Orion hadn't told anyone about his deal with the Council. He knew they'd try to talk him out of it—not for his own sake alone, but also because it could be dangerous for the Autobots as a whole. Orion was certain the Council thought they had him outmaneuvered. But he was also certain they didn't fully understand the deal themselves. So long as the war continued, they would be obliged to help him, and there were hints in the Covenant of Primus that the war would go on for a very long time. Furthermore, they underestimated Ultra Magnus's worth. For the few decaorns that he'd been part of the command element, meetings had been more focused and consistent, and his leadership experience and stabilizing presence were invaluable.

Even so, Orion knew his agreement with the Council might come back to bite him later. If and when the Autobots defeated the Decepticons, Orion would be fully under their command. When the time came, he would honor that oath to the best of his ability and hope that no one got hurt because of it. But, for now, this was his best option.

He entered the Council Hall and stood before them—all of them were present except for Alpha Trion who had resigned.

After exchanging false pleasantries with High Councilor Halogen, Orion recited the oath they had agreed on. It gave him the power to refuse to do what the Council asked, but only if it interfered with the overall objective of the Autobot cause which was to protect the world and defeat Megatron.

After the war was over, though, Orion would be barely more than a slave to them.

Ultra Magnus would be free, though, and would be able to act as his second-in-command for the duration of the war, and the Council would be fully invested in the outcome as well. The short term benefits were enough, for now.

When Orion was finished reading the oath, they gave him a datapad with an official document relieving Ultra Magnus from his oaths. He took it with him when he left. He'd half expected the Council to start making demands, but they had just said they'd be in touch.

He drove from the Council Hall to the neighborhood where the Autobot soldiers lived. Ultra Magnus was being kept there temporarily. Ratchet had removed the recording device from his helm, and he had made no attempts to leave Autobot custody, but he'd also refused to stay in Mirage's tower until everything was sorted out with the Council.

He stood when Orion entered the room they were keeping him in, and Orion handed him the datapad the Council had given him. Magnus turned it on and read it silently. Orion watched as the other mech's optics reached the bottom of the file.

"You are free now to do whatever you want," Orion said.

"Thank you," Ultra Magnus spoke softly, almost reverently. "I am eternally indebted to you, Prime, Sir."

"No," Orion protested. "You don't owe me anything."

"What did you… Sir, what did you give in return for this?"

"That is not important," Orion said, trying to keep the discomfort out of his voice. "The Council was surprisingly reasonable."

"They will attempt to deceive you."

"I know," Orion said. "But all will be well. For now… I don't want to presume anything, but if you still want to be an Autobot…"

"Yes, of course," Ultra Magnus said. "I would be honored to serve you, now that I am free from the Council."

"Good," Orion said. "This orn, I want you to come to our meeting and I will formally introduce you to everyone and reinstate you as second in command."

"Are you certain they will trust me?"

He sounded like Prowl. "What matters is that I trust you," Orion said. "And they trust me. Thank you for being willing to accept this position. It's a lot of work, not to mention dangerous."

"Again, I'm the one who should thank you, Sir," Ultra Magnus said. "And I will do anything you ask."

Orion nodded. "I will see you in three joors then." He left again. He needed to go train with Yoketron and attempt that trial again. It was so hard to let go of the things he wanted in order to reach that beacon. He wasn't so good at it in real life either, he knew. He wondered if he would regret making that oath to serve the Council.

Probably.

But he had to tell himself it was worth the risk.

"So…" Sideswipe said. "I have a question."

The big mech frowned at him in a way that said something along the lines of sparkling, you do not want to mess with me.

The energon hall was noisy and crowded, but everyone tended to stay away from the back corner where these mecha sat.

"Well?" the mech demanded.

"I've heard about you," Sideswipe said. "You're Impactor, leader of the Wreckers, right?"

"Was that your question?"

"Um, no. How does one join the Wreckers?"

The mech narrowed his optics, and Sideswipe could feel the other mecha at the table staring at him too.

"Is there like an application? Do you have to do something awesome in a battle? I'm pretty sure my brother and I are Wrecker material."

He saw Impactor glance at Sunstreaker and raise an optic ridge.

"We're twins by the way," Sideswipe said. "Split-spark. It gives us an edge when we're—"

"Spare me the resume," Impactor said. "You join the Wreckers by invitation and unfortunately for you, you can't invite yourself."

"What if we prove ourselves?" Sideswipe said. These mecha had basically saved the army in Tesarus, and rumor had it they got to go on all kinds of cool missions. He and Sunny definitely belonged in their unit.

"Nope," Impactor said. "First off, you talk too much. Secondly, I just told you you can't invite yourself onto my team. So frag off."

"What if someone was assigned to you?" Sideswipe said. "Would you have to include them then?"

"No."

"Don't you answer to Jazz?"

"We listen to Jazz," Impactor said. "We don't answer to anyone."

And that was another reason Sideswipe wanted in. "I promise you won't regret it after you see what we can do."

"Look, mechling," Impactor turned his attention back to his cube of energon. "I know your type. You're a mouthy troublemaker with an inflated helm. You aren't Wrecker material—go hang out with the other sparkling soldiers where you belong."

Sideswipe hesitated, then turned and walked away, feeling hurt. There'd been no call for that. And he'd show this mech he was wrong.

Springer let out a low whistle as the two mechs walked away.

"Wow," Rotostorm said. "That was a bit harsh."

Impactor nodded. "Life is harsh."

"I'm a mouthy troublemaker," Springer said. "You're not going to kick me out, are you?"

"Don't tempt me," Impactor said flatly. "But no, I've worked with you before and seen you fight, and I know you understand this isn't some kind of game."

"I'm just saying…"

"If you think there might be potential there, you can keep an optic on them and let me know," Impactor said.

Springer shrugged. "Nah, you're probably right."

Orion stepped into the crystal garden. He was surprised to see Prowl in the courtyard. He'd asked the mech to tell Yoketron he would be late for training, but he hadn't expected Prowl to come here personally.

He stood off to the side, watching the other two go through what looked like some sort of warm-up routine together.

When they finished, they both turned to look at Orion.

"Welcome," Yoketron said. "Prowl made your excuses for you, so I will forgive you for being abysmally late. Unfortunately, he's not fit for any sparring yet, so we will have to practice without him. Prowl, you are free to go."

"Thank you, Master Yoketron," Prowl bowed and left. Orion watched him go. He felt a twinge of guilt every time he saw the Praxian lately, because he really shouldn't have sent the mech to Vos. It was in the past and he had apologized, but he still felt terrible.

"How is he really?" Orion asked, once Prowl was far enough gone that he probably wouldn't be able to hear, even with doorwings.

"His wound is more severe than he pretends," Yoketron said. "But he will be all right. I don't think he's doing anything too strenuous, but he's not getting enough recharge either. I spoke with him about that, so perhaps he'll try harder to take care of himself."

Orion nodded. "Thank you."

"How about you?" Yoketron said. "I know you are not physically injured, but last time we spoke, you were quite troubled about the events in Vos."

"I'm doing better," Orion said. "I still… well, obviously I'm still horrified every time I think about what happened, but… it helps that things have been looking up since then. We rescued many prisoners last orn."

"Ah," Yoketron said. "I heard about that."

"At least that all went according to plan, thanks to Jazz and his mecha."

Yoketron nodded. "You know… I am glad Jazz has finally decided to use his talents for good, though I'd still be careful of him if I were you."

"I trust him," Orion said.

"I don't doubt his intentions as much as I doubt his judgment," Yoketron said. "But we aren't here to discuss your choice in commanding officers. How much time do you have this orn?"

"I should be able to attempt the trial once or twice after training," Orion said.

"Good. Then let us begin by meditating for a few breems."

After they were done meditating, Yoketron taught him a few new circuit-su techniques and they practiced for a while. It was easier to learn when sparring with Prowl, and Orion had missed that since the Praxian had been injured.

But practicing Circuit-Su was better than the trials.

Too soon, Yoketron called a halt.

"You are not doing as well as I would like," he said. "But, then again, you don't have much time for practicing."

Orion sighed. "Do you think I'll ever be good at it? Fighting, I mean?"

"I think you will," Yoketron said. "If you learn to use your cleverness, you can outmaneuver opponents who are stronger or faster than you. And coordination will come with practice. The Matrix will help with it too."

Orion nodded. It seemed like the Matrix came up lately whenever he complained to Yoketron of not feeling adequate.

Now that he had sworn an oath to the Council, he ought to redouble his efforts to talk them into giving him the key to Vector Sigma ahead of time. He would feel much more comfortable with it in his possession.

"Orion?"

"Just thinking," Orion said.

"About what?"

Orion shook his helm. "Receiving the Matrix. I need the key to Vector Sigma."

"You can cross that bridge when you get there," Yoketron said. "Though I do admit it would be better if Councilor Halogen didn't have the key."

"I know."

"For now, let us consider the tasks at hand. You have not been making much progress on this trial."

"I'm sorry," Orion said. "But it's so hard to turn my back on mecha who need my help."

"I understand that," Yoketron said.

"And…" Orion said. "The beacon seems so arbitrary…"

"I was speaking to Maccadam last orn," Yoketron said. "And I brought up the fact that you were struggling with this trial."

"What did he say?" Orion asked.

"He said to tell you this," Yoketron met his optics. "If you reach the beacon, all of those mecha will be safe."

Orion thought about that.

"There's more than a little truth to that statement," Yoketron continued. "It's just a simulation to begin with. Think of that beacon as a larger goal—a solution that will solve all of your smaller problems."

"Like defeating Megatron would end the war?" Orion asked.

"You could make that analogy, yes," Yoketron said. "Though, as I'm sure you know, that situation is a little more complicated. Remember, this is merely a trial. Don't over-think it. Focus on your goal and tell yourself that once you reach it, everything else in the trial will work out."

Orion nodded.

"Are you ready to begin?"

Orion took in a deep vent. "I think so."

Mainspring had commed him four times. Mirage was finally fed up with it, and he answered. "I presume you want me to come talk to you."

There was silence for a moment. "Well, yes."

"And you're not going to leave me alone, are you? I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"I just want to talk to you."

Mirage sighed heavily. "I'll be there in a breem." He cut the comm.

It had been two orns since he'd been rescued. He really was fine now… sometimes. Sometimes he'd go talk to Blurr or other mecha he knew, and feel normal, and other times he wanted nothing more than to disappear for several joors. He was generally in a bad mood still, but he attributed that to the fact that he was having a hard time recharging, so he was tired.

But either way, Mainspring had no right to pester him so much.

He stormed through the halls and didn't talk to anyone until he got to Mainspring's office, where he opened the door without bothering to request entry and walked in.

The door slid shut behind him, and Mainspring looked up from his desk.

"I really don't appreciate this, you know," Mirage said. "I know you and Jazz are worried about me, but I assure you, I am fine."

Mainspring took a deep vent. "Come sit down," he said.

"I will not," Mirage said. "This is my home. I don't have to let all of you stay here if I don't want and you can't tell me…" he cut himself off and looked at the ground, crossing his arms. He needed to stop letting his emotions get the better of him, but he was just so angry at them for bothering him. Angry at them for caring so much... What was wrong with him?

"Mirage, of course we're worried about you," Mainspring said.

"There's nothing wrong with me," Mirage snapped, still looking at the ground.

Mainspring took his time answering. Mirage knew that his actions were not consistent with what he was saying, but he didn't care. It wasn't about convincing Mainspring he was fine, it was about convincing Mainspring to leave him alone.

"From my limited experience, I don't think this is the sort of thing you can just shrug off, my friend."

Mirage didn't move.

"It's understandable to be angry at us for pestering you."

"I…" Mirage shuttered his optics.

"And it's understandable that you want to be left alone, and that you don't want to talk about it."

"Then why do you keep insisting that I come here?"

"Please sit down."

"I'm not falling into that trap."

Mainspring was silent for a few astroseconds. "You feel as if we're trying to trap you?"

Mirage didn't look up. "Aren't you?" he said. "Didn't you plan this? Don't you want me to sit down and spell out all my feelings so you can pick through them and examine them."

Mainspring's optics widened. "Mirage…"

"I don't need that!" Mirage said. "I don't want someone to play mind games with me so they can try to patch up my mental state! I just need you to leave me alone! I just…" Mirage realized he was standing right up against the desk, looming over Mainspring, who looked almost afraid.

Mirage leaned back and stared at the floor. Mainspring didn't say anything else for him to snap at, so after a few more astroseconds, he sank down into the chair, scowling. "Happy now?" he demanded. "I'm sitting down."

Mainspring didn't answer, and Mirage felt guilty, but not that guilty.

"Well?" he said.

"It's all right that you're angry with me, Mirage," Mainspring said. "I expected you would be."

Mirage glared at him.

"I'm not trying to fix you and I know you need time to process things."

"Then why am I here?"

"I don't care if you're angry at me," Mainspring repeated. "But I want to make sure you aren't angry at yourself."

"Why would I be angry with myself?" He had broken. He'd told the Decepticons what they'd wanted to know. Anything for a break, for the short relief that information had bought him. And now he couldn't seem to get over this. He couldn't seem to get the memories out of his helm. He was so pathetically weak.

"It's a common thing to place the blame for suffering on someone or something, and the nearest and easiest target is often oneself."

"Don't spout nonsense at me."

"Are you angry at yourself?"

"What do you think?" Mirage said through gritted denta.

Mainspring didn't answer, just watched him in a calm, expectant sort of way.

Well, Mirage's dignity had completely abandoned him and he'd been acting like a sparkling since leaving his room. He didn't have anything to lose. "I…" he took a deep vent in and looked down at his hands. "I thought I'd be able to… if something like that happened, I'd be stronger. I broke so easily. I… Not only was my mission a complete waste of time, I almost gave Megatron a second telepath. We're just lucky that Jazz anticipated my failure and moved Blaster," he finished bitterly.

"Mirage, I think…"

"Don't try to tell me I had unrealistic expectations… believe me, I found that out."

"Do you know how long you'd been a prisoner when the Decepticons showed up to look for Blaster?"

Mirage didn't answer.

"It was more than an orn after your report indicates that Soundwave caught you. So, unless the Decepticons decided to wait quite a while before going to kidnap him, you did a lot better than you think. If you'd told them right away, we wouldn't have had time to move him."

Mirage buried his faceplate in his hands.

"Don't be angry at yourself. You didn't fail, and you certainly didn't do anything wrong. I'm willing to be patient with you and let you work through everything on your own, but only if you're willing to be patient with yourself."

Mirage took in a deep, slow vent.

"All right?"

He sighed. "All right."

"Good," Mainspring said.

"I'm… sorry for being rude," Mirage said.

"I forgive you," Mainspring smiled kindly. "I hope expressing your frustration made you feel a little better."

"It did," Mirage admitted. "Though I won't thank you because I still resent you for planning this." He sighed again. "At the same time, I've probably sulked long enough." He got up. "Do you need me for anything else?"

Mainspring shook his helm. "No, unless there's anything else you want to talk about."

"Maybe in a few more orns," Mirage said, then turned his mod on and headed for the door.

He felt exhausted, but he had to admit it was a more pleasant kind of exhaustion than before. It was the kind of exhaustion that might just lead to him getting some actual recharge.

Inferno sat down at the table and set his datapad down in front of him. They'd started meeting in Red Alert's office, though he was pretty sure that was because there wasn't an unused, secure room, due to how crowded this tower was.

"Okay," he said, when Red Alert didn't start the conversation. "I was thinking about the west wing, and we might want to move the entrances to make it easier to evacuate. Have you seen the building site? I stopped by after we talked last orn, to make sure everything was going right. I had to point out a few things to the head of the construction crew there, but I think it's all fixed now."

"Good," Red Alert said, though he sounded somewhat distracted… that was unusual.

Inferno looked up. "What?" he said.

Red Alert shook his helm. "Show me where you want to put the doors."

Inferno pulled up the schematics for the new Autobot base and spun the datapad around. He enlarged the virtual version of the building and pointed out the places where he didn't think the entrances provided the best possibilities for evacuation, explaining what he wanted to change, and why. Red Alert agreed with most of it, but there were a few doors he wanted to keep where they were for various reasons.

They talked it over for several breems, and then made some decisions. Inferno would go update the mech in charge of construction after their meeting. They'd keep an open external comm. going as well, so Red Alert could listen in on that conversation.

It was a little excessive, maybe, but Inferno didn't really think of it as an invasion of privacy, just a way for Red Alert to have some presence at the construction site without actually having to travel there.

"Was there anything else?" Red Alert asked.

"Yes, actually," Inferno said. "I might have brought this up before, but I wanted to get your opinion again on some of the ventilation shafts. Our current plan for them makes them large enough that a small mech could crawl inside of them. I feel like that makes infiltration more possible. I mean, if we're careful, and monitor them, then maybe we could catch someone trying to get in. But if we make them smaller…"

"A symbiot could still get in," Red Alert said. "And if we make them small enough that the smallest symbiots can't get in, then we don't have much ventilation. Health codes are important."

"Yes," Inferno said. "That is true."

"We can put cameras in them," Red Alert said. "That's what we did in Perceptor's house. I've thought of this too. The vents can double as secret passages. We can also build utility tunnels underneath to do the same. The most important thing to control is where you can and can't exit the facility. We need to be able to keep a spy out. Once a spy's in, you want to keep the spy in and capture him."

"Right," Inferno said. "I'll double check all of the exits and entrances. We should build in a protocol that locks the place down and closes off all vents and entrances."

"That's a good idea," Red Alert said. "We need a failsafe, though—just in case that's ever used against us."

"Of course," Inferno said. "I'll work on plans for that. So do you want to get rid of some of the other passages that we had planned since you're going to use the vents as secret passages?"

"A few of them," Red Alert looked kind of distant again. "I'll… look at the schematics again and make a decision."

Silence fell.

"Is… everything okay?" Inferno asked.

"Yes," Red Alert said. "Well, no, but we're having a war, so of course not everything's okay. But before we talk more about the schematics for the base…"

Inferno waited for him to continue. Red Alert was watching him carefully. He looked a little bit frightened. That was fairly normal, but something about this felt different.

"Now this project's nearing completion, you're nearing the end of your usefulness. I won't need you to work for me as an architect after the base is built."

Inferno hadn't thought about that. As amazing as it would be to see his blueprint become an actuality, he would kind of miss the challenge of building it. This project had been the most interesting thing he'd ever worked on in his life.

"However, I am actually looking for trustworthy mecha to help me run the security around here."

In fact, he doubted he'd ever get to design a building as cool as… wait. "What?"

"I'm offering to promote you to second in command of security," Red Alert said, shooting him a suspicious glare. "Please don't think this means I trust you… I just… trust you more than anyone else who isn't already busy doing something else. Besides, you've got a knack for noticing security threats."

"Really?" Inferno said. "I… I don't know."

He glanced at Red Alert and saw a well-hidden hint of desperation in the other mech's optics. "I know I'm not the easiest mech to work with, but I have no one else in my department besides security guards, who don't really have clearance for much. It's just me. And if something happens to me…"

"Sorry, I'm not saying no—you just surprised me," Inferno said. "Let me think about this for a breem. You want me to be second in command of security? I… I'm honored… are you sure I'm qualified, though?"

"Yes," Red Alert said. "Believe me, you're more qualified than anyone else I've considered. You're inexperienced, but you're intelligent, and that's almost better in some ways. I need an answer now, though."

Inferno glanced over at the monitor screens that lined one wall, then looked back at Red Alert. He had pledged his spark to this cause. He hadn't really expected to use his skills as an architect, and had been ecstatic when he'd been given the opportunity to do that. This was something different, though. This was a lot more responsibility, and probably a lot more work.

It would probably be more interesting and less life-threatening than a career as a soldier, though. "Okay," he said. "I'm in. I'll do it." He could hardly believe the words leaving his lip plates.

"Good," Red Alert said. "Unfortunately, we don't have a room for you in the tower unless we want to put you down in Mirage's vaults, which he usually gets upset about. But I'll expect you to be here every orn. Right now, you'll still mostly be working on the new base project, but I'll start training you on other things as well."

"Starting this orn?" Inferno said.

"Yes," Red Alert said.

"Sounds good," Inferno said.

"And we'll make your position official at the meeting this orn, which you will be attending." He shot Inferno another suspicious look that said clearly he would be watching carefully.

That was okay. Inferno didn't really have anything to hide, so he wasn't really worried.

From advisory architect to second in command of the security department in one orn.

That was quite a leap.

Vos was about to fall.

Orion just had to reach the engine room in time to stop the charges from blowing. He could stop this—he could prevent it from happening.

Prowl's message had played seven breems ago. He still had three breems.

He got to the doors, but they were locked.

"Hey!" someone shouted and Orion turned to see a seeker running toward him. "What are you doing?"

"Megatron has planted bombs in your city's engines," Orion explained. "We have to find and defuse them before it's too late."

"Don't even think about it," the seeker sneered as two more came around the corner and sprinted toward Orion. "I know you're really here to tamper with the engines yourself. We've checked them already and there are no bombs. Besides why would Megatron ruin his relationship with Vos? You're the one trying to sabotage us."

"No," Orion said as the other seekers reached him and grabbed his arms. "You have to believe me. You—"

Suddenly, Orion was in a colorless room, facing an annoyed-looking teal mech.

"Well, that was pathetic," Micronus said.

Orion sighed as reality settled in. That had been a trial. He'd barely even started heading toward the beacon before Prowl's message had played and he'd completely forgotten about everything but preventing the fall of Vos.

"You've got one more attempt," Micronus said. "Might as well give it up—at this rate, you won't be a Prime for ten vorns."

Orion didn't have that time.

He had to finish the trial now. This orn. He had one last attempt before he returned to the real world. "Give me an astrosecond to collect myself," he said.

He was going to finish this time.

"No," Micronus snapped. "Follow me." He walked through the toneless wall. Orion sighed and followed him.

He was standing on the plains between Tarn and Doradus, watching Vos fall in the distance.

He had been too late.

Despair colored his core. The city was falling. The seekers…

The beacon.

He turned quickly, looking for it.

There it was, in the exact opposite direction from Vos.

The falling city demanded his attention. It was almost mesmerizing to watch. But Orion turned away from it with effort and set out toward the beacon instead, running.

It was hard to tell himself that Vos would be fine if he just reached the beacon, since he knew it was already too late to save the city.

But telling himself there was nothing he could do seemed to work almost as well.

He heard a seeker's engine behind him and steeled himself. He couldn't allow anything to distract him. He had to reach that beacon this time.

The seeker flew past him and landed in front of him, blocking his way. "Optimus Prime!" the mech said. "The Council will speak with you now. They want to hear your side of the story."

The Council would speak with him…

But he needed to get to that beacon. He didn't have time.

He kept going. The seeker kept pace, begging first, then growing angry. He shouted that it was Orion's fault the seekers didn't trust him—his fault they were going to join Megatron.

It was his fault.

Because he hadn't moved against his former friend when he'd had a chance.

He couldn't make that mistake here. He had to keep going toward the beacon.

More seekers appeared—some injured and in need of help, some angry. Alpha Trion showed up and ordered him to turn back and do his duty as a Prime by helping the mecha of Vos.

Then, off to the side, he saw a shuttle falling from the sky.

That was Tradewind.

He hesitated as he watched her drop. She was going too fast. What was wrong?

They had to pull up or they were going to crash.

He knew somehow that she was carrying his friends. Ironhide was on that transport.

Elita was on that transport.

With monumental effort, he kept his pedes moving toward the beacon. He reached out to Elita over their bond, though. He had to keep walking, but he wanted to be there for her too.

A distant crash heralded Tradewind's collision. Orion felt pain over the bond, and stumbled, but kept going. Elita was hurt. She was dying. He could feel it.

She begged him for help, pleaded with him to come find her.

He stopped.

What was he doing? He could save her if he just went back and pulled her from the wreckage. He didn't want to lose her again.

He couldn't lose her again.

He turned to the side…

And felt peace over the bond. A second set of emotions.

The real Elita.

This was a trial.

Orion took in a deep vent and continued toward the beacon. The false emotions from the trial Elita disappeared and his way was clear again.

But not for long.

"Optimus Prime!" High Councilor Halogen barred his way. "We demand to speak with you."

"I don't have time," he muttered as he hurried past the mech and the other members of the Iacon Council who stood behind him.

"Not one more step!" Halogen said. "Or we will publish your oath for the whole world to read."

Orion froze.

"You wouldn't want them to know you were lying all along about being in league with us." Halogen said.

Orion spun. "I am not in league with you."

"That's not what it will look like to them," Halogen said. "In fact, have you even told any of your friends about your oath?"

Orion looked down.

"I wonder what they will think about it."

"You know the oath means very little until the war is over," Orion said. "What do you want from me?"

"We have thought of a way to get rid of Megatron and end the war quickly. Surely you can't claim that interferes with the Autobot cause."

That… could be a problem. Orion turned away from the grand councilmech and saw the beacon.

The beacon.

Oh no…

Orion sprinted away from them toward it. Buildings rose up out of nowhere, and a crowd of mecha materialized in the streets, shouting at him, accusing him of lying, of selling out to the Council. He did his best to ignore them and hurried to get to the beacon.

He got close enough to see the device that was sending the great beam of light up into the atmosphere, but not close enough to touch it.

The world dissolved around him and then rearranged into the crystal garden.

Orion slumped forward, defeated.

"Well?" Master Yoketron said.

"I came so close." Orion realized he was shaking. "On the last try, at least."

And it had been so stupid. It had been Halogen, of all mecha. This time, Orion had failed for selfish reasons—because he'd wanted to protect his public image.

"What stopped you?" Master Yoketron asked.

Of course he would ask. Orion didn't know what to tell him. He didn't want to admit that he'd made an agreement with the Council without consulting his friends. "I… it's not important."

"Really?" Yoketron raised an optic ridge.

"It was… the Council. Trying to blackmail me. I can't believe I fell for that. It wasn't even helping other mecha this time, it was just helping myself."

Yoketron sighed and sat down across from him.

"I'm…"

"Disappointed in yourself?" Yoketron asked.

Orion nodded, fighting back a wave of bitter shame in his core.

"It is understandable to be frightened of the Council," Yoketron said. "But you must remember, they don't own you."

Orion squeezed his optics shut. In a way, they did own him now. "But… they think they do."

The was a smile in Yoketron's voice. "If so, then they are fools," he said. "The Iacon Council is destined for the scrap heap, and its members know that, which is why they are trying so desperately to cling to the last semblance of their power. Orion, it doesn't matter what they threaten, I promise they're more afraid of you than you are of them. Don't forget that."

That was only somewhat comforting.

"Thank you, Master Yoketron." Orion stood. "I… should go."

"Very well. I will see you next orn."

Orion turned and left the crystal garden.

Shockwave looked up when Megatron entered the room. He knew he was not working as quickly as the other mech wanted. But he also hadn't received all of the materials that he had asked for, so some of his projects were impossible to work on at the moment.

"Good orn, Lord Megatron," he said.

"Shockwave," Megatron said. "You seem to keep yourself busy, but I haven't seen a single weapon come out of your research."

"I have mentioned I need Decepticon volunteers," Shockwave said. "Preferably warriors."

"Yes," Megatron said. "I want to see what you have planned, though, before I let you waste my good, fighting mecha in your experiments."

Shockwave nodded. That was only fair. He went over to his computer terminal. "I have recently been investigating legends from before the Quintesson wars," he said.

"Really?" Megatron was probably surprised. He must assume that legends were not the most logical place to look for technology. But mecha before the Quintesson wars had been far more advanced than the present.

The research he was doing—he hoped it would be the bridge.

"The ancients could do many things that we have lost knowledge of," Shockwave said. "But I believe several of those will be made possible by my discoveries. This is the first thing I would like to try." He pulled up a file on the computer console and showed Megatron the schematics.

Megatron was quiet for a while, reading and watching as the schematic on the screen transformed, and then transformed back. "I have not heard legends of this," he said.

"They do exist," Shockwave said.

"Hmm…" Megatron said. "I see how this could be very useful. Not your typical weapon, but certainly an asset. You will have your volunteers. How soon can this be ready?"

"I can only give you an estimate," Shockwave said. "A few decaorns at the soonest."

"I want you to make this your top priority. I'd like to test one of those in our next battle."

"That is not advisable," Shockwave said. "This will require some core alterations, and the risk of termination is much higher if the test subjects do not have time in between operations to recover."

"Do what you can," Megatron said. "If you aren't ready by the time we go against the Autobots again, so be it, but do your best."

He left.

Shockwave went back to work.