Hound stepped out of the elevator and into a large room full of bustling, talking mecha. He thought back to the map in the message he'd received and crossed the room. Only a few mecha seemed to notice him, but he smiled and tried to look like he knew what he was doing.

He walked down a short hall to the office he'd been asked to come to and knocked on the door, which slid open almost immediately.

"Good orn," the mech behind the desk looked friendly at least. He beckoned Hound into the room. "Sit down. You're Hound, right?"

Hound nodded and sat. "It's good to meet you, sir."

"You too. And you can just call me Mainspring. Thank you for your help with the Tarn evacuation."

Hound looked down, trying to banish the stubborn replay in his processor of Megatron shooting Clampdown, then stabbing Deep Cover through the spark chamber. "I… tried, sir… um… Mainspring. I apologize that I didn't return to Iacon earlier, when I was supposed to. I know I wasn't technically supposed to stay behind, but…"

"You wanted to help," Mainspring smiled. "I'm glad you stayed behind. I hear your assistance was invaluable. In fact, I asked you to come to my office this orn to offer you a place in my department."

Hound's optics widened. "You… really?"

"Yes. Mirage recommended you. Apparently you have quite the talent for illusions."

Hound hesitated.

"What?"

"I… don't know if I'm cut out to be in an army in the first place," Hound said. "I don't think I could really be a soldier. I do still want to help, but… it's a lot harder than I thought."

He didn't want to have to watch anyone else die, and he was fairly certain he'd never be able to kill anyone.

"I see," Mainspring said. "Well, perhaps this will be a better option for you."

"Being a spy?"

"That doesn't necessarily involve the same things as being a soldier. In fact, at the moment, we're in great need of mecha who can go to the city-states near the south pole and survey them, looking for defensible positions, good places for ambushes, and the like."

Hound took in a deep vent and let it out slowly.

That didn't sound so bad.

"I'll understand, of course, if you turn this offer down," Mainspring said. "I'm sure your run-in with Megatron was traumatic."

Hound wasn't sure what to say.

Mainspring waited, watching him, until the silence was too much.

"I do enjoy traveling," he admitted. "And so long as…" he was being cowardly, he knew it. Other mecha were risking their lives. Other mecha were going to have to kill, to watch their friends die. "…never mind."

"Never mind?"

"I'm sorry for my reluctance," Hound said. "I'd be happy to accept any assignment you give me."

Mainspring met his optics. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's not fair for me to try and back out, when I know I can help."

Another brief silence fell, then Mainspring nodded. "Thank you. There are forms and other things to finalize. You'll need to move because we have a separate section of the barracks. I'll give you the paperwork and a few regulations to read, and then we can probably get you on an assignment within a couple of orns. You said you like traveling?"

Hound nodded.

"Well, expect to travel."

"Can I… have an orn to think about this?"

Mainspring nodded. "Of course, forgive me, I'm sure this is a lot to take in, especially after what happened in Tarn… Actually I have a few breems if you want to talk about the attack on your group of refugees."

"Oh, I'm fine," Hound said.

"You are going to be working under me, so it will benefit both of us if you're open and honest with me," Mainspring said. "Also, I was a psychological counselor for many vorns, and I may be able to help you work through what happened."

Hound looked down.

"Please," Mainspring said. "From what you've said, it seems like that's troubling you."

"All right," Hound said.

Starscream bowed elegantly before the big gladiator. With any luck, he wouldn't be as foolish as the Prime, and would accept Starscream's services.

"Who are you and what exactly do you want?" Megatron growled.

Well, he certainly wasn't as polite as the Prime. "I am Starscream. This is my trine—Thundercracker and Skywarp. Until recently, I was the captain of an esteemed and highly elite seeker armada in Vos." He waited. No reaction from the gladiator, though Thundercracker shifted uncomfortably. That mech really needed to learn how to lie.

After a few moments, Megatron sighed impatiently. "Go on."

"We heard that you were looking for some talent to add to the leadership of your ranks."

The big gladiator still seemed unimpressed, but Starscream was sure it was just a front. His army was a mess compared to the organized—if untrained and untested—ranks of the Autobots.

"And what talent do you presumably have?" Megatron said.

"Why, I'm glad you asked," Starscream said. "I have a multitude of wonderful talents which include brilliant intellect, charisma, and…"

"Demonstrate." Megatron cut him off.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't particularly appreciate rich idiots singing their own praises," Megatron said. "You have five breems to prove to me I shouldn't just shoot you for forcing your way in here." The gladiator's big arm cannon powered up.

Starscream backed away. "You wouldn't… I mean, you can't demonstrate… I mean…" He gathered his thoughts. "Your excellence, you wouldn't shoot me. I'm worth much more to you alive and on your side."

"Prove it."

Pushy, pushy. Starscream was starting to think he wouldn't get along with this mech. But he had to win Megatron over. He needed revenge on the mecha in Vos who'd rejected him, who'd tossed him aside after all of his hard work. His potential had been completely wasted on them, but they would regret it all some orn. And, in a sense, their dismissal had only lifted him to set his sights on loftier goals.

"Your army is… depressingly small," Starscream said.

Megatron glared at him. "Excuse me."

"It's larger than that of the Autobots, of course, but that won't last long. It's only been two orns since Tarn, and their ranks have doubled in that time. At your current rate, you won't be able to keep up for long, especially as more mecha realize you're serious about conquering the world and decide they don't want you to. But I can solve that problem. I can make you popular. I can convince this whole planet, including all of the seekers, to side with you instead of that idiot Iaconian."

Megatron powered down his arm cannon. Good. He was listening now. Starscream laid out his initial plans in enough detail that Megatron would understand, but also leaving out enough so that the gladiator couldn't just steal his ideas and offline him.

And of course he couldn't share all of his plans—not with Thundercracker listening.

After a few breems, Megatron leaned forward. "I've heard enough," he said.

Starscream flinched.

"But I need time to think about it. Stay nearby, and give Soundwave your comm. codes. I'll summon you some time in the next few orns to talk more. Until then, stay off of my base."

Summon him in a few orns? This was an outrage. This mech obviously didn't know who he was talking to.

"I warn you I'm…"

"Go!" Megatron said, powering up his cannon again.

Starscream didn't want to find out if that thing was as powerful as it looked. He turned and half-ran out the door. Thundercracker and Skywarp followed him.

"Well, that went great," Thundercracker said, arms crossed.

Starscream clenched his fists. "I don't need your commentary."

"He obviously doesn't like us," Skywarp said. "Why don't we just go back to Vos?"

"And abandon this opportunity?" Starscream glared at him. "How dare you question—"

"Look, Screamer." Thundercracker crossed his arms. "We're just giving our honest opinions. We're not going to play yes-mech for you. You're worth more than that."

Starscream huffed a sigh through his vents. "Well, we can't go back—there's nothing for us in Vos. We have to keep looking forward."

"What if Megatron doesn't want your help either?"

"He does," Starscream said. "I'm sure of it."

"So," Megatron said. "What was your impression? Can we trust him?"

"No."

"Could he be useful to us?"

Soundwave hesitated. "Yes."

Megatron nodded. That was what he had thought. "He'll probably try to stab me in the back as soon as he has a good opportunity. But some of his ideas aren't terrible. Do you think it would be possible to keep him under control?"

"Yes."

Megatron nodded. "What would I do without you, Soundwave?"

Soundwave was silent.

"We still haven't found Jazz?"

"No."

"Then he probably got away."

Soundwave nodded.

Megatron sighed. "How about the Institute? Have you found that?"

"No," Soundwave said.

"Any idea at all where it might be?"

Soundwave shrugged. "Ask the Council?"

Now there was an idea. The Iacon Council had made an attempt to contact him the orn before, but he had ignored them. He was determined that the next time he spoke with them would be right before he offlined them all. But maybe speaking with them could be informational. He might even be able to work out a deal with them, that he could go back on later. They had betrayed so many mecha. Revenge would only be sweeter if he had the opportunity to do it back to them.

Soundwave looked away. Something about his movement caught Megatron's notice. "What?"

Silence for a moment.

"Soundwave?"

"Do we need to lie?"

"To lie?" Megatron asked. "Are you talking about Starscream's suggestions?"

Soundwave didn't answer, which Megatron took as a confirmation.

"I will do anything to see this conflict through," Megatron said. "That is why I will win. You know that when it's over we'll put everything right. You have to trust me on that."

Still, Soundwave was silent.

"If you don't like it, you can leave," Megatron said. "I need your help, but I can't stop you if you decide to go. It's up to you."

Soundwave seemed to consider that for a few astroseconds, then Megatron saw him relax a little. He was staying then. Good.

"Thank you," Megatron said.

Soundwave nodded.

"Let the Council know I'm willing to talk to them." They must be desperate if they were trying to get in touch with him. Perhaps Orion had stopped cooperating with them. They should have foreseen that. If the librarian would turn his back on those he called friends, he'd use and betray anyone.

"Ready?"

Orion nodded. He shuttered his optics and braced himself for the familiar sensation of the data stick sliding into the port in the back of his helm.

He accessed the file on it, and un-shuttered his optics.

At first, all he could see was blackness in every direction. Then he noticed the faint outlines of what seemed to be a glass room, enclosing him. Of course, he couldn't really be floating in space, because there was some form of gravity keeping him anchored to the floor of the glass room.

He walked to the edge and rested a hand against the clear barrier between him and the distant pinpricks of light.

"Welcome, Prime," a voice said from behind him, and Orion spun to see that he wasn't alone anymore. There was a blue and silver mech in the room with him, standing by a simple, square table. Orion watched warily, still concerned that something would attack him. This trial was supposed to be more difficult than the first one.

"In order to pass this trial," the other mech said, reaching out to touch the top of the table. "You must win against me…"

Orion's spark pulsed irregularly. He barely knew how to fight…

"…at this board game."

What?

The tabletop lit up with hexagons and holographic pieces.

"A board game?"

"Yes," the other mech said very seriously. "Sit down."

Two chairs appeared out of nowhere, positioned on either side of the table.

Orion approached cautiously. "What happens if I lose?"

"Then you don't pass the trial," the other mech said. "Shall we begin?"

Orion wasn't quite sure what to think. He recognized the game, and knew the rules. It was a common strategy game—the same one, in fact, that Prowl had won against Soundwave back when they'd all been working together. Orion wasn't really that great at it. He wasn't terrible, but… well… "Who are you?"

"I am Logos Prime," the other mech said.

Of course.

Cybertron's first strategist.

Orion sat down across the table from him. He was still suspicious that somehow this would end with him dying horribly.

Logos sat as well. "You may make the first move, as is your right as my guest."

Orion took in a deep vent, then let it out. The other mech was silent, watching him carefully. He wished he could bring Prowl in to advise him. Prowl would be able to do this.

He moved a piece.

Logos moved a piece.

The game lasted a little longer than Orion had expected. But other than that, there were no surprises. He lost miserably.

After Logos made his final move, ending the game, Orion expected everything to start over, or maybe to dissolve, but nothing happened.

"How many times have you attempted this trial?"

"This is the first time," Orion said.

Logos nodded. "Ah. The first time. You did fairly well, I suppose, but you have failed to beat me at the game, and therefore have failed the trial. You may make another attempt at a later time."

And then everything disappeared, and Orion was hanging in empty space for an instant.

Then he un-shuttered his optics and he was in the crystal garden again.

"Welcome back," Master Yoketron said. "Did you enjoy the game?"

Orion blinked. "You knew what the trial would be?"

"The nature of the trials is a well-kept secret, but… well, I've been around for a long time, and you are not the first Prime I've seen go through them. I don't know how to beat the trials—well, most of them—but I have picked up a few things about them here and there."

Orion stood and stretched. "Did you train the other Primes as well?"

Yoketron smiled. "Only a handful of them, but I think I managed to make the acquaintance of every Prime since the last Quintesson war. In any case, how did the trial go?"

"Well," Orion said. "That was much better than being eaten alive… But how am I supposed to beat Logos Prime at a strategy game?"

"I'm not certain," Yoketron said. "All I know is that all the Primes before you did it somehow. I've heard this one is one of the more frustrating challenges. It takes more attempts, on average, than any of the others."

They didn't have that time.

"Would you like to go again?"

Orion nodded.

There was a cheer from the other side of the room. Elita leaned back in her chair and looked over, trying to see what was happening. That half of the big room was where the resource mecha worked.

Elita commed Chromia on an internal frequency, and waited a few astroseconds for her sister to answer.

"Hey," Chromia said. "Guess what?"

She didn't sound particularly excited. Elita frowned. "What? Sounds like you're celebrating something over there."

"Whatever we've been telling everyone about the attack on Tarn, it's working. Recruitment's still going up."

"Really? How many mecha do we have now?"

"We just passed thirty thousand, but at this rate we'll have forty thousand by the end of the decaorn."

Thirty thousand? That couldn't be right.

"Really?" Elita said. "Primus, I knew you were busy, but I didn't think… didn't we have twenty three thousand at the meeting at the beginning of the orn? I knew we were going to need some more space, but… Primus, what happened? More factories closing?"

"No, actually. Mecha are signing up from all over the place," Chromia said. "Um… can I talk to you for a breem? Ugh, I wish we had real offices."

"We can borrow Orion's, since he's training," Elita said, and pushed away from her desk. She waited for her sister, and Chromia joined her. Moonracer jogged over as they made their way toward the stairs.

"Can you keep things running for a few breems?" Elita asked.

Moonracer sighed. "Okay. If you promise to bring me back some energon, I haven't refueled, like, all orn."

Elita nodded, and she and Chromia left the room and headed up to the main floor.

"What do you think Orion does for training?" Chromia asked. "I mean, he's gone for joors and joors every orn. Does he really spend that much time learning to fight? Ironhide only has us train for a joor or two every other orn, and I feel like we're making a lot of progress."

"I think he does other things too—something about becoming a Prime, but I don't know much about it."

Chromia frowned. "So he doesn't tell you—"

"Don't accuse him of keeping secrets from me, I don't know if he's allowed to talk about it with anyone. Has he told Ironhide anything about it?"

Chromia shut her lip plates and shook her helm, then sighed.

"What?"

"I just think it's kind of sad that you're still convinced things will work out between the two of you. I mean…"

They stepped out into the main room and Chromia trailed off.

Elita wished she would drop it, but there wasn't much hope of that. She led the way to Orion's office and tried the door, but it was locked.

She commed Red Alert.

"What are you doing?"

"Borrowing Orion's office," Elita said. "Can you let me in?"

"That's against protocol."

"Please just let us in, Red Alert," Elita said. "We just need to talk privately somewhere secure,"

There was a moment of hesitation, and then the door opened.

"I would not have expected that to work," Chromia said.

"It's not our fault we don't have our own offices," Elita walked around the desk and sat down in Orion's chair. It was a bit too big for her, and her pedes barely touched the floor. She smiled slightly, happy and sad all at the same time to be sitting here where he spent so much time. She straightened a stack of datapads on the desk as Chromia sat across from her.

"Look, I know you've forgiven him and everything," Chromia said. "And—"

"Can't you just support me on this?" Elita said. "It's hard enough without mecha telling me to give up."

"I don't know, Ellie," Chromia said. "I kind of feel like he's moving on, just from the way he acts. And even if he isn't… without a bond…"

"Without a bond what?"

"How can you really understand one another? How can you really trust one another? I mean, I put off bonding with Ironhide for so long I'm sure he almost gave up on me. I was scared of the commitment, and worried because we didn't always get along, but I didn't understand… We still fight sometimes, but it's not as bad because we know when we're angry, and we know when we're sad. We know exactly how we feel about each other all the time. It's harder for me to stay mad at him when I can feel how sorry he is, or how it hurts his feelings. Same thing goes the other way. I don't know how we'd make it work without that."

Elita crossed her arms. "Is this what you wanted to talk about? I thought you had something to say about recruitment."

"I know I'm being kind of a glitch about this, Ellie, but what you're trying to do is crazy. It's going to be ridiculously hard, and I don't think you're going to get anything out of it. I don't want to see you hurt yourself."

"That's… thoughtful of you," Elita said. "But you're not going to change my mind. As long as Orion needs me, I'll be there for him, regardless of what I get or don't get out of it. Now, did you have something you wanted to talk about?"

Chromia frowned.

"Also," Elita said. "I'm really tired of having this conversation with you over and over again. Just let it go. I'm not a youngling and I'm not stupid and you don't need to make my decisions for me."

Chromia sighed. "Fine."

"Thank you," Elita said. "So…?"

"So, we're rapidly burning through Mirage's credit."

"How rapidly? How much time do we have left?"

"At our current rate, we've got maybe a vorn, but if our army and its expenses keep growing, I'd say we have less than a quarter of a vorn, especially if we have to keep finding more housing for our mecha."

Elita nodded. "I guess we'd better win this war fast then."

Chromia huffed. "Yeah."

"So, what do we do if we run out of credit?" Elita said. "We probably won't be able to beg the Council for anything without basically selling our sparks to them…"

"I don't know," Chromia said. "Hopefully we'll be influential enough by then that we can work out a deal that doesn't involve them taking ownership of the army. But in the meantime, we should try to be as frugal as possible. I mean, it might be more cost effective to buy warehouses and put up some extra walls in them to make apartments—that sort of thing. We got our first big apartment building for a good deal, but we can't buy more like that."

Elita sighed. "Well, see what you can find, and I'll run negotiations. Maybe we should build our own base, though."

"Are you kidding, that would be insanely expensive," Chromia said. "We'd have to hire architects and construction workers, and it would take a long time to build anyway. We couldn't—"

She cut off as the door opened, and Orion came in.

"Oh…" he said, looking momentarily confused.

"Sorry," Elita got up from Orion's chair and came around the front of the desk. "We didn't realize you'd be back so soon. We can—"

"It's all right," Orion said. "Let me get a few things, and you can carry on with whatever you were discussing."

He approached the desk, but Chromia got up. "Nah, we should get back to work."

Elita hesitated.

Chromia frowned at her, but didn't say anything, just walked out the door.

"Don't forget to get Moonracer some energon," Elita called after her. Chromia didn't respond, but hopefully she'd heard.

"So…" Orion said.

"Recruitment's gone up even more since you left," Elita said. "That's what we were talking about. We have more than thirty thousand soldiers now."

Orion stared at her.

"You know how you were saying that you were worried you'd made a mistake standing up to the Council and using the army to take the groundbridges? I worried about that at first too, but I'm glad we all trusted you. I think mecha realize that you really mean what you say—that you're really not willing to bend to the Council's will, and you really do just want to help everyone."

She'd hoped she could get him to smile, but he still looked solemn.

She watched him as he sat behind his desk. "That's good news," he said.

"Is it?" Elita sat across from him. "You don't seem excited about it."

He smiled then, but it was a small, tired smile. "Thirty thousand soldiers is a lot of responsibility."

That was fair. "It's not all on you," Elita said. "We'll all work together. How was training, by the way?"

"Good," Orion said. "I am somewhat stuck on something, but at least…" he trailed off.

It did bother her a little that he couldn't tell her about his training. She didn't understand why it had to be a secret.

But she told herself it didn't matter.

"Well, I'm glad you got to come back earlier," Elita said, smiling at him, and reaching out to put a hand on his. "Maybe you can get everything done early and get a decent amount of recharge for once."

He nodded, with a genuine smile this time. "That would be nice."

"I still have a lot to do this orn," Elita admitted. "But maybe if I get done early too, we can spend some time together?"

Orion looked away.

"It's all right if you can't," Elita said. "Or if you don't want to. You don't have to look so guilty about it. I know you need rest, more than any of us."

Orion pulled his hand away, but then took both of hers and met her optics. "I would love to spend some time with you later. Maybe next orn. I should get done with training early again next time."

"All right," Elita said, and got up. "I'll see you at the meeting next on-cycle."

She stopped in the doorway, on the way out and glanced back at him to see he was looking down at a datapad on the desk, but he hadn't turned it on yet.

It was sometimes easier to pretend that everything was going to work out between them when he wasn't here. As much as she'd never admit it to her sister, Chromia made a lot of good points.

She could still read Orion well enough to know if he was upset, or happy, or tired. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something—that he was hiding something from her.

Maybe Chromia was right. Maybe he was moving on, and just too nice to say anything about it. Maybe he would be better off without her.

He looked up, and she saw a bit of well-hidden pain in his expression. He tilted his helm in a questioning sort of way, as if to ask why she was still standing there staring at him.

Elita didn't have a good answer. She shook her helm slightly and backed out of the room, letting the door close behind her.