The room was small, dimly-lit, and empty except for a berth that barely fit along the wall. It was also uncomfortably warm—even with his vents on high, Orion's engine was threatening to overheat.

What…?

The door opened and Orion turned to see Ironhide standing in the doorway, looking grim.

"We have to get back to base," he said. "Come on."

"Wait…?" Orion muttered, trying to figure out where he was. "What's going on? This is…" He remembered. "This is a trial, isn't it?"

To his surprise, Ironhide answered. "Yes. And Prowl just contacted me. He says we've learned something new about that weapon Megatron's been making threats about. It must be bad news because he wants to talk to you in person. In any case, we have to get back to base. Groundbridges are down but we can make it back in a joor or two if we drive. Come on."

"All right," Orion said.

The trial hadn't started with any sort of instructions, so he would have to discover its objective on his own. For now, he could probably just follow Ironhide and figure it out as he went.

He stepped out of the room and into a larger one—this one crammed with soldiers who saluted him as soon as he entered.

"All right, mechs," Ironhide said. "We need to get back to base as quickly as possible. Don't stop for anything, and make sure nothing comes near the Prime. I'll lead the way."

Orion could hear something now, fading in as if the world outside was coming into existence. It was strange, like a lucid dream.

He recognized the sounds of battle—blaster fire and explosions and shouting.

Ironhide led the way out of the building, and Orion took in a deep vent and followed. He wasn't sure how far they were from the base his friend had spoken of, but…

He froze, staring at the terrible scene of destruction around him.

A few broken buildings and hills of rubble remained of what must once have been a thriving sector. Heat rose in heavy waves from the desolate landscape, and the few structures remaining were interspersed by smoking orange pools of melted metal. A smelting field…?

And all around were groups of mecha fighting, dying, pushing each other into the molten pits, screaming as they were melted down to nothing. It was surreal—horrible.

"Optimus!" Ironhide shouted. "Transform! We're going!"

Right.

Orion transformed and took up a place in the center of the formation as they drove through the chaos.

Where were they? There were no active or even dormant smelting fields in populated areas. He checked his magnetic locator, almost afraid to find out what city-state had met this terrible fate.

His spark sank.

They were driving toward the location Red Alert had chosen for the new base he was building, which was only thirty klicks away.

This was Iacon.

Getting into the central sector of Iacon was a little harder than Mirage had anticipated. They had destroyed almost every street along the border, dropping the raised roads down into the chasms below. It was an effective way to prevent an army from attacking them on pede. No one could get past the border, except for seekers, who could fly over.

But they couldn't destroy everything, and eventually, Mirage found an intact road on one of the lower levels.

Then he made his way back up to the surface and drove toward the very center of the city-state. Rallying the mecha in the outer sectors was going well, so he heard. They weren't all Autobot supporters, but most of them didn't want Megatron ruling their city.

The warlord had been a bit foolish to take Iacon, actually. He'd surrounded himself with enemies, and the entirety of the city-state was far too large for his army to occupy. It had been easier for him in Tesarus and Tarn where significant portions of the population sympathized with the Decepticons.

Mirage had a lot to do. He had to find out where Megatron was keeping their soldiers, and sneak into enforcement headquarters, all without being discovered by Soundwave. And to do either of those things, he needed to get to the center of the sector.

He took what he thought was the fastest route, but pulled up short when he realized the familiar road he'd been driving down ended in a pile of rubble.

Well, that was inconvenient.

He turned around and went back, then tried a few streets to the north, but once again, his way was blocked by a wall of twisted, shattered metal. What the pit had they knocked over and how long did this stretch? Maybe climbing it would be faster than going around. He approached the curved wall a little reluctantly, looking fruitlessly for good handholds. It seemed like it had once been cylindrical, whatever it was.

Oh.

Spark pulsing hard, he backed away. Then, his mission temporarily forgotten, he entered the nearest tall building and made his way to the roof.

Once there, he looked out over the city to see, not wanting it to be true, but at least wanting to know.

The skyline was clear—clearer than it had been since the rise of the noble class. The towers were gone—all of them. He could see the wreckage of some nearby. They'd been pulled down and now they lay on their sides, spread out like the limbs of some fallen, many-legged creature, twisted and broken in death.

Gone.

It was gone. He'd lived his entire life in that sky, up there where you could see the sun eternally circling as the planet rotated.

He couldn't comprehend this. He could understand Megatron destroying his tower. He had been almost resigned to that when they'd evacuated.

But this… this…

He shouldn't have been surprised. This was Megatron. Megatron, who slaughtered every official from High Councils to public school administration boards. This was probably another way of signifying the overthrow of oppression.

They had been so beautiful, so elegant, so irreplaceable. Those towers weren't a symbol of oppression, they were a symbol of the city itself, a reminder of vorns and mecha long gone.

And there had been mecha in those towers—mecha who didn't pay attention to politics, mecha who wouldn't have had time to escape. When he'd started letting the Autobots stay at his home, he'd been ostracized by most of his peers, but he'd understood they were just conforming to the rules of the games. Some of them were corrupt, yes, and all of them spoiled and ignorant of the world's hardships, but they weren't all evil. There had been good towerlings too, good mecha who'd never had a chance to show it because of the way they'd been raised.

Anger welled up inside of him at the injustice of it all. The war had claimed so many things already. Vos, the towers, and thousands of sparks, all so Megatron could "liberate" the masses. And maybe, maybe if he was actually liberating anyone, Mirage wouldn't hate him so much, but he'd been to Kaon and Tarn and Tesarus and he knew things weren't better there than they were before the Decepticon take-over.

Megatron wasn't lifting anyone up, he was just pulling them down to his level, destroying ancient landmarks, bringing grief and loss to innocent mecha on both sides, filling the world with fear and hatred.

Mirage wanted to go find him, hunt him down, and murder him, but that would never work, not when he kept Soundwave so close. The best way to fight him would be to complete his tasks—to find the Autobot captives, and then bring down that groundbridge shield so they could attack.

It was hard—harder than he'd expected—to leave that rooftop and the emotions twisting his core. But he did it and he pushed the horror of seeing his home destroyed from his processor so he could focus on getting what was left of it back.

All around them, mecha fought and offlined. Orion saw soldiers wearing the red insignia of Autobots, and others bearing a different, purple symbol.

And he was driving past them, abandoning each one as he went.

He could barely stand it. Each group of soldiers was almost evenly matched against their adversaries. He knew if he called a halt, his contingent of twenty could save so many by joining forces with them.

But he couldn't stop.

This was like the fifth trial. He had to reach the beacon, except that this time it wasn't a beacon. It was some information about Megatron and a weapon or something like that.

A high-pitched scream drew his attention away from nearby fights to two small figures who were being chased by a mech wearing a purple insignia.

Younglings.

"Stop!" Orion said, and Ironhide and the others skidded to a stop around him as he braked hard.

"What?" Ironhide said. "Why?"

"Those younglings," Orion said. "See them?"

"We don't have time!" Ironhide said.

Orion transformed and broke formation, running to the side. It wouldn't take more than a breem to rescue them. What difference did a breem make?

Ironhide shouted at him, chasing after him, but he didn't care.

The younglings were about to reach the edge of one of the smelting pools.

The mech chasing them was going to catch them—Orion was too late.

All he could do was watch as the large mech closed the distance. Then, at the last moment, the younglings jumped out over the pool…

And landed on a plate of metal that had just broken free and was floating away from the edge.

The mech pursuing the younglings reached for them, but they were already too far away. He snarled and raised his gun. "You little scraplets!"

"Stop!" Orion shouted, and the mech turned. His optics widened when he saw Orion and he spun and fled. Orion let him go, shifting his attention to the younglings again. He was too close to the molten metal—his engine was overheating, and he could feel his paint blistering.

"Help!" the larger youngling called weakly. "Please!"

"Optimus!" Ironhide caught up to him. "We—"

"They're younglings!" Orion rounded on him.

Ironhide looked guilty.

"Help me get them off of there." He knelt by the edge of the smelting pit, wincing as the heat burned his legs, and held his hand out as far as he could. "Here! Can you reach?"

The larger youngling reached out, but they were much too far away, and the chunk of metal they were floating on was drifting even farther, melting as it went.

"Here," Ironhide pulled a rope out of subspace. "Catch this!"

The end of the rope hit the platform, and both mechlings grabbed onto it, but the middle sagged into the smelting pit, hissing as it melted.

Orion and Ironhide pulled hard on the rope, bringing the floating platform back toward the edge and almost dragging the younglings off of it. The rope broke, but momentum brought the younglings close enough to reach, and Orion pulled them both to safety, carrying them away from the pool and setting them down where the ground was cooler.

They were both Praxian, which seemed unusual to Orion, since he was certain this was Iacon. The larger one was teal and dark gray, and the smaller one was black and yellow with bright blue optics.

"Thank you," the teal and gray mechling whispered.

"Okay," Ironhide said. "Now, let's go."

"No," Orion replied. "We have to get them to safety. This place is crawling with soldiers and they won't survive in this heat."

Ironhide heaved a sigh. "We can take them with us," he said. "But it won't be that much safer for them, and there'll be no good place to drop them off along the way."

The yellow and black youngling clung to his larger friend's arm, trembling.

"It's okay," the older one said. "We'll be all right."

Orion shook his helm. "Where's the nearest safe place?"

"Out of our way," Ironhide said.

"Send me the coordinates."

Ironhide sighed.

"I'll catch up with you," Orion said. "I know where the base is and I'll meet you there."

"No. Let's just send someone else with them," Ironhide said, gesturing to where their soldiers were waiting for them, still in their alt modes.

Orion hesitated.

The sudden sound of seeker engines split the atmosphere

"Pit!" Ironhide shouted. "Get down!" He grabbed the two younglings and dropped to his knees, sheltering them with his frame. Orion dropped to the ground too, shuttering his optics as the seekers flew overhelm.

Missiles rained from the sky, crashing into the ground nearby, shaking the world.

Screaming, heat, shattering metal…

Then as suddenly as they had appeared, the seekers were gone, and everything was quiet.

Orion got to his pedes, surprised to find himself unhurt, and looked around.

He froze. The street where his soldiers had been was gone—replaced by a river of fiery orange and yellow. He watched as the last few hands and helms sank below the molten surface.

The ground beneath his pedes shook, and the river burst its banks and spread toward him as the ground sank.

This whole neighborhood was about to be absorbed by the smelting field.

"Ironhide, we should…" he trailed off as he turned to see his friend still crouched over the younglings. His back was a mess of metal shards and energon.

"Ironhide!" Orion rushed over and knelt by his friend, gently pulling him off of the younglings who he'd been sheltering.

Ironhide stared at him out of unfocused optics. "What…"

"Ironhide! We have to go, the ground's about to melt beneath us."

He could feel the temperature increasing.

Ironhide coughed, broken frame shaking.

"Ironhide!"

"Go," Ironhide gasped, making an obvious effort to control his coughing fit. "Take the… younglings west… there's a place… not destroyed… to the base… need you…."

"I'm not going to leave you here," Orion said.

Ironhide's optics shut and he mumbled something.

"What?"

"Tell… Chromia I'm sorry,"

"No!"

Ironhide's optics went dark, and in the sudden, oppressive silence, Orion heard his spark implode.

Then the ground shook again, and the sounds of tearing metal and bubbling magma returned.

The smaller, black and yellow youngling let out a spark-broken wail and Orion turned to see the larger one trying to comfort him.

Orion had to get them to safety before it was too late.

Primus, those soldiers... and Ironhide...

No, wait, this was a trial. None of this was real.

Ironhide was all right, and when Orion finished the trial he could go back and see him. Everything would be fine.

If this trial was anything like the fifth, though… was he supposed to leave these younglings behind and focus on stopping Megatron instead?

They weren't real, any more than Ironhide was really dead.

But he'd already missed his chance to take the fast route. He transformed.

"Get in," he opened one of his doors, and the larger youngling climbed in, dragging his still-weeping friend behind him.

Orion drove west—the wrong direction if he wanted to reach the base. But Ironhide had told him to go that way. Maybe he'd find somewhere safe to put the younglings.

He tried not to think about the fact that he was leaving his friend's broken frame behind. Even though he knew it was a trial, he couldn't help feeling sick and shaken.

Blaster had thought getting to Nova Cronum would be the hardest part. Rewind had warned him that it could take several orns to go by mass transit, so he'd needed to get a groundbridge.

Sneaking into the station wouldn't have been too hard, except that he had to bring his symbiots. Rewind and Steeljaw could both sneak pretty well, but the other two…

As it was, they'd barely made it in without being seen, and then someone had seen them going through the bridge, and they'd almost been caught on the Nova Cronum side.

They'd made though, and they were out into the city now.

But they couldn't find the Autobots.

Blaster stopped at the end of a street and looked behind. "Ramhorn, hurry up," he said.

Eject flopped dramatically onto the ground. "Can we stop here?" he said. I'm so tired…

"Not in the middle of the street," Steeljaw told him, sitting and delicately curling his tail around his paws. "We need to find the Autobots first anyway." At the very least, we need to find shelter before the off-cycle.

Blaster looked up at the pink and gray sky. "I think dusk is longer here than in Praxus," he said. "We still have time."

They knew the Autobots were camped near a groundbridge station, because they'd seen it on a holo-screen that was displaying the news. But they didn't know where the groundbridge station was. Blaster had expanded his range and pulled the locations of several groundbridge stations from mecha's processors, but the two they'd visited so far had turned out to be the wrong ones.

And if the next one was also the wrong place, they were going to have to stop somewhere for the off-cycle, and look more the next orn.

Ramhorn finally trudged up behind him and half-sparkedly nudged Blaster's heel with his horn.

He was really tired too. They all were.

Blaster sighed. "Let's keep going."

"Can I ride on your shoulder?" Eject asked. "My pedes hurt."

"Okay," Blaster said, and knelt so the little mech could climb up to his shoulder more easily. "Rewind, you want a ride too?"

"I'm all right," Rewind said. I don't want to make him carry me…

"I know you're tired," Blaster said. "Come on, you're not that heavy."

Rewind felt guilty, but let Blaster pick him up.

"What about me?" Ramhorn whined.

"Hold on," Blaster said. Once Rewind was situated on his other shoulder, he turned to pick Ramhorn up too. Ramhorn was significantly heavier than the mech-shaped symbiots, but carrying him would be faster than trying to force him to walk.

Steeljaw shot him a look of disapproval. You're going to wear yourself out in breems. You should make them walk, or at least take turns.

"I'll be fine," Blaster said as he walked. "We'll just go to the next groundbridge station and then if it's the wrong place, we'll find somewhere to stay for the off-cycle."

Steeljaw still didn't like it. "Well, I'm not letting you carry me," he said.

"That's good," Blaster replied. "I don't know if I could carry you."

Steeljaw padded along beside him. He was tired too, of course, and his pedes hurt at least as much as Eject's, but he was still as alert as ever.

Within a breem, Ramhorn was recharging in Blaster's arms, and Eject was nodding off as well, curled up on his shoulder, clinging to his plating.

Rewind was thinking, though. He was worried—almost as worried as Keepsake and Cam probably were. He didn't want to say anything, but he didn't think Blaster should join the Autobots. He'd never been in a war, but he knew mecha who had. His previous owner, the last telepath, had lost almost all of his friends in the Quintesson wars.

"This'll be different," Blaster tried to reassure him. "They probably won't have me fighting anyone. Since I can read minds, I'll probably just be a spy or something. I'll get to sneak around and listen to mecha's secrets and then tell the Autobots."

"You shouldn't say things like that when we're out in the middle of the road." Steeljaw glared suspiciously at a group of mecha across the street.

"They can't hear us," Blaster said, pushing his range out to check, just in case. "We're fine."

"Who can't hear us?" Eject mumbled.

"You're going to fall off my shoulder if you start recharging," Blaster said.

"Sorry," Eject sat up.

"It's not even the off-cycle."

"It's not even the off-cycle in Praxus," Rewind added. "Come on, Eject, just a little longer."

Eject yawned and then climbed up to kneel on top of Blaster's helm. He looked around with wide optics. "Where are we?"

"About two blocks from where we were when you got on Blaster's shoulder," Steeljaw said irritably.

"Uggghhh," Eject said. "How much longer?"

"I don't know," Blaster said. "Why don't we come up with something to talk about on the way? Maybe that'll speed things up. We're in Nova Cronum. Do they have a lobbing team?"

Primus, no, Rewind thought. Don't start him.

"Nova Cronum's lobbing team is scrap," Eject said. "They haven't won the world championship for more than three hundred vorns. They have a decent cube team, though…" Eject rambled on, much to the annoyance of Steeljaw and Rewind, who were both tired of his obsessions.

It distracted Rewind from his worries, though, and Steeljaw from his exhaustion.

Blaster trudged on, tuning out Eject and focusing on his goal. He had to get to the Autobots and offer to help them. He knew it might be dangerous, and he wasn't even sure what he could do at this point, but he had to try.

The heat slowly disappeared as Orion drove toward the buildings he could see in the distance, and the sounds of fighting faded to quiet. The burning red haze in the atmosphere made him think of the sky in Tagan Heights when he'd gone to visit after they'd defeated the Decepticons there.

Smoke, ashes, rust—illuminated from behind by the low-set Iacon sun.

The smaller youngling's weeping faded to the occasional, quiet sob. The larger one was quiet as they drove.

"Are you two all right?" Orion asked, realizing he should probably check. "Did either of you get hurt?"

"We're both okay, I think," the older mech replied. "Thank you for saving us. Who… who are you?"

Orion drove in silence for a few astroseconds before answering. "My designation is Orion," he said.

"Oh," the mech replied. "Orion Pax?"

"Yes," Orion said. "I don't know you, do I?"

"No," the youngling said. "But I was… I've heard of you."

"What are your designations?" Orion asked.

"I'm Lumos," the older one said.

"And your friend?"

"I don't know. He doesn't talk."

There was a soft humming noise, which Orion assumed was the smaller mechling.

Orion took in a deep vent and let it out. "You don't happen to know what I'm supposed to do in this trial, do you?" he said. It was worth a shot.

The youngling didn't seem confused by the question. "I'm not sure," he said. "But… I'm grateful that you helped us, even if it's not what you were supposed to do."

"You're very welcome," Orion said. "I couldn't leave you to be killed, even if you're just meant to distract me from my purpose here."

"If it helps…" the youngling said. "My mech creator… He's… always saying younglings are the future. That we'll be the ones to fix Cybertron. To heal it."

"He sounds wise." Orion said.

"He is," the youngling replied. "But… I don't think that my friend and I specifically could fix or heal anything right now, so maybe..."

"No, you're right," Orion said. "Once we get to those buildings, I'm going to drop you off. And then you should stay where it's safe. Keep each other alive. Some orn, once the war's over, you can start working on healing Cybertron. All right?"

The older mech was silent, but the little black and yellow one hummed determinedly.

Orion tried to drive faster, but it seemed to take forever to reach the distant buildings. Every breem that ticked by was a breem closer to failing this trial. And outside the trial, Megatron would kill one of his soldiers every ten breems. How many had died already?

He didn't want to know.

Eventually, they reached the safety of a neighborhood that hadn't been destroyed yet. It was eerily quiet, but Orion was glad about that because it meant—hopefully—that the younglings wouldn't run into any trouble. He stopped and opened his door to let them out. They climbed out onto the street and he stayed in his alt mode.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

Lumos took his small friend's hand. "Yes," he said. "We'll be safe now. Thank you again."

"You're very welcome, both of you," Orion said. "I have to go, but if you ever need help in the future, come find me."

"We will," Lumos said. "Good luck on the trial."

Orion couldn't waste any more time. He drove away, heading toward the place the Autobot base must be, hoping that meeting with Prowl wasn't that urgent.

Megatron paced restlessly across the crystal tiles in the classroom auditorium he'd decided to use for a temporary throne room. I sat to the side, waiting for him to speak—already knowing what he wanted to talk about.

I thought I'd have Orion beaten already, but he's disappeared and I have to deal with that femme instead… Not to mention Prowl… We have this one last chance to pull a decisive win out of this otherwise the whole Iacon campaign will be nothing more than an embarrassment.

He stopped, and turned to look at me. "They're going to attack us, aren't they?"

I shrugged.

"I can feel it," he said. "Elita's not like Orion. She's bold enough to go on the offensive. Our prisoners are getting restless too—they've already almost broken out twice, and if I start slaughtering them, I'll have to employ all of our forces here to do so, or pull in more troops from Tarn or Tesarus, which will be difficult since we took out all the roads to the central sector and we can't lower the groundbridge shield… And I want to be back in Kaon as soon as possible, to sort out what I'm going to do with Blackangle… I don't have time for a prolonged fight."

I nodded.

"I have to kill them—not the soldiers, the commanders. They can replace their infantry with new idiots from all over, but they can't replace Prowl. We have to kill him during this battle."

I looked away.

"You know what I need you to do."

"I know," I said.

"You have their location?"

I nodded, nervous.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you. I know it bothers you."

He was right about that. And even if I was all right with the mission, it was dangerous. "It may not work," I said. "Their army is camped by-y their base." I could get past the army without trouble, but it would be harder to get past Red Alert without letting him sound some sort of alarm.

Megatron frowned. He's right, it's a risk… On the other hand… He smirked. "So we'll let them attack," he said. "We'll wait for them. Their soldiers will come here, and when they do, they'll leave their temporary headquarters unprotected. Some of the more dangerous commanders like Ironhide will probably be here too."

"Then I won't be he-ere to help with the battle."

"We won't need you here," Megatron said. "Not once your task is complete." With Prowl dead, they can't win. Not even if they drive me out this orn. I will keep the upper hand for the rest of the war. And surely, surely Soundwave won't fail me.

One murder. I could do that. I could pull my range in at the last moment, then check afterward to make sure he was really dead.

"Go," Megatron said. "I want you in place by the time they attack.

I walked off the stage and out of the auditorium. I could fly to Nova Cronum—it wouldn't take long, and I needed time to plan. Prowl was smart—he wouldn't be easy to kill.

I transformed and rose above Iacon, trying to come up with a strategy without thinking too hard about what I'd been asked to do. Even after all the death I'd seen and felt now, inflicting it myself was the opposite of appealing—especially inflicting it on someone I knew.

But maybe I could think of it as a mercy. The sides were too evenly matched now. The faster the Autobots lost, the fewer would die in the long run. By taking one life, I could save millions. Once the Autobots were defeated and the Councils were destroyed, we would build up a new government—a better one.

Saving the world was worth one murder.

Orion drove through the silent city toward the base.

Or, at least toward the coordinates he thought the base was at. He wasn't sure, after all. Maybe he should ask someone.

He considered for half a breem and then commed Prowl.

The Praxian answered quickly. "Optimus," he said. "What's going on? Where… Primus, how did you get so far off course?"

"There were some younglings," Orion said. "I'm sorry, I couldn't just leave them."

"Is Ironhide with you? We've lost his tracker, and he's not answering his comm."

"He's… offline," Orion said.

It hurt to say it, even though Orion knew it wasn't true.

The very first thing he'd do when he finished this trial was find Ironhide, just to make sure. It had been so real…

Prowl was silent.

"Prowl?"

"Sorry…" Prowl said. "Optimus, we need you here ten breems ago. The Decepticons are attacking our base now. We can hold out as long as we need to, but the sooner you get here, the better. There's something we have to talk about."

"All right," Orion said.

"Did you lose the soldiers that were with you and Ironhide?"

"Yes," Orion said. "They're gone, all of them."

"Pit," Prowl said. "Then getting you to base is going to be tricky. I'll try to get some mecha through the lines to meet you and escort you here. Keep driving toward the base, and I'll let you know when I've got a plan."

"I will," Orion said. "Oh, and I commed you to confirm the coordinates for the base. I want to make sure I'm going in the right direction."

Prowl sent him the coordinates for the exact location he'd expected the base to be.

"Thank you."

"Keeping a clear path open for you will cost lives, so come as quickly as possible."

"Understood," Orion said, and Prowl cut the comm.

He couldn't afford to get distracted again. He had to save his friends. He could feel Elita over the bond, he realized. He wasn't sure if it was the real Elita, or the one in the trial, but she was afraid, and angry. He could tell, somehow, that she was fighting, so he didn't try to comm. her for fear of distracting her.

The sector full of undamaged buildings ended, replaced by a scarred, broken neighborhood where most of the buildings had been reduced to rubble.

Orion had to swerve around chunks of buildings and pick his way carefully down the road. Eventually, it got to the point where running was faster than driving, so he transformed and pounded down the empty street.

"Who's there?" a deep voice called from somewhere to his left.

Orion didn't stop. He couldn't waste time.

"Help, please!" the voice said.

Orion slowed.

He knew any delay would cost Autobot sparks. But did that really mean he should abandon this unknown mech to his fate?

He could spare half a breem to help someone, couldn't he?

"Hello?" he said, and walked cautiously toward the voice. "Where are you?"

"Here," the mech said. "Over here..."

Orion jogged around a pile of rubble, and froze.

A bulky green seeker lay trapped beneath a collapsed wall, pinned on his back.

He looked up at Orion and the hope in his optics faded to a bitter resignation.

"Prime," he said.

Orion approached, ignoring the mech's glare. "I might be able to lift this. Are you hurt or just trapped?"

"Don't," the seeker growled. "I'd rather starve here than accept help from an Autobot."

Orion hesitated.

"I only ask that you do me the courtesy of an enemy and end my suffering."

"No," Orion grabbed the wall and heaved upward. "I don't have time to argue, and I'm not going to kill you or leave you here to starve."

He felt the wall shift and pulled harder.

The seeker lay, glaring at him for another astrosecond before deciding to help. Together, they were able to lift the wall enough for the seeker to crawl out from under it.

"There," Orion let the wall crash back down. "I'm afraid I can't help you get back to—ahhh!"

He cried out as the seeker jumped him from behind, and pain exploded across his back. Orion shook his attacker off and reached behind himself to find a knife buried to the hilt in his shoulder.

The seeker got back to his pedes, and pulled another knife from subspace. One of his wings was crumpled, and one of his legs looked like it had been badly crushed as well, but there was a grim determination in his optics.

"Stop," Orion said, letting go of the knife hilt and holding his hands in front of him. "I don't want to fight you. I just saved your life, don't—"

"I didn't ask you to save me, Prime," the seeker said. "I owe you no debt."

Orion didn't have time to fight, but the mech jumped at him again, and he couldn't get out of the way fast enough.

He deflected the seeker's knife thrust but was shoved back into the part of the wall that was still standing. The jarring pain of the knife in his shoulder and the frustration of this new delay sparked anger in his core.

He pushed back, throwing the seeker off again, but the mech stumbled back to his pedes and attacked a third time.

This time, Orion caught the knife, and they struggled over it briefly before Orion wrested it from his opponent's hands and sent the seeker to the ground yet again.

"Stop fighting," he said. "We don't have to be enemies. We never had to be enemies."

The seeker got to his hands and knees, venting hard.

Orion turned and walked away, reaching again for the knife in his shoulder. The hilt was slick with energon now.

"Don't walk away from me, Prime!" The seeker roared behind him, and he spun, holding up the second knife he'd taken from the mech to warn him off.

The mech either didn't see it or didn't care. He tackled Orion, knocking him over. The knife in Orion's shoulder hit the ground and the combined weight of two mechs was enough to push it even deeper. Orion screamed and the pain overwhelmed him for a moment.

Then he felt energon running down his hand and looked to see that the blade he'd been holding had buried itself deep into the seeker's chassis.

The mech's optics were dark, and his faceplate was slack.

Orion had killed him.

He scrambled out from beneath the mech and got to his pedes, venting hard. His hands and front were covered in the seeker's energon.

He was shaking.

Primus… he'd killed someone…

Elita commed him over an external frequency. "What's wrong?" she demanded. "You're hurt! What happened?"

"I… ran into a seeker," Orion said. "I'm all right, though."

A warning popped up in his processor. The obstruction in his shoulder would make it impossible to transform.

He would have to run, even if the roads got better.

He'd more than tripled the time it would take to get to the base.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Orion said, trying to send comfort over the bond, knowing she'd still be able to feel his injury.

He ran, gritting his denta against the pain.

Every time one of his pedes hit the road, it felt like he was being stabbed all over again.

"Orion?" she said, with a sob in her voice.

"Yes?"

"Chromia… she's gone. She just… stopped fighting."

Orion let his own sorrow mingle with hers. "Ironhide's offline too,"he said.

"I… I figured…"

"It's all right," he said, trying to comfort her. "It's just a trial. It's going to be all right."

"Is it, though?" she replied.

A deep uneasiness settled in his spark. "Stay safe," he said. "I'm coming as quickly as I can."

"Okay," she said. "I'll see you soon, then. I… have to focus on the battle. Good luck."

She cut the comm.

Almost immediately after that, Prowl commed him again.

"Prowl," Orion said. "I'm injured and I can't transform. It might take me joors to get there at this rate."

"Don't worry," Prowl said. "Our fastest transport is on his way. He'll meet up with you in five breems or less, and have you back here in just over half a joor."

Orion pushed himself up a sloping street to the top of a hill, and stopped for a moment.

He could see the fighting now, in the distance. Flashes of light, smoke, and the far-off thunder of explosions.

The road smoothed out in front of him, but he still couldn't drive, so he ran—faster on the downhill side, but still not nearly fast enough.

He couldn't shake the awful feeling that no matter what he did, he was going to be too late.

Everything was ready. They'd made contact with mecha in all sectors of the city. With the owner's permission, they'd moved temporarily to the groundbridge station which had better security and was easier to defend. Mirage had reached enforcement headquarters and was prepared to shut down the groundbridge shield on her signal. They'd figured out a way around the comm. block the Decepticons had put over Iacon Central. They had mecha in place to rescue the Autobot soldiers.

They had a plan.

They were just waiting for her to give the order.

She had wanted to wait until they could talk to Orion again, but he was still out of touch. She still couldn't even feel him over the bond. She knew he wasn't dead, but she was worried. It had been more than two joors since he'd gone to talk to Primus. Why would Primus need to talk to him for two joors?

Someone put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Chromia standing over her.

She took in a deep vent and let it out.

"Hey," Chromia said. "Can you do something for me?"

"What?" Elita said.

"Order Ironhide to bring me with him."

Elita frowned.

"He says he outranks me so he can force me to stay behind, but he doesn't outrank you, since Orion left you in charge when he abandoned us. Tell him I'm allowed to go with him. I'm not letting him put his life on the line again without me, especially when it's my own home we'll be fighting for."

Elita sighed. She didn't want to get mixed up in Chromia's relationship problems, and she didn't want her sister in danger either.

On the other hand…

Prowl came in through the door. "Commander Elita," he said. "We just received word that Megatron has called in some soldiers from Tarn. They've bridged just outside Iacon and are making their way toward the center of the city-state. We can't wait much longer. If they make it to the central sector, before we attack, our chance of success falls below fifty percent."

"What's our chance now?" Chromia asked.

"Somewhere around sixty-five or seventy percent," Prowl said. "Still not ideal. It depends on whether and how Megatron's prepared for us. Even if we win, it'll be at a heavy cost."

Elita looked down.

The other option was to surrender. And the cost of that might be even heavier in the long run.

"Elita?" Prowl said. "We can't wait any longer. Orion's not going to be back in time."

"I know," she said.

Despite telling herself he must know what he was doing, it did feel like Orion had abandoned them. She tried comming him one more time, and reaching as hard as she could over the bond, but his comm. was still off, and the bond was still so distant. There was something, though, coming through. Not Orion—a different sort of feeling.

She realized it might be Primus, and drew away from it, uncertain.

The feeling faded, leaving her with an inexplicable and acute longing for home.

"What?" Chromia asked.

"Prowl's right," Elita said. "We have to do this, and we have to do it now. You're right too… we need everyone who's willing to fight." She stood up from the chair she was sitting in. "I'm going too."

"But…" Prowl said.

"No," Elita told him. "I'm in charge, and I'm going to go fight for my home. You don't need me here to direct things."

"If you die…" Prowl said. "You know we'll be in a lot of trouble."

"Then you'd better make sure we win this fight, so I survive," she told him. "Spread the word. Anyone who wants to join the battle may do so—non-combatants included. We're taking Iacon back, at whatever cost."

Prowl, thankfully, didn't argue further. Ironhide might be another matter, but Elita wouldn't let him talk her out of it. She'd fought in a battle before, and she'd hated it, but it was better than staying behind and letting other mecha offline for her.

She opened a group comm. with all of the commanders. "Are our soldiers ready to bridge to Iacon?" she asked.

"Everyone's ready," Chromia replied.

"Mainspring, tell Mirage to take down the groundbridge shield now." Elita said, then followed her sister into another room where a group of soldiers were waiting by an inactive groundbridge.

They would use every single bridge in the station. They needed to get their soldiers in as fast as possible so they could put the shield up again and prevent Megatron from bringing in reinforcements. Once they were in Iacon, they would trap themselves in Iacon.

There would be no retreat this time.

Win or lose, this would be the end.

Notes:

1. Hey, I'm back. Told you it would only be a week or two. :)

2. Thanks for reading and reviewing!