Early the next orn, Prowl almost dreaded the necessary trip to the rec room to obtain his and Bluestreak's morning energon. He was due to report to Smokescreen about the progress he had made regarding Megatron's impending attack to capture him. The fact that, even after a decavorn of planning and several additional orns of intelligence gathering, he still had nothing conclusive did not sit well in his tanks. That unease was only compounded by a growing anxiety about facing the rumors he was sure had been spread concerning his scan of Bluestreak's processor the previous night.

Bluestreak, thankfully, seemed rather oblivious to the possible complications. At least the Twins were still in the brig, though he had a feeling he would be facing the golden warrior again soon enough because Springer had been right; Sunstreaker was definitely one to hold a grudge.

As usual, there were few mechs active at the early joor, for which Prowl was even more thankful for than normal.

He waited while Bluestreak retrieved his cube and scampered for their usual table in the corner. The youngling had been even happier than was his normal – a state easily attributable to his impending upgrade – but he had also lost the almost hyperactive edge to his demeanor as well. It was as if he had finally found a measure of peace that he had tried to cover with enthusiasm before. Oh, he still spoke almost incessantly, but it was not with the same breathless ramble that it had been till that point.

When Prowl had asked what had changed, Bluestreak had been unable to really explain, only mumbling something about knowing. Prowl assumed, based on what the little one had said during and immediately following his scan, that it had something to do about that. If so, he resolved that, as potentially dangerous as it had been, he would not regret having done it. That did not change the fact that he would not do it again.

Another mech walked into the rec room and Prowl paused, recognizing the spark signature. It was Hound.

As if Hound had been looking for him, the olive green scout walked directly toward him. Prowl was aware that Bluestreak was instantly alert, watching warily, but Prowl shifted his doorwings in a way that told the youngling to remain calm and stay where he was.

Bluestreak settled back into his chair as Prowl turned to face Hound.

Hound hesitated, just outside what would normally be considered polite 'personal space' and though his vents flared gently, his armor stayed tight to his frame. "Prowl…"

When the scout failed to continue, looking decidedly unsure and yet determined, Prowl allowed his doorwings to dip slightly. "Yes, Hound?" He asked softly.

"I… I realized that I had misjudged you once before." Hound spoke quickly, not meeting Prowl's gaze. "It dawned on me that… that I might have done so again. I know more happened last night than met the optic, Ratchet told us that much after you left. I… I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

Prowl released a long draft of air. "I understand why it would have been easy to reach such conclusions."

"Still… If there was a valid reason…" Hound glanced up at his face then he looked irritated. "If there was a valid reason you didn't have to let us go on haranguing you like that."

Prowl blinked. "What other option did I have?"

It was Hound's turn to blink then his engine revved unhappily. "You aren't a prisoner any more. You don't have to act like one just because you're accused of something."

"I am still unranked and that means I am in no position to object when those above me…"

An irritated cough of Hound's vents cut Prowl off, as did the flicker of emotion in his optics. "We are not like the Decepticons, Prowl. Just because you have no rank among us does not mean you have no rights."

Prowl cocked an optic ridge and gently shook his helm. "Perhaps, if I were any other mech. But what do you think would happen if I really did make a stand, especially if every one else were convinced I had done something morally unconscionable?"

Hound opened his mouth to reply then stopped himself. He released a gust of air and nodded slowly, miserably. "I guess you are right. It shouldn't be like that forever though, right? I mean given enough time, once you have proven yourself sufficiently, you can be… well… normal about stuff like that."

"And how much will be sufficient?" Prowl asked though there was no hint of emotion one way or another in his voice.

"I…" Hound looked away.

"Exactly." Prowl offered him a tiny shake of his helm and a barely-there, self-depreciating smile. "I may be an Autobot now, Hound, but I am very much aware I am still on probation. Yesterday proved as much."

Hound thought about that for a moment and then shook his own helm. "Not really. I mean I think I would have been just as upset if it had been anyone else. Same thing with Springer and… honestly I don't think First Aid would have been nearly as bold if it had been anyone else because he would have been too frightened of them to let his true feelings show. Doesn't mean he wouldn't have felt the same way, he just would have internalized it more. Ironhide… well, that's just Ironhide. And Ratchet… I actually think he was more angry at himself than he was at you, you just happened to be an available target. Chances are, if the Twins hadn't already slagged him off, he wouldn't have gotten as riled up at you. Ratchet's like that sometimes, as many of us can testify to personally."

Prowl just stared at Hound, not sure how to take or process what he had said. His immediate reaction was to dismiss the scout's claims as a misguided attempt to make him feel more at ease. However, in seeing the serious, almost pleading look in the scout's optics, he obligingly re-evaluated the previous evening through that lens.

It was possible, he decided, but he was not convinced it was safe to assume it was so. Not at this juncture.

At length he released a long sigh of air and averted his gaze. "While I do not doubt your assertions Hound, you understand that I am reluctant to believe it is that simple."

"Why?" Hound demanded, sounding increasingly upset and exasperated. "Why do you have to believe you have a big red target on your back when it comes to us? You are one of us now."

Prowl only just managed to keep his doorwings from flinching at the olive-green mech's tone, especially as the outburst drew the attention of the handful of mechs in the rec room.

"Hound…" Prowl spoke quietly, but knew his words were being heard by everyone in the suddenly quiet lounge. "You have worked with me on multiple missions, but most mechs on this base have not. Your perspective is different than the majority's. Sunstreaker proved that my inclusion in Autobot ranks is not unanimously accepted. You cannot deny that there are still more optics looking for a reason to denounce me as the monster I once was than there are those willing to accept my change of spark as genuine. For the time being, it is simply safer to assume the worst and behave accordingly."

Hound just stared at him. "That is… depressing."

Prowl shrugged minutely with one doorwing. "It is reality. Allowing myself to become emotional over it will not change it. As you said; perhaps, given enough time, it will improve. I have that hope at least."

Something changed in Hound's optics then, a subtle shift that Prowl was not sure how to interpret, and the scout nodded slow, reluctant acceptance of Prowl's quiet declaration.

When that was all, and Hound said nothing else, Prowl indicated Bluestreak with the hand that held the energon cube. "If you will excuse me?"

Hound looked that direction and then nodded, stepping aside, out of the way. "Of course."

Once Prowl stepped past him, however, Hound spoke again. "You are wrong about something."

Prowl cocked an optic ridge, turning back.

Hound nodded again, firmly. "I don't think that 'most' mechs are looking for a reason to condemn you now. I think most are hoping your conversion is true but are hesitant to fully trust that it is just yet. That's a big difference."

"It is." Prowl agreed softly, considering Hound carefully.

Hound smiled ruefully, clearly sensing Prowl's skepticism. "You'll see. Have a good orn, Prowl."

"Likewise, Hound." Prowl murmured and then watched as the other former Enforcer turned and left the rec room with the same amount of determination he had entered it with.

Prowl watched him go, almost bemused, before joining Bluestreak at their table. The blue and gray youngling peered up at him as he slid into the chair next to him, knowing that was where Bluestreak preferred he sit, even if sitting across was more favorable for easy conversation.

"What was that about? You aren't in trouble are you?" Bluestreak asked quietly, doubtless not wanting to attract attention. Not that it mattered; the handful of mechs who were in the rec room clearly wanted the same information.

Prowl allowed a tiny shake of his helm and answered in a similarly hushed voice. "I am not. We were just settling a… misunderstanding."

"Then why did he look so upset when he first came in… I thought he was going to be like Sunstreaker yesterday and get mad at you and that would have made me sad because he's been kinda nice lately."

Prowl cocked an optic ridge. "He was upset initially." Prowl allowed. "But I think it was at himself rather than at me."

"Oh…" Bluestreak considered that and nodded. Then he brightened. "Will you be able to take me to the firing range again today?"

Prowl could not stop the tiny smile that touched his lip plates. "I believe so, though it might have to be a short session, depending on how this orn goes."

Bluestreak smiled widely and then he launched into a happy recital about all he was learning about firing the weapon and how he was looking forward to learning how to do it with his eventual adult frame and his hopes that once he got his processor expansion he would be able to focus more easily. Prowl let him talk, listening to his one-sided dialogue as he finished his morning energon. As annoying as the constant chatter could be, the older Praxian found it was actually pleasant.

… … …

Less than half a joor later, Prowl was once more standing outside of the tactical command center. He knew he could not linger, Smokescreen would easily be able to detect his spark signature and he did not want to give his department leader any cause to doubt him. His report would do that well enough on its own.

Deciding further delay would be a waste of time, he opened the door and strode through. Smokescreen glanced up from where he was standing over Tailgate's screen and looked him up and down. The serious inspection caused Prowl to pause his movements until it was over.

"You are only five breems early instead of your usual ten. Is everything alright?" Smokescreen asked taking a step toward him.

Prowl nodded, the gesture showing his unease more than he wanted it to. "Hound had a few questions we needed to address."

Smokescreen nodded, considering him carefully, then motioned toward his office. Obediently, Prowl followed him. This time he was grateful for the offer of privacy in which to give his embarrassingly vague report. At least when the rebuke came it would not be in public.

Once the door slid shut, he sat in the chair he was gestured to and smokescreen slid behind his desk. "It's been a decaorn. What does it look like?"

Prowl released a vent of air. "The situation is still unclear, Smokescreen. At first it seemed as if a specific attack had been in the works, but then that disappeared several orns ago and it is as if Megatron has changed his mind entirely."

"Unlikely." Smokescreen snorted air through his olfactory vents. "He doesn't let go of a grudge like that."

Prowl nodded. "I must concur. But there has been nothing specific enough to build a defensive strategy against. If he has a plan, it must be something he is already prepared to execute or the maneuvering for it is being done in such a skillfully deceptive manner that we are not picking up any patterns in the data."

"That makes sense." Smokescreen nodded, not seeming at all upset about the lack of definitive progress. "You said earlier that Trailbreaker would make a good candidate for detecting things like that. I'll put him on secondary review."

Prowl nodded silently approving of the assignment.

Then Smokescreen frowned. "That doesn't mean something isn't coming. And the longer it goes before it happens, the worse it will probably be."

"Indeed, that is my thought as well."

"So, what are your recommendations?" Smokescreen pressed.

Prowl gave him a brief look and then cleared his vents. "All we can do now is prepare Iacon for possible assault, which we have already been doing."

"But anything specific?"

"Defense is your area of expertise." Prowl said softly, not wanting Smokescreen to think he was overstepping his assignment.

"And your area is discovering the weaknesses in a defense and overcoming them." Smokescreen shook his helm. "What do you see?"

Hesitating a moment longer, Prowl dipped his helm, lowering his gaze as he carefully framed his reply. "As I am sure you are aware from the data gathered my initial interrogation, one of the things Megatron had me working on near the end was to stage an assault on Iacon. I was able to calculate several possible ways of overcoming Iacon's current defenses."

"But that means you know how to improve those weaknesses. We already made some adjustments based on your… um… suggestions." Smokescreen seemed a little uneasy talking about that time period of Prowl's experience in Iacon.

Prowl nodded easily, not truly as uncomfortable discussing that rather humiliating experience as he would have expected he would be.

"Perhaps. But I do have a few specific recommendations that I have only developed recently. But they are no guarantee." Prowl warned, becoming truly disconcerted by how well Smokescreen was taking his admittance of failure. It had been a long time since he had worked under any commanding officer that would accept such a thing without violent retribution, even if he himself had never been such an unreasonable commander.

Then he rebuked himself. This was Smokescreen, not a Decepticon.

"Of course not." Smokescreen waved aside Prowl's concern. "But something is better than nothing. So, let's hear it."

Prowl hesitated exactly 3.26 astroseconds before he allowed himself to relax. Then, looking back up at his former apprentice, Prowl told him.

Smokescreen listened carefully, nodding occasionally then, when Prowl was finished he stood. Prowl quickly did likewise only to blink in surprise when Smokescreen's hand landed on his shoulder.

"The Prime has requested a briefing of all the department commanders on this matter, so your analysis is just in time." Prowl nodded and almost apologized for not being able to provide anything more specific, but Smokescreen continued before he could. "You will come with me to that meeting."

Prowl stared. A department command briefing was one attended by department leaders and their second in commands. He was far from being either. "I am not sure that is…"

The fierce glint in Smokescreen's optics cut him off before the younger mech's clipped words could. "That's an order."

Prowl's lip plates snapped shut. He nodded very stiffly, expertly hiding his reluctance, reminding himself Smokescreen had the right to speak to him like that if he wanted to… and he had questioned an order. Sometimes it was hard to remember.

"Understood, sir." He said softly.

Smokescreen looked at him for a moment and then huffed a gust of air and some of his irritation bled out. "You are too good at avoiding contact with others. They can't get used to the idea of you being one of us if they don't see you."

Prowl's optics narrowed with sudden suspicion. "And they will not consent to the idea of me being even a senior tactician if they do not get used to me."

Smokescreen grinned. "Exactly!"

Prowl released a tired vent of air and conceded the argument in the face of the other tactician's evident enthusiasm. He would learn the hard way that the other Autobots would not be so easily convinced to place their lives in his hands… hands that had been indirectly stained with the energon of many of their comrades and friends. "As you wish."

Smokescreen only gave him an odd look, then shook his helm. "Any other mech and I'd think you were enjoying this." Prowl just cocked an optic ridge and Smokescreen hurried on. "But I know you aren't. Let's go."

… … …

Ultra Magnus sat stiffly in the chair that was two to the left of where Optimus would be sitting once he arrived. He nodded jerkily to Blaster and then, a quarter of a breem later, Red Alert and Inferno as they also entered. Normally he would not have felt pressured to be the one to informally greet each arriving mech. Normally Optimus would have taken that unofficial duty.

But Optimus was not present yet. And his unusual absence was enough to draw even more attention to the fact that he, Ultra Magnus, was currently the highest ranking mech in the briefing room.

It would not last long, however, for which Ultra Magnus was very glad.

He may have also been a candidate to replace Sentinal Prime, but he was not arrogant enough to think he had what it took to be a Prime. He had been secretly relieved that the matrix had chosen Orion Pax and had felt his respect for the slightly younger mech only deepen with time. No, Ultra Magnus new his strengths and while he could be a solid and dependable leader, he knew he functioned best supporting someone more naturally inclined to that role than he.

Nor was Ultra Magnus ignorant enough to be blind to the fact that while he might be considered the Prime's second in command, because of rank and status, he was not necessarily the best to actually advise on matters beyond the administrative jungle that was his preferred field of service. Thus he was well aware that, as the war had grown to encompass the whole of Cybertron, mechs such as Jazz and Ironhide had unofficially supplanted him as the Prime's primary advisor.

Even so, he was not really upset; he knew Jazz and Ironhide were the best in their field and that their counsel was more important at this time. Unfortunately, that did not mean that Ultra Magnus got out of the ceremonial aspects of his official rank and status. Like now… filling in socially while the Prime was delayed.

Delayed. The thought almost made him smirk.

Elita One's shuttle had just landed, having arrived several orns earlier than expected, and considering the nature of this up-coming briefing, the Prime had wanted his Femme Commander to be present as well. He had wanted to inform her that her presence was required personally… and as soon as possible. Right.

Not that any mech would begrudge him wanting to see his sparkmate at the earliest possible moment, not after nearly ten quartex separation. He almost snickered at the thought, but rigid decorum prevented it.

Instead he nodded to Air Raid and Silverbolt as the two arialbots entered. Ratchet was already there, as were Ironhide and Jazz. That left their Prime and their head tactician. Ultra Magnas managed not to vent with relief that this moment in the spotlight would be over soon.

No sooner had the two flyers taken their positions – with Air Raid standing behind Silverbolt's seat – than the door slid open again.

Smokescreen walked in and… Ultra Magnus stiffened, feeling the tension level in the room suddenly shoot upward, as Prowl followed close on his heels. His were not the only set of optics that followed the black and white Praxian as he silently took a position behind Smokescreen's seat – a position that mirrored Air Raid's and Inferno's as they likewise stood behind their department commanders.

Briefly, if belatedly, Ultra Magnus glanced around the table, wary as to whether any of the mechs there would react poorly to the former Decepticon's presence; if there would be any problems he would need to deal with before they got out of hand. Some of the mechs seemed irritated that he was there, a few seemed disgusted, while most appeared passively curious if not a touch reserved. Neither Jazz nor Ironhide seemed surprised and Ultra Magnus figured he should take some measure of comfort from that. Ratchet was almost smug, which was disturbing in its own way.

Seeing there were no obvious issues, Ultra Magnus returned his attention to the Praxian himself. Even as quiet conversations resumed around the table, even as Smokescreen leaned forward to speak with Blaster, Prowl remained almost motionless. Even his doorwings would not move more than a fraction of a centimeter and if one were not watching him carefully, it would seem as if they did not move at all. It was unnatural, especially compared to the almost fluid way Smokescreen's flicked and shifted. But that was nothing that he had not noticed the first time Prowl had been in one of these briefings.

In fact, he stood almost as rigidly now as he had sat more than once while still a paroled POW.

That realization made Ultra Magnus blink, carefully reconsidering the mech now standing almost directly in front of him. He had known that he had become an Autobot, but this was the first time he had seen proof of that himself. The former Decepticon seemed to make an effort to avoid any type of casual social contact, so this was the first time he had seen the Autobot insignia on his chassis. It was the first time he had actually perceived the Autobot IFF signature his faction ID now transmitted and it was the first time he had seen the mech's now brilliant cerulean optics.

As Prowl blinked, likely sensing his intense perusal, and lifted his gaze to meet his, Ultra Magnus felt his vent's hitch as he realized he was staring into optics that almost perfectly mirrored – not just in color, but in the steadiness, wisdom and depth – Optimus Prime's.

Ultra Magnus felt as if he were suddenly standing on a precipice, where his understanding of the natural order of reality was about to be thrown on its helm. He could not put a finger on exactly why.

So ensnared by the tactician's now slightly expectant and yet somehow hesitant and wary gaze, Ultra Magnus just caught himself from jumping when the door opened again.

Conversations fell silent and mechs straightened as Optimus, Elita One beside him again for the first time in too long, entered. The Prime called the meeting to order just by walking in the door.

As always, Ultra Magnus was struck by the elegant beauty Elita One radiated, the undeniable deadliness of her frame matched perfectly by the light of warm compassion in her optics. She was unquestionably the perfect compliment to Optimus Prime and he could not have been prouder of the femme his caretakers had adopted and then raised along side him as a sister. He dipped his head fractionally in greeting when her optics met his as her gently eager gaze took in the sight of those she had left behind so many decaorns ago. The tiny, relieved smile that graced her lip plates as she visually confirmed that so many of her companions were still living, lifted his spark.

Then her look faltered as her optics finally settled onto Prowl. Her spinal struts stiffened and – only because she was now seated next to him – Ultra Magnus heard her engine give a low, unhappy rev. Optimus glanced at her questioningly and then followed her gaze. Ultra Magnus did likewise and shifted his optics back to Prowl.

The Praxian, still as emotionless as ever, lifted his own gaze to meet the Prime's. Ultra Magnus' denta ground together at the impertinence of an unranked, former Decepticon, acting so boldly with the Prime. Only the knowledge that Optimus tended to encourage a lack of strict formality kept him from speaking on the matter. Even so, his irritation was assuaged as Prowl quickly lowered his gaze respectfully.

"As some of you are aware, there has been a slight change in the tactical situation." Optimus began, looking at the gray and white Praxian now instead. "Smokescreen, what do you have for us?"

Smokescreen grimaced. "Not as much as I would like. That said, there are things all of you need to be made aware of in relation to some changes… a new twist you might say… to Megatron's continuing aggression..."

Air Raid's engine revved irritably as he pointed at Prowl. "Perhaps you can start by explaining why he is here again."

There were a few quiet rumbles of engines in unspoken agreement with the sentiment underlying that question, including from Elita One next to Ultra Magnus. Prowl did not seem to notice the question or their reactions to it, except that one doorwing twitched ever so faintly.

Smokescreen's engine revved as well; however his gaze sharpened on Air Raid. "Prowl is here to deliver the briefing."

The calm, cool and almost defiant words took an astrosecond to register in Ultra Magnus' CPU. When they did he could not stop the incredulous "what?" That escaped his vocalizer.

He was not alone; there was generalized discontent from everyone at the table. All except Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchet and Optimus. That alone brought Ultra Magnus up, making him hesitate before speaking, making sure of his words, modulating his tone.

"Why him?" He asked carefully, looking at Smokescreen. "Granted he did well preparing the last offensive, but that does not explain why he is here now. This is a task for senior command staff."

Unsaid was the glaring evidence that Prowl was completely unranked. He had no business being in a senior level briefing at all. And yet Optimus had not objected to his presence. Nor had Ironhide or Jazz for that matter.

That feeling of utter surrealism threatened to overtake him again, and it was made worse as Smokescreen only quirked an optic ridge, disgustingly smug. "The answer to that will be clear once he gives the briefing, sir. Needless to say, however, Prowl supervised the analysis on this problem and is thus…"

"But he doesn't even have a rank yet!" Red Alert burst out, fingers clinching around the edge of the table. "Protocol says…"

"Protocol says he must have a monitor to lead an analysis, and he did: Trailbreaker as well as three other members of my staff, at various times during the process." Smokescreen glared hard at the security director and then looked up and back at the other tactician. "Prowl?"

Not having once given evidence to any personal reaction to being discussed like an inanimate object, Prowl nodded formally, "Yes, sir."

Ultra Magnus watched as Prowl reached past his department leader and activated the controls on the table's primary consol. An astrosecond later an orbital image of Cybertron appeared, floating as a ghost-like projection over the table. Instinctively, all optics on the hologram as Prowl began speaking. The image rotated so that everyone could see the points being addressed as Prowl quickly detailed the current tactical status of all known Decepticon positions. It was a lot of information, but somehow Prowl managed to convey it all succinctly and in a way that was not overwhelming.

Then he shifted to the most recent patterns in Decepticon activity and how, for a brief period early that decaorn they had seemed determined to accomplish something and then it was as if that objective suddenly changed. Prowl presented the evidence supporting that conclusion in the same manner, fully but to the point and without a single wasted word.

It was simultaneously the most thorough and concise briefing Ultra Magnus had ever been given. It was clear that Prowl was both skilled and experienced with such things. Like his request to speak on the record just before his processor was scanned following his first patrol, it illustrated that Prowl was no grunt defector, he was an experienced commander, one used to leading others.

Only when he was coming to the climax of his presentation, did the Praxian hesitate, glancing down at Smokescreen. "We have sufficient evidence to believe that Megatron's initial objective has not changed, only that he is – to this point – successfully keeping his plans on the matter secret from us. Because of the nature of his target and his reasons for going after it, it is highly unlikely that he would be diverted without at least attempting to obtain it. The longer he delays, unfortunately, the more careful his execution will be and the harder it will be to successfully counteract it. Because we have no confirmable information on a specific plan, we have little choice but to secure Iacon to the best of our ability."

He then laid out recommended defense modifications, which included additional automatic turrets on the perimeter and increased ground recognizance and air surveillance. Interestingly, it also included a reorganization of how the response teams and ground forces were stationed around the base. It was not a configuration Ultra Magnus would have necessarily considered, but he did have to admit it made sense once he saw it detailed like that.

He frowned. As logical and beneficial as all of the recommendations were, it still did not address…

"Why Iacon?" Red Alert spoke up then, as if reading Ultra Magnus' thoughts. "And what is he after?"

Prowl hesitated and Ultra Magnus was shocked to see a hint of trepidation flicker behind those otherwise stoic optics as he looked at the security director. "Megatron will attempt to attack Iacon because he knows this is where I am, and he is determined to take me back."

There was a moment of complete silence, as they took that in, during which Ultra Magnus was just as at a loss for words as his companions.

Inferno, interestingly enough, recovered first. "Don't take this wrong, but what evidence do you have to support that?"

Even more interesting, and likewise very telling, Prowl did not answer immediately. Instead he looked back at Optimus, a silent question in his gaze. Ultra Magnus understood immediately and, despite himself, felt his respect for the former Decepticon inch upward: Whatever evidence he had was known to the Prime and Prowl was only going to share it with the Prime's permission, regardless as to how his reputation might suffer if that permission was not granted.

Optimus held the black and white mech's gaze for a long moment and then nodded once. No one missed the interaction, nor failed to comprehend what it signified.

Prowl acknowledged the Prime's gesture and then looked back at Inferno. "Primarily, because he told us."

Reaching forward again, Prowl manipulated the controls.

Ultra Magnus refused to wince as Megatron's image appeared over the conference table. He listened carefully as the message played and, as it ended, found his gaze returning to Prowl.

It was Air Raid who broke the uneasy silence that followed the Decepticon leader's final snarl. "Why are we even doing all this? Why not just hand him over to Megatron? At least he wants the slagger." The flyer's gaze was roving over every individual at the table except the one in question as if looking for support.

That was not what he got however, at least not universally or even remotely. Ultra Magnus let his engine growl. "Are you glitched?"

Nor was he the only one to call down the hot-mouthed airialbot.

However, Optimus lifted a hand, silently cutting off the small chorus. Once everyone had settled, the Prime looked back at the recent defector and Ultra Magnus did likewise. He was not sure what to think of the Praxian's expression; it was something between chagrin, understanding and a touch of awe.

"Prowl?" It was an invitation to answer Air Raid's question.

Prowl blinked and that bare hint to his feelings was again hidden behind a mask of neutrality that did not hide the clear wariness in his optics as he glanced around the table again. He spoke softly. "That threat is nothing more than an attempt to manipulate. Megatron has no interest in sparing Autobot lives and will gladly exterminate all of you. Handing me over to him will change nothing."

"Convenient for you, isn't it." Air Raid bit out, but not with as much confidence as before.

Optimus' frown mirrored Ultra Magnus' as he opened his mouth to call Air Raid on that provocative statement, but Prowl straightened, his optics blazing.

The Praxian spoke before Optimus could, his tone carefully controlled and respectful but no less stern. "While I understand you believe I would be self-serving in this matter, that does not change the fact that gaining custody of me would in no way prevent Megatron from killing as many Autobots as possible."

Ultra Magnus found he was feeling eerily like an academy trainee on a team that was being called down by a senior instructor. It made that sense of surrealism surge back to the surface of his awareness even as Prowl continued, his optics fixed on Air Raid. "However, it is a surprise that anyone at this level of command would think that our Prime would trade even one life so cheaply. If such a trade were even remotely likely to result in a beneficial outcome, I would not be here delivering this briefing, I would be on my way to Kaon."

Silence greeted that statement, or rather the flinty conviction and seriousness with which it was delivered. It took Ultra Magnus a moment to realize that Prowl's clear irritation had not been because Air Raid wanted him to be turned over to Megatron, but because Air Raid had suggested Optimus would consider such a morally questionable course of action.

A former Decepticon had defended the Prime's honor.

That was not something Ultra Magnus would have expected to witness in a hundred vorns.

Air Raid's optics were wide as he realized the relatively gentle dressing down he had just been given, then he growled. "Who do you think you are to use our moral guidelines for your own gain…?"

"He is absolutely correct." Optimus cut him off, his tone clearly indicating he would tolerate no further disruptions from Air Raid. Then their leader's gaze circled the table, the force behind it driving home his words. "Prowl is one of us now and, even if he were not, I would not consign any spark to such a fate as would await him at Megatron's hands. Do you know why?"

No one answered right away, though the question was directed to all of them. Ultra Magnus had thought he understood why not, had believed it to be self-explanatory. But now, something in the way the Prime had asked the question made him wonder if there was more he was not seeing. Looking at his leader, he saw that Optimus was again looking steadily at Prowl. Curious, he looked that way again and saw that that strange mix of emotions were once more battling on the Praxian's face, even though Prowl's gaze was lowered to the table. Then the Praxian straightened, the calm though still faintly awed expression now more fully controlled.

"Do you, Prowl?" Optimus asked, a confident smile audible in his voice even if not visible on his face plate.

All optics shifted to the former Enforcer and Prowl took a moment to compose his answer, looking down to gather his thoughts. Then he brought his gaze back up, locking them onto the Prime's

He spoke softly. "The ability to trust one's commanders not to sell one's life uselessly is a trait unique among Autobots. It differentiates Autobot from Decepticon even more boldly than the other differences in moral coding – or lack thereof among Decepticons. It engenders a loyalty that the Decepticons can only approximate by force and the promise of personal harm."

That look of muted awe wove its way marginally into Prowl's voice as he continued, though it now felt like he was speaking to Optimus rather than the group as a whole. "It is likely what has held your army together for the last six vorns when you had no victory to give them hope. If the Prime will not even sacrifice the life of a former enemy without justifiable cause, it gives all of them the confidence that he will not allow their lives to be uselessly sacrificed either."

There was another long breem of silence on the heels of that relatively passionate statement. Then Elita One spoke, turning rebuking optics onto Air Raid. "Simply put, it's the right thing to do."

Ultra Magnus was nodding before he realized he was, and spoke only an astrosecond later, looking at Prowl. It was the first time he had ever addressed the Praxian directly – or at least respectfully – and he felt a touch guilty having to acknowledge that fact, even just to himself.

"I must admit; I never would have expected such an argument to be spoken so eloquently or convincingly by a mech like you." Then he realized what that might sound like and felt his frame heat as he hurried to add. "No offense intended, of course."

Ultra Magnus cleared his vents nervously as Ratchet smirked and Jazz leaned back in his chair with a smile.

For the second time since he came into the briefing room, Prowl's optics met his and the tactician dipped his helm formally. "I have no grounds to be offended by such a sentiment, sir. Until very recently, I would not have been able to express it either."

The two mechs held the other's gaze a moment longer and in that moment the strange spinning in Ultra Magnus' perception of reality suddenly righted itself, even if it left him feeling a touch unbalanced.

This was not just a 'Con defector he was looking at, he had become more than that. Or perhaps he had always been more. In any case, Ultra Magnus allowed himself to realize – and start to believe – that it was true that Prowl's frame testified to what he was now: an Autobot.


Don't get mad at me *pathetic whimper*… I know this one is relatively short (but really, the last one was super long). I had to split this one and the next one up into two chapters… even though they had originally been planned as one; it just got way too long. The good news: the next chapter should be up relatively soon. :D

I got a lot of comments about how people were really, really upset about how the 'Bots treated Prowl after he scanned Bluestreak's processor last chapter. I hope the opening scene in this one (written specifically you… you know who you are guys) helped assuage some lingering anger/frustration/irritation/fury at the 'Bots. I have to say, I think it's awesome that so many of you are identifying so closely with Prowl… that just makes me giggle and clap my hands like a little girl!

What did you think of Ultra Magnus' POV? Something a little different eh? He is the one Prowl is going to have to be promoted over to become SIC, so I figured we needed to get inside his head a little. Credit to my understanding of Ultra Magnus's basic character goes primarily to Cairistona and her wonderful portrayal of a character I had no idea could be so intriguing.

Finally, Elita One is here! Don't worry, we will be seeing more of her… much more. But not until after the next chapter ('cause I had to split this one). Till then, I hope to hear more from you. After all, you never know when something you say might trigger inspiration…