They took the sparkless frame of Shockwave's latest test subject away as he readjusted his instruments, making a few slight changes to their calibration. He was trying a new method of spark energy extraction. It was much more efficient, though the procedure still always killed his test subjects. He had enough spark energy stored up that he could start experimenting with it, but he wanted to solve the fatality problem first so that he would have a long-term, sustainable source of it for his experiments.

He knew Megatron was losing patience with him, and wanted him to work on other projects. The mines had been producing less than they should, and the warlord wanted better mining equipment. Shockwave saw the logical need for that, and so he would get around to it eventually. But at the moment, his scientific curiosity dictated that he experiment with the power of life itself until he had a better control over it.

Shockwave's assistants brought in another subject and dragged him to the medberth to restrain him there. He protested and fought. Many of them did that. Shockwave wondered why they bothered. Resisting was illogical—there was no way they could escape.

He finished at his station and went to connect all of the necessary equipment to this new subject. There was a lot of data collection involved in this procedure. He monitored processor activity, sensory data, and all the other systems. He needed to know what complications the spark energy extraction was causing in case the offlining wasn't entirely due to the spark trauma. He also thought it was always better to collect more data, if possible.

When all the sensory feeds and monitors were connected, Shockwave forced open the mech's chest plates and the panels underneath to expose his spark chamber. The captive cried out and struggled on the berth, but only until Shockwave immobilized him there, and deactivated his voice box. Shockwave checked the monitors briefly. Processor activity: normal; Spark: stable. He started hooking everything up to the mech's spark chamber, watching pain readings and core activity inch upward. Then he went back to his station to begin the harvesting process. He'd tried it with the subjects unconscious, but it was much more difficult to harvest from a spark that was in stasis, and the mecha usually offlined more quickly that way.

Shockwave started the machinery, and pulled up feeds from all the monitors on his computer screen. He had come close the last few times. Some of the subjects had survived for a few breems on spark support before permanently offlining. Shockwave had tried taking a smaller percentage of spark energy, but it seemed that taking any at all caused enough trauma to kill.

He was getting close, though. He was getting so close. Perhaps this time…

There was a humming noise that grew as the machinery worked, and spark energy was siphoned from the mech's spark chamber. Then, after just a few astroseconds, the process was over and silence fell again. Shockwave checked to make sure the spark energy had been collected successfully before going to switch out the extraction machinery with spark support. The mech had lost consciousness partway through, but his spark still pulsed faintly.

It was stronger than in any of the previous attempts. Shockwave watched carefully, waiting. The smallest hint of excitement lit in his emotional core as the mech's spark stabilized.

"Log entry five hundred twenty three. Test successful. Subject three hundred twelve's spark energy fifty percent removed, thirty percent successfully collected. Spark stabilized at 1:39 breems after the process. Vital signs normal, readings are as follows…" He listed off the readings from the monitors, but didn't disconnect them. "…will monitor the subject for a joor before assigning him to a holding cell. End log entry." He obviously wouldn't be able to keep all of the mecha he harvested from, but he wanted five to ten of them for observation purposes. And once they regained their strength, he wanted to try it again to make sure it was repeatable on the same mecha.

He would still want to work on this process until it was more efficient. He could find ways to collect a higher percentage of the energy, or find a faster, easier method. But for now, as soon as he was certain this mech wasn't going to offline, he could start the next phase of his projects.

"We are honored to have you here." High Councilor Tribute of the Polyhex Council wasn't certain why the Prime had come in person, but it made him nervous. The mech had demanded a meeting too, insisting that by virtue of his position, he had a right to appear before the Council.

"Thank you," Optimus said. "I am grateful for your willingness to meet."

They hadn't had much of a choice. Tribute didn't care about the religious side of it, but this mech did have an army, and the Polyhex Council didn't want to provoke him in any way.

Polyhex had been neutral so far in the conflict, and despite a strong Decepticon following among the masses and even the government, Tribute wanted to stay neutral.

"I have been to Kalis, Nova Cronum, Altihex, and Blaster City now," Optimus said. "And I intend to meet with all of the city-states that are not under Megatron's control."

Foolish of him. Did this mech realize how many enemies he had? Even Tribute was mildly tempted to have him arrested and then sell him to Megatron. The Prime had only brought a handful of guards with him. It would be easy to capture him.

"Why?" a Councilfemme asked. "To beg credit from us for your army? We can't spare any of our resources to help you."

"No," Optimus Prime said. There was something sorrowful about his posture. Showing emotion—especially weak emotions—was amateurish at best. "I have not come to ask for an alliance or resources. I have come to deliver a warning to you, and urge you to take action."

Tribute crossed his arms. Did this mechling really believe they would listen to some sort of spiritual warning?

Optimus continued. "Megatron and his Decepticons intend to conquer Cybertron in its entirety. It may be tempting to side with him, or to remain neutral. However, both of those paths will end with every mech and femme in this Council offline."

Tribute shook his helm. "That is a bold statement."

"It is a true statement, your honor."

"You are quite young and inexperienced to be making such predictions…"

"It is not my prediction," Optimus said. "It is written in the Covenant of Primus. The war Megatron wages will destroy the world. He will not be stopped until the entirety of Cybertron is in ruins and the Council system is destroyed."

"Even if we believed this," Tribute said. "What exactly would we do about it?"

Optimus didn't miss a beat. "You must prepare," he said. "We have opened communications with nearly every city-state on the planet and my army has, so far, been willing to assist wherever the Decepticons attack. But after what happened in Tesarus, we know that will not be enough. You must raise your own militia and prepare to assist in fending off the Decepticons, should they strike Polyhex."

Tribute tried to interject, but the mech spoke over him.

"We can assist you with logistics and training, but you must expend your own resources to sustain your soldiers. This is the only way for you to be safe from Megatron."

Silence fell, and Tribute could tell that his councilmecha were looking to him to respond to the Prime's demands.

"Hmm," he said at length, tapping his finger on the side of his faceplate. "Don't you always claim you'll never force anyone to join your army?"

"This is not about my army," Optimus said. "And I do not have the power to force you to join me. You may call your soldiers Autobots if you wish, but you do not have to. You simply need to prepare to defend your home."

Tribute shook his helm. "Our economy is doing poorly right now. We can't make our own army."

"You must find a way," Optimus said. "You have my sincerest apologies for this, but… if you do not prepare to defend your city-state, then I cannot promise to come to your aid in the case of a Decepticon attack."

Tribute blinked.

"My army and I cannot fight every battle on our own."

"How dare you threaten us!" Tribute said.

Optimus shook his helm sadly. "I have not threatened to harm you, only to withhold my help. We cannot risk repeating the events of Tesarus. I cannot lose that many of my soldiers again. Therefore, if you want protection, you must provide some of it for yourselves."

Tribute glared down at the mech standing on the Council floor. He still seemed sorrowful, but his tone had made it clear there would be no negotiating.

"Very well," he said. "The Council would like to deliberate on the matter."

Optimus nodded. "We have brought some terms and suggestions, which I will send to your secretary so you can review it. I would like you to make a decision this orn if you can. I will wait outside."

Tribute watched as the Prime walked calmly from the room.

Silence fell for a moment, as the door closed behind him, and then the Council Hall erupted into chaos as councilmechs voiced their outrage that the Prime would dare threaten them and go against his promise to defend the city-states.

But something like this had been inevitable.

And now it seemed they had to pick a side.

Prowl put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward as he re-read the list of designations Mainspring had sent him. He'd just finished interviewing all of these mecha, and overall, he wasn't very impressed. In general, his candidates were young, inexperienced, and barely qualified.

Then again, Mainspring had probably done that on purpose. Prowl was also all three of those things, and more experienced mecha probably wouldn't be willing to follow him anyway.

There was an entry request at his door and he pushed himself back to a full sitting position, grimacing at the pain in his spark.

It had been a long orn, and he was ready for it to be over. He certainly didn't want to talk to anyone else.

He didn't even want to get up and go open the door, which was why he'd left it unlocked. They really needed a system for remotely opening, closing, and locking the office doors. He made a mental note to suggest that to Red Alert, for the new base. "Come in," he called.

The door slid open.

Ironhide.

Prowl took in a deep vent, trying not to look nervous. He hadn't spoken personally to the commander since Tesarus had fallen, but he knew the mech was upset about it. And in a way, the whole thing was Prowl's fault.

Last time Ironhide had been upset about the way a battle had gone, he'd slammed Prowl into a wall.

Prowl doubted a repeat of that would end with him conscious.

"Can I help you?" he asked, aware that his voice sounded cold and condescending but unable to do anything about it.

Ironhide approached the desk and Prowl's doorwings flicked nervously, which made the pain in his back flare up.

"Okay," Ironhide said and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. He studied his hands, looking almost as uncertain as some of the mecha Prowl had just interviewed. "I know this is kind of overdue, but I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Prowl blinked.

"Having now experienced a battle where the mech directing it didn't know what the pit he was doing, I think I'm starting to appreciate you being here."

Prowl wasn't really sure what to say.

"So, I'm sorry for being such an aft about the first battle. It was my fault we lost those mecha, not yours."

Well, that was definitely true. But the last thing Prowl had expected was an apology. The whole thing was in the past anyway. Ironhide was looking at him, though, like he expected Prowl to say something in return.

Prowl took a deep vent, which made his spark feel like it was on fire. "I accept your apology," he said.

"Thank you," Ironhide raised an optic ridge. "Uh… how are you doing, by the way?"

"I've been better," Prowl said, looking back at his datapad and the list of designations on it. "But I'll survive." He'd heard that Ironhide had been injured in the battle, but his repairs had been finalized more than a decaorn ago. Prowl would be completely recovered too, except that his spark chamber had been damaged.

Ironhide sat, watching him for several uncomfortable astroseconds, then got up. "Well, I'll leave you to your work. Take it easy, though, all right." He walked toward the door.

"Thank you," Prowl said.

Ironhide hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder with a bit of a crooked smile, before leaving the room.

The door closed behind him and Prowl looked down again. He was relieved that Ironhide hadn't been angry with him, though the whole conversation had been somewhat forced.

He went back to work. He had a lot to think about and many important decisions to make.

Mirage hadn't had much time to relax over the past several decaorns, so he wasn't too happy to be drawn from the novel he was reading.

He looked up from the datapad with a sigh and answered his comm. "Yes?" he said. "What do you want, Jazz? I just got back from Helex, so if you need someone to go on a mission, send another mech."

"Megs has left Kaon," Jazz replied. "Meaning Soundwave's almost certainly gone too. Ya wanna go sneak inta the Decepticon base for me?"

Mirage had just told him to send someone else. "That pit? No thank you. Can't you go yourself?"

"I mean, I could but I can't turn invisible, and I wanna figure out how ta rescue the soldiers who were captured in Tesarus as quickly as possible. Please, 'Raj…"

"Fine," Mirage turned his datapad off and set it neatly on the corner of his desk. He'd have to get back to it some other orn.

"Come ta my office so I can brief ya on the mission."

Jazz cut the comm. and Mirage left his room and made his way to Jazz's office. Of all the places he'd traveled for the Autobots, Kaon was probably his least favorite. The entire city-state was practically built out of rust.

But he'd go. They did need to rescue the Autobot prisoners.

Jazz's office door was open when Mirage got there, so he stepped inside, crossing his arms.

"Hey, mech," Jazz looked up from his desk. As usual, there were datapads and styluses and empty energon cubes strewn across the desk and the floor, along with what looked like the remains of a computer console that someone had disemboweled.

"So…" He tried to ignore the mess as he shut the door behind himself. He told himself that for all intents and purposes, he really didn't own this tower anymore, so it didn't matter that parts of it looked like a wild symbiot nest. "What would you like me to do?"

"Right," Jazz said. "We're pretty sure Megatron'll be gone for the rest of the orn, and probably next orn too, so ya've got some time. I want ya ta get inta their base and look around. Find out where they're keeping the prisoners, check up on Shockwave, look for any possible escape routes. I don't need ya ta rescue anymech, but—"

"Hold on," Mirage said.

"What?"

"How do you even know Megatron's gone?"

Jazz shrugged. "I have my ways."

"But isn't it impossible to infiltrate the Decepticon command element because of Soundwave?"

"Finding out when Megatron leaves base ain't that hard, but I'm not gonna tell ya how I do it unless it becomes important for ya ta know. Now, I don't want ya ta try and rescue anymech unless there's a really good opportunity, but I want ya ta find all the prisoners. Also, if ya can find out where Megatron's gone, that'd be nice."

Mirage nodded. He figured since he was technically second in command of the department, he ought to know how Jazz was getting information from Kaon. But he didn't want to argue. "Anything else?"

"Updates on Shockwave would be nice, as well as anything ya can figure out about plans and statistics. I'll send ya a list of things ta look for through your datapad."

"All right," Mirage said.

"Oh, and check in every two joors if ya can. And if I don't let ya know before zero joors, Iacon time, that it's time ta leave, just leave. We don't wanna push our luck."

Mirage nodded once more, then activated his mod, and left Jazz's office. Zero joors was when most mecha got up. By the time Mirage got back, he was going to be recharging on his pedes. Oh well. It was all part of the job description.

Orion got up when the secretary beckoned to him. With his guards trailing behind him, he walked back into the Council chamber.

High Councilor Tribute rose as he entered.

"Welcome again, Optimus Prime," the mech said. "We have considered your proposal."

"Thank you. Did you reach a conclusion?" They'd been talking about it for two joors, but that didn't mean anything.

"Yes," Tribute said. "We will agree to your terms, though we are not ready to make an official statement about it. We will maintain a militia here to help protect Polyhex from attack. However, we will not join our militia with your forces. It will be an independent organization."

Orion nodded. That was fair. He was honestly surprised that Polyhex was the first city to make that decision. The rest had wanted to join their forces with the Autobots.

He supposed he was used to the way the Iacon Council twisted everything to their greatest advantage, and refused to cooperate with him. Many of the other Councils were easier to work with.

"We will speak further on this matter when you are ready," he said. "Do you think a decaorn will be long enough for you to finalize your plans?"

Tribute seemed to consider that for a few astroseconds. Then he nodded. "I can make no promises, but we will contact you in a decaorn with an update."

"Thank you again for listening," Orion said. "If that is all, I will take my leave."

The Polyhex Council didn't have anything else to say so Orion left the Council Hall.

He transformed and drove with his guards through the crowded streets of Polyhex. The groundbridge station wasn't very far from the Council Hall, so they hadn't bothered to hire a transport. Orion didn't want to waste the credit anyway, and it felt nice to drive on his own wheels among crowds of mecha.

The aesthetic of Polyhex was very different from that of Iacon. The buildings were painted darker, but there were also more bright, neon colors everywhere—on glowing signs, painted on buildings, and incorporated into the paint jobs of mecha driving alongside him.

It was beautiful. He hoped the city stayed this way. He knew there were a lot of problems here, but there was a lot of culture too.

Over his bond, he felt Elita get excited about something, but barely had time to wonder what it was, because the traffic slowed and he could hear some sort of commotion up ahead. He strained to make out the distant shouting, hoping everyone was all right.

Then a brilliant ball of fire erupted right in front of him, blinding him and engulfing the guard leading the way.

He skidded to a stop, but something crashed into him from the side before he could transform, throwing him off the road.

Plasmatic energon coursed through him, and then darkness engulfed him.

Elita knew Orion could tell their bond was stronger now, but she didn't think it affected him as much as it affected her. She picked up on every nuance of his emotions, every moment of happiness, sorrow, boredom, fear, uncertainty. She could tell when he was winning an argument, or losing one. She felt it every time he entered a trial.

She hated the trials. She hated that they introduced viruses into his processor that put him through unreasonable, impossible ordeals. She didn't think it was necessary, and she didn't think it was right. A part of her was guiltily relieved that she hadn't been bonded to him when he'd been working through the first one, not just because hearing his pain would have been difficult to bear, but because she wouldn't have been able to prevent herself from storming down there and demanding that they stop.

She was worried that there would be more painful ones in the future.

She was also worried about him going into battle. She knew he intended to fight, at least sometimes, and she was afraid she'd feel him get hurt, or offline. She knew she wouldn't survive if he died, and not just because Ratchet had said it. They were part of each other now, even more than the first time they'd been bonded.

He'd been very nervous about talking to the Polyhex Council. He'd been worried they'd refuse to listen and afraid that, as a result, he'd have to withdraw his protection from them.

But she could tell that everything had gone well. He was probably on his way back to the groundbridge station now. His next destination was Gygax, and then he'd come home, but by then it would be the middle of the off-cycle in Iacon, and she would probably already be recharging.

There was a ping on Elita's datapad, which brought her back to the present. She checked her messages, then opened the newest one hurriedly.

[To: Autobot Leadership,

Thank you for your continued interest in meeting with us. We have discussed your petition and, at length, have come to a decision. We do not have much time to waste on you, and this offer only extends to the end of the orn, but we are willing to meet with the Prime at your earliest convenience. Please arrive as quickly as possible,

The High Council of Vos]

Elita read the message again, spark pulsing excitedly. Finally, finally the Vos Council was willing to talk with them. Willing to meet with them, even. She'd have to…

Something happened to Orion.

She felt a sudden spike of surprise and panic through the bond.

Then pain.

Then nothing.

She gasped and dropped her datapad onto the desk. She could still feel him faintly through the bond—He was unconscious, but alive.

And he was in trouble.

Ironhide let out a heavy sigh as he sat across from Jazz with a cube of energon.

"Long orn?" Jazz asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Ironhide said. "Some of these new recruits…" he rolled his optics. "At least you don't have to deal with that."

"Hey, I'm training the mecha in my department too," Jazz said. "That's not always easy, but I guess I don't have as many to deal with as you do."

Ironhide shook his helm. "You don't understand. Half of these idiots don't even know which end of the gun the plasma comes out of."

Jazz shrugged.

"Don't try to tell me you've got it hard. Every time I see you, you're sitting here chatting with someone."

Jazz grinned. "Guess ya picked the wrong department, mech," he said. He really was busy, even though he spent a lot of time in the central room. He had to stay in contact with all of his mecha, and keep track of everything that was going on under the radar. Unofficially, he was also in charge of keeping morale up among the command element, which was sometimes exhausting too.

"I must have," Ironhide said, downing his cube of energon. "Well, I'd love to stay and talk, but unlike you…" he trailed off, frowning, and put a hand to his helm, indicating that he was taking a comm.

Then he stood, suddenly.

"What?" Jazz asked. Ironhide jogged toward the door that led to everyone's offices and rooms. It burst open before he could reach it, and Elita and Moonracer came running in. Then all three of them left.

Jazz got up and walked casually after them, figuring he'd probably want to help with whatever they were so concerned about.

He found them standing just beyond the door, speaking in urgent whispers. They stopped when he stepped into the hall with them.

"What's going on?" Jazz asked.

"Orion's guards aren't responding," Ironhide said. "Something's happened."

Jazz frowned. That didn't sound good. "He's in Polyhex, right?"

Elita nodded, looking very worried. "I think someone must have attacked them or something."

That was an interesting conclusion to jump to. She seemed pretty sure about it though. He frowned at her, and she met his optics and looked away again, as if uncomfortable about something.

"How do ya know?"

Moonracer shook her helm slightly and Elita sighed. "I… I was talking to him over a comm… and then he just cut off with no warning. I'm pretty sure something bad happened to him."

She sounded almost like she was lying.

Why would she be lying?

Jazz told himself it didn't matter—not when Orion could be in danger. "Please tell me Ratchet finished making those tracker things and put one on him."

Elita shook her helm.

"Well, that's great," Jazz said. "Guess we gotta go find him… Have I ever mentioned Polyhex ain't the safest place ta be?"

"I think we all know that," Ironhide said. "Can you find him?"

Jazz shrugged. "I can try," he said. "When were ya on the comm. with him, Elita?"

"Just two breems ago."

"Okay. Do ya know where he was or what he was doing?"

"He was driving to the groundbridge station, from the Council Hall."

That was a good enough start. Jazz commed Mainspring for a groundbridge. "All right," he said out loud. "I'm gonna go look for him."

"I'm coming too," Ironhide said

"So am I," Elita stepped forward.

Jazz shook his helm. "I don't think we wanna put ya in danger like that—"

"I am coming," she insisted.

Mainspring answered his comm. "Good orn, Jazz. What can I do for you?"

"We've got a situation," Jazz said. "I'm gonna need a two-way groundbridge from the tower ta the middle of Polyhex, right now."

Orion felt like something was pulling on him, dragging him toward consciousness… Elita… Something was wrong…

He came to suddenly and un-shuttered his optics. Over the bond, he felt Elita reach out, surprised and worried and desperate. He tried to send comforting feelings back, though he could barely see and he still felt shaky from whatever it was they'd used to knock him unconscious.

"Hey, he's awake."

"What? That should have knocked him out for a couple of joors."

Orion tried to sit up. His comm. wasn't working, and his hands were stasis-cuffed in front of him. It took him an astrosecond or two to realize those two things were probably related. What had happened? He seemed to be in a small, rectangular room, and he could feel it shaking, as if it was moving.

A transport—he was on a transport. Three other mecha with guns sat around him, watching him.

"Oh, well," one of them said. "Doesn't matter."

He'd been kidnapped.

"Maybe it's 'cuz he's a Prime," one of them suggested. "Maybe we shouldn't have…" He trailed off as the mech who hadn't spoken yet glared at him.

"Good orn," Orion said, maneuvering into a kneeling position. "Perhaps we can… discuss this?" he raised his stasis-cuffed hands a little.

"Not with you," the third mech said. "Maybe with the Council, or your friends. Keep quiet, and don't ask questions and we won't need to hurt you. Understand?"

They were going to hold him for ransom then. Orion shuttered his optics and took in a deep vent.

"And don't try anything." The mech said. "Or expect a rescue. They probably don't even know you're gone yet."

They did know he was gone. And they were coming for him. Orion just needed to figure out where he was and find a way to communicate that to them. Maybe his captors would let something slip.

"I doubt that the Iacon Council would pay very much for me," he said. "I am not exactly in their good graces."

"I said no talking," the mech who seemed to be in charge pulled an energon prod out from subspace and turned it on so plasmatic energon sparked at the end of it. "And I meant it."

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out slowly, trying to stay calm and think. He looked around the transport. The interior was fairly standard, and it had a door in the back instead of on the side. He wondered if it was sentient. If so, it might be hard to get out, but if not, the door would be unlocked. If Orion could get far enough away from these mecha, and find a way to get the stasis-cuffs off, he would probably be able to comm. Elita with his coordinates. He just needed to distract them and get out of the transport somehow.

Actually, if he timed things right, he might not need to get the cuffs off to send a message. He studied the door, then looked down, planning out exactly what he was about to do. Then he took another deep vent, and sent reassurance in advance over his bond with Elita. "The Autobots can't pay you," he said. "Please…"

The mech with the energon prod, true to his threat, thrust the weapon toward him.

Orion brought his hands up and caught the tip of it with the stasis cuffs. The plasmatic energon hurt a lot worse than he had expected, but for just one moment, it shorted the cuffs out and he managed to send a message.

Then he sprang forward, ignoring the pain. He knocked the mech with the prod over and got to his pedes in time to slam another one of his kidnappers into the wall.

The third mech fired his gun, but Orion dodged and bowled him over as well, even as the first two mechs were getting back up.

Orion rammed his shoulder into the button for the back door and it folded in on itself, revealing a dark underground street.

"Hey!"

"Stop him!"

Orion leaped out of the transport and hit the ground in a roll. It was awkward because of his stasis-cuffed hands, and he felt like one of his arms was nearly pulled out of its socket. He fought to get up again as he heard the transport skid to a stop, and then running pedesteps behind him.

He was barely standing when something hit him from behind and he toppled. He tried to catch himself, but with an injured shoulder and his hands tied in front of him it didn't work very well.

He made it to elbows and knees before his kidnappers reached him. Someone shoved him back to the ground.

"Maybe I'll sell you to Megatron instead." The mech growled in his audio. "Think he'll care how many pieces you're in?"

Suddenly, Orion felt like his back was on fire. He screamed, and for a moment he thought he was going to black out again.

"Boss! Boss, someone might have heard that."

"Come on, let's get him back in the transport."

The weight left Orion's back, but he didn't feel like fighting anymore. He kept his optics shuttered and his denta gritted against the pain as he was dragged roughly to his pedes.

Then he heard running pedesteps, coming from the other direction this time.

Elita stepped through the groundbridge onto a crowded sidewalk. Somewhere up ahead, there was smoke rising from the street, and she could hear the distant sound of sirens.

Then she felt Orion come online and reached out to him. Where was he? Was he all right?

He sent her a reassuring feeling, but she wasn't convinced.

"Let's check that out," Jazz said casually and slipped through the jostling crowd toward the commotion ahead.

"Hey!" Ironhide said, but Jazz had already disappeared.

Orion didn't feel badly hurt, but he was definitely scared. She tried comming him, but it didn't go through.

"Fine then," Ironhide growled. "Out of the way! Move!" He started shoving through the crowd. Elita followed him closely as they made their way toward the smoke.

She couldn't see what was happening up ahead, but the sound of enforcer sirens got louder as they went.

Then, suddenly, Jazz was next to her again.

"'Hide," he said, and Ironhide turned around.

"Where the frag did you go? Don't just ditch us like that."

"Sorry," Jazz said, lip plates set in a grim line. "I went up ta see what was happening up there. Apparently there was some kinda commotion up the road, and then while traffic was slowed down, there were a couple of explosions. The blast killed some mecha, including at least one of Orion's guards."

Elita's spark sank.

"I didn't see Orion's frame," Jazz said. "But if this was some kinda assassination attempt, he was probably the target. He could be…"

Elita shook her helm. She could still feel him over the bond.

"I'm sorry," Jazz said. "But…"

"He's not offline," she said.

"Well, we don't know for sure…"

"Look," Ironhide said. "Let's not give up until we've found his frame." He sent Elita an internal comm. "Can you feel him?"

"Yes. He's close, and he's conscious again."

Ironhide nodded.

"What?" Jazz asked.

"Do you know what direction he's in?"

"No," Elita said, feeling helpless. "Though it feels like he's getting farther away."

"Ya wanna go back there and talk ta the enforcers?" Jazz asked. "See if they know something?"

Orion reached out to her over the bond with what almost felt like a warning.

"Elita?" Ironhide said.

Suddenly, he was in a lot of pain. She gasped and grabbed Ironhide's arm to steady herself.

"Hey," he said, concerned. "What? What happened?"

She got a message through her comm. from Orion. A set of coordinates.

Then the pain faded, but he was still stressed—almost panicked.

"What?" Ironhide demanded again as she pushed away from him.

"I'm fine," she said. "Orion just commed me. He sent me coordinates. He's alive." She passed them along to Jazz and Ironhide.

"I'll get us another bridge," Jazz said.

Elita winced as another spike of pain came over the bond.

"Come on, we've gotta get outta this crowd," Jazz said.

Elita followed Ironhide off the sidewalk, and down a narrow side street. There was a third, larger spike of pain, but she tried not to react. As much as she knew Orion trusted Jazz, she didn't think he should know about their bond.

A bridge opened in front of them, and she followed Jazz and Ironhide through onto a gloomy, underground street. Far ahead, she could see a transport with its back door open, and several mecha behind it.

Orion was standing between two others who were dragging him toward the transport.

Ironhide and Jazz sprinted toward the mecha, and Elita ran with them. One of the kidnappers turned around just in time for Ironhide to shoot him in the helm. The other one let go of Orion and ran. A third mech engaged Ironhide, but Elita didn't pay much attention to the fight. She watched as Orion sank to his knees, facing away from her. Energon flowed down his back from a long gash just below his shoulder.

She skidded to a stop beside him. "Orion!"

He un-shuttered his optics and smiled at her, but he was trembling with pain.

"You'll be okay," she said, and took his faceplate in her hands, afraid to embrace him because of his wound. She was trembling as well. "We found you. You'll be okay."

"I know."

Elita shuttered her optics, feeling sick. She tried to tell her pounding spark that everything would be fine—they'd get Orion back to Mirage's tower and Ratchet would repair him.

But that had been too close. They'd almost lost him.

She'd almost lost him.

Jazz came roaring back in alt mode, towing one of the kidnappers behind him. He transformed when he reached them, and let go of the rope that was tying the semi-conscious mech's pedes together. "The frag, 'Hide?" he said. "Did ya offline both of yours? I told ya—"

"Sorry," Ironhide growled, glaring down the road at the distant rectangle that was the back of the transport, just as the gloom swallowed it. "You let one of yours get away."

"Well, at least—"

"Let's just go home," Ironhide said. I'll comm. Mainspring for a bridge."

Elita carefully helped Orion to his pedes, and Ironhide came to support him from the other side as the groundbridge opened in front of them.