top of this fight.

And as soon as he figured out which one, he would be ready to pick a side.

Starscream wasn't in his room, so Thundercracker wandered out to the front room, where Skywarp was bent over the table there, carving something into it with a small knife.

"What are you doing?"

Skywarp looked up as Thundercracker sat across from him at the table, but didn't answer.

"You know this table is new," Thundercracker said. "I don't think they want you destroying it."

Skywarp sighed and went back to scraping paint off the table. "There's nothing to do here," he said. "I got in trouble for flying earlier this orn and some groundpounder enforcers chased me down and tried to arrest me. For flying. It's not like I was even doing anything wrong."

"Well, taking it out on the table doesn't seem like a great idea. Where's Starscream?"

"Don't know," Skywarp said. "He's already ruined the possibility of making friends with the other seekers, though, so I'm kind of mad at him. Something's wrong with that mech, more than usual." He scraped a long line of paint off the table. He wasn't even drawing anything, just making a mess.

Also, if even Skywarp was noticing something wrong with Starscream…

"I miss Tealwing," Skywarp said. "The two of them fighting all the time meant he was nicer to me. He got so mad earlier this orn."

"Because you pushed him of the roof."

Skywarp snickered, then shook his helm. "Also, you lied to me."

"When?"

"You said we'd be back in Vos in a couple of orns, but we're not. We're still here and there's nothing to do and nowhere to go and we're supposed to start training or whatever next orn, but I bet it will be awful because groundpounders are stupid and I'm bored out of my processor. Also, Starscream was in here five breems ago ranting about how he needs a personal audience with Optimus Prime and how his plans are ruined or something."

"Skywarp, I literally just asked you if you knew where Starscream was, and you said you didn't."

"That was five breems ago. I don't know where he is now."

Thundercracker sighed and commed Starscream.

"Do you have any energon?" Skywarp asked. "I don't want to go to the crowded death cave where they hand it out."

"But it's your turn this orn," Thundercracker said.

"I'll trade you. It's your turn next orn, right?"

It was Starscream's, but Thundercracker wouldn't be surprised if Starscream pushed the responsibility off on him anyway.

He sighed and pulled a cube of energon out of subspace, then shoved it across the table at his trine brother, who took it gleefully.

"Why do I put up with you?" Thundercracker asked.

"Well," Skywarp said. "Honestly, I don't know."

Starscream finally answered his comm. "What is it?" he sneered.

"Can we talk?"

"I suppose. Are you at the apartment?"

"Yeah."

"You talking to Screamer?" Skywarp asked, then tilted his helm back and drank half of the cube in one gulp.

Thundercracker nodded.

"Meet me on the roof in two breems." Starscream's voice crackled over the comm.

"Here, you can have the rest," Skywarp pushed the cube toward Thundercracker, who took it. He held it up to his olfactory sensor warily.

"Don't worry, I didn't slip anything gross in it this time," Skywarp said. "You know, you're the least fun to prank, ever. Even Andromeda is more fun to prank than you."

Thundercracker put the energon back into subspace with a sigh and stood.

"What did Starscream say?"

"That he'll talk to me on the roof."

"See if you can talk some sense into him," Skywarp said. "He sometimes listens to you, right?"

"I'll try," Thundercracker said and made his way out of the apartment and up to the roof. He was waiting for four breems before Starscream finally flew over and landed next to him.

"So…" he said, but his trine leader cut him off.

"We're wasting time here," Starscream growled. "I should be in charge already. I should be leading the Autobots and they won't even let me talk to the Prime. I can't believe some other seekers are here now, trying to take what's rightfully mine. If we don't act quickly…"

"Primus beneath, Starscream," Thundercracker said. "Why do you even care? Why do you want to lead a groundpounder army anyway?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Don't you think it's time to give up and head back home?"

Starscream chuckled, then wheezed, then finally leaned forward and held his sides as he laughed.

Thundercracker crossed his arms and waited for his brother to calm down. Eventually, Starscream got ahold of himself and put a hand on Thundercracker's shoulder, shaking his helm. "Oh, Thundercracker," he said. "It's all right. It's hard to believe you're stupid enough to actually want to go back to a place where we were rejected and treated like scrap. But I suppose your intellectual abilities have always been… lacking. Don't worry. Trust me that I know what I'm doing. I do have a plan after all."

"If you have a plan, tell me what it is."

"Fine," Starscream said. "I've been watching, and I know when the Prime is normally in the noblemech's tower. Next orn—or maybe the orn after—we're going to fly up to the tower and demand to speak with him."

Thundercracker raised an optic ridge.

"And if he won't listen to reason…" Starscream leaned in closer. "We'll kidnap him and take him to Megatron as a peace offering, to leverage my way into his good graces."

Thundercracker stared for a moment. "You're right," he said. "I don't understand. That is a terrible plan, Starscream." He lowered his voice. "Please tell me you're not serious. You want to kidnap Optimus Prime from his own base and fly him across the entire planet? All so we can join the other army trying to take over the world?"

"Only if the Prime is as ignorant as all of his lackeys," Starscream said. "I'm still holding on to the hope that he'll recognize my talents and put me in the position I deserve."

"I'm not going along with this one," Thundercracker said. "I'm not letting you do this."

"But it'll be easy," Starscream said. "We have Skywarp's mod, we can grab the Prime and warp out of the tower. Besides, when have I ever led you wrong?"

Thundercracker could think of a few times. "Look, even if that works, which I'm skeptical about, should we really be joining Megatron's side? Isn't he the one trying to destroy everything?"

"It doesn't matter," Starscream said. "Whichever side we're on will win."

Thundercracker opened his mouth to make a snide comment about Starscream's arrogance, but noticed a familiar glint in his trine brother's optics.

"My only question is," Starscream said. "Whose side are you on?"

Thundercracker took in a deep vent and sighed it out. "I can tell you have some sort of plan involving this war, and I won't pretend I'm not concerned… But I'm your brother, and I'll always be on your side."

"Thank you," Starscream said. "I'm glad I can count on you."

He transformed and flew away, leaving Thundercracker to his worries.

Orion's pedes pounded on the hard, smooth ground. He could hear the beast in pursuit, engine roaring, pedes stomping behind him.

Not real.

It wasn't real…

He skidded around the corner…

And everything froze. The walls faded into gray nothingness and Orion gasped as light blinded him for a moment.

Then his optics adjusted. He was back in the crystal garden.

"I assume from your expression that you were not successful," Yoketron said.

Orion shook his helm. "I think I got eaten even more times that run," he muttered, trying to hold back his frustration. "I think I'm getting worse at this."

He risked a glance at Yoketron, who was watching him with a neutral expression on his faceplate.

"Master Yoketron?"

"Yes, Orion?"

Orion looked down. "I don't mean to… to question the Original Thirteen Primes, but…"

"But…?"

"But I'm not sure I see the point of this trial. In the real world, I can't just… imagine my problems away. Convincing myself that Megatron can still be reasoned with, or that my army can stand against his… won't make those things true if they're not. Does that make sense?"

"Are you suggesting that you don't believe the trial is teaching you anything useful?"

Orion wasn't sure what to say.

"What have you learned from it so far?"

What had he learned?

He had learned that being eaten alive and torn to pieces over and over again gave you nightmares. He'd learned that you could try something again and again and again and still fail.

He wasn't sure if he could do this for much longer. How had his predecessors gotten through this trial with their sanity intact?

"Orion?"

"I guess… I've learned what it feels like to die."

That would make it even harder to send soldiers into battle.

"That's something," Yoketron said. "What else?"

"Well, it seems like the trial is attempting to teach me that I can ignore my problems and they'll go away."

Yoketron frowned.

"I apologize for my disrespect,"

"There is no need to apologize," Yoketron said. "At least not to me. Frankly, I don't approve of the Trials. I've always thought there has to be a less traumatic way to prepare mecha for receiving the Matrix."

Orion shuddered.

"However," Yoketron said. "In this case, I think you might simply be looking at the trial from the wrong angle. While I don't know Liege Maximo very well, I doubt he'd preach about ignoring problems. Is ignoring the dangers really what makes them disappear from the maze?"

"Yes…" Orion frowned. "Actually... no. If I ignore them, they still kill me. It's not ignoring. It's as if… I have to see them and then focus on them and convince myself they're not there. But isn't that still lying to myself?"

"Hmm…" Yoketron said. "Is it? Those monsters are just in your helm—they aren't actually real in the first place. So in a sense, you're telling yourself the truth when you convince yourself they're fake."

That… was admittedly true.

"Let me ask you this," Yoketron said. "What stops you?"

"What… stops me?"

"Everyone makes wrong decisions once in a while. What stops you from doing what you know is right? Social convention? Convenience? The worry that you'll offend someone? Fear of failure?"

Orion looked down.

"You don't need to answer me," Yoketron said. "But I want you to think about it. We all have obstacles in the way of our better tendencies. If I were to undergo this trial, I believe that those monsters would represent excuses for me. It was making excuses that prevented me from training you earlier."

That made sense. "But it's… it's still frustrating."

Yoketron nodded. "Would you like to be finished for the orn?"

Orion shook his helm. "I have to try at least one more time. You're right, maybe if I think about it differently it'll be easier."

"Very well," Yoketron said. "One more time."

Swindle didn't really consider himself to be a merchant, and opportunist was such an ugly word. He was more like a magician. Making money happen, vanishing when deals went sour. Or maybe he was like a musician. He always knew what notes to play to get his audience excited.

But being in the business of everything sly and underhanded, he recognized when something was going on under the table. And something was definitely going on under the table of this Tarnian street corner. It was a busy street, full of merchandising, buying, selling, talking, and trading, even this early in the on-cycle. Considering the crowd, it would be easy not to notice that twenty eight mecha, mostly femmes and sparklings, had all entered a small tool shop in the past half a joor.

And none of them had come back out.

This was quite the mystery. As far as Swindle knew, there was no prominent back door. And the demographic of the mecha entering made it even more interesting. Modest-looking femmes and sparklings, and some ordinary-looking mechs too. Not the kind of mecha who normally participated in dubious activity.

However, there was quite a bit of tension here regarding the seemingly imminent Decepticon take-over, and there were, it was rumored, several groups of the more reasonable-processored citizens who were afraid of this. He had thought originally that this might be some sort of anti-Decepticon meeting, but the mecha were too spread out over time, and you wouldn't be bringing sparklings to that…

Even as he contemplated, a femme came through the crowd with a sparkling clinging to her hand. She had on her faceplate the uncomfortable and slightly nervous look of someone honest trying to do something dishonest for the first time.

Yes, these were probably mecha who wouldn't want Megatron in charge. They were Swindle's least favorite kind of mecha—difficult to scam mainly because they didn't want anything he sold or pretended to sell.

He watched the femme enter the shop, just as he'd expected she would. What could they be doing there? There had to be a reason.

Swindle himself wasn't afraid of the impending Decepticon take-over. He was certain he would find good business wherever he was, no matter the circumstances. And if need be, he could get out without being noticed. He had plenty of bolt-holes all over the… aha! That was it. Swindle crossed his arms and leaned against the building he was standing by, barely containing a smirk.

That was bold of them.

They were escaping. Smuggling mecha out of the city.

Wonderful. This orn was about to get a lot better. He could make some serious credit off of that information, for sure, if he talked to the right city official. He transformed and drove away, humming to himself. He was pleased to have figured it out. It hadn't been very hard, of course.

They hadn't made it very hard. Amateurs.