A/N: This chapter corresponds with Rise Extras 13-16.

24. Capture

I pored over the reports Shockwave had just given me. "I had no idea that our energon supply was so low."

"The additional shipments from Khalkon were enough to keep us running for vorns, but immense amounts of fuel went to activate the Sentinel. Although I put it back into stasis, the fuel expended simply onlining it for a short time has left us a dangerous shortage."

I frowned at the datapad. I'd known my quick actions during the battle at Polyhex would have later consequences, and I'd had no choice but to temporarily activate the Sentinel, but I hadn't expected the situation to be this dire.

"Aren't there energon mines in Tarn?"

"And processing plants as well, but we can't spare the workers from the army. There's been a small stream of new recruits, but not enough to run the mines and plants at full capacity." He had the delicacy to pause, at least, before suggesting, "We have taken a significant number of Autobot prisoners…"

"Absolutely not. I did not abandon the Autobots only to stoop to their level."

"They would do the same to us," Starscream pointed out. I glared across the table at him.

"I won't allow it."

"Then you sentence us to starvation? And for what? Your precious morals?" the older Seeker scoffed, glaring right back. "You signed up for this. Do you want to see your army break down and rust for the sake of your conscience?"

I stared at him, core temperature rising. I couldn't look at the others. How many of them agreed? Was this what they all thought, and only Starscream had the bearings to say it out loud?

Was he right?

But it wasn't only for my conscience. Under my command, the Decepticons had changed. There was sympathy for us—Apis told me and showed me every time I visited her. That sympathy could prove the determining factor in this war, and I would not turn down the same dark path as the Senate had, as my creators had.

"Use any Decepticon we can spare," I answered, hiding all trace of hurt at Starscream's harsh words. "Use automation. Use anything, but get those mines running, even if I have to go down and work the pumps myself."

The rest of our council passed quickly. I remained in the Command Center for a time, slowly recovering from the confrontation. It had been vorns since Starscream and I had last butted heads, and I'd allowed myself to grow accustomed to the rapport between us. This had been unexpected.

Worse, Starscream had made a just point. When it came down to it, could I look the other way from what was essentially slavery if the only alternative was the starvation of my army?

I left the Command Center. The mechs I passed in the halls greeted me or stepped respectfully aside. I knew most of them by designation now. All of them had known me before I'd ever seen them. It was disconcerting to be so widely recognized. And I owed something to all of them—I was responsible for every one.

My pedes led me to the training grounds. It had been a long time since my last good spar, since Ramrod had been staying distant from me. Yet there he was in his usual corner, going through his routine with his usual concentrated ferocity. He didn't see me as I approached, so I watched him silently. Nothing in his appearance suggested the duality inside.

Eventually he noticed me and stopped battling his invisible opponent. There was a moment of silence.

"Hello," I said finally.

"Hello."

"Want to spar?"

"Fine."

He wasn't his usual self, that much was clear. It became especially clear when he landed on his back, defeated.

"You're distracted," I said, extending a hand to help him up. He reached out, then yanked me down with him.

"And you never learn," he said, grinning, but I saw his continued anxiety. "How can I not be distracted?"

"You were never like this before."

"It was easier when I didn't know about him. I feel him all the time now… he's always there. He's always trying to control me."

"He is you," I answered. "You need to come to terms with each other."

"You don't know how it feels," he said, surprisingly vicious, "to know that you aren't supposed to exist. That you aren't meant to control your own body. That at any moment you might be submerged and that everything might be taken away from you."

"If you fought like that on the battlefield, you wouldn't last a cycle. You need to work with Torsion."

"Work with him?" An explosive, bitter laugh burst from him. "He wants my body all to himself… he wants you to himself."

"It isn't like that," I answered, but he didn't look convinced. "May I speak with him?"

"I hate giving up control to him," Ramrod said through his denta. "How can I be sure he won't take over for good?"

"He'll listen to me. Trust me, Ramrod."

For a cycle he fidgeted. Finally, he sighed. His posture shifted subtly, shoulders rising defensively, optics dimming, and I knew that Ramrod had surrendered control to Torsion.

"I don't want to erase him," he said first. "I don't want to control him. It's safer in here. But he doesn't believe me. He thinks…"

"I know," I said, trying to soothe him. "Isn't there anything you can do? If he really feels everything that you feel, and the other way around, shouldn't he already know your intentions?"

"He's blocked me out," Torsion said unhappily. It was eerie—the body, the face, the voice, even their inflections were identical, but he wasn't the same as Ramrod. "He won't listen to me. And there's so little that we have in common."

"That isn't true. Each of you is part of the other."

"The only thing we share is how we feel about…"

He stopped abruptly. I had a feeling I knew what he'd been about to say. That was a problem if rather than realizing that their feelings were the same because they shared the same Spark, each was jealous of the other. My processor ached—this was all very confusing.

"He'll understand. You need to give him time."

"It's been decacycles," he fretted.

"Keep trying. I'll do what I can, but in the end it's between the two of you."

He nodded miserably before, in an instant, Ramrod was back.

"What did he say to you?"

"You didn't hear?"

"I never know what happens when he's in control."

"He wants you to listen to him. Give him a chance."

Ramrod stood up sharply, lifting me too as an afterthought, then transformed and left without another word.

Even more upset now, I retired to my quarters, flopping down onto the berth. Just when things had seemed to be going well, suddenly all was chaos. I desperately wanted to talk to someone, anyone who wouldn't be hostile. Starscream was angry with me, Ramrod was avoiding me, and Apis had never seemed so far away.

When I was a sparkling, I would have talked with Optimus, or even just sat in the same room, absorbing his calm presence. Now all I had were my occasional visits with Apis, but those were few and far between. There was no one I could confide in here outside of Starscream and Ramrod. If Thundercracker were still online, I could have spoken with him, but he was gone.

Recharge was slow in coming. My Spark felt heavy and cold; loneliness consumed me.

Nothing improved as the decacycles passed. There were skirmishes with the Autobots, ground gained and lost. After a long struggle, we captured Uraya, Tarn's neighbor, another traditionally Decepticon city-state, but though this gained us some soldiers, it did nothing to ease our energon shortage. We began to ration our fuel more carefully, finding as many ways to conserve energy as we could. Ramrod and Torsion both avoided me, and Starscream's attitude remained sour.

There was nothing unusual about the battle at Helex. It was a strategic state to hold, since from there we could advance on the Tagan Heights and the refineries there. The Autobots were proving resilient—they saw the danger of losing the Heights. The aerial troops, the stronger of our number, led the assault, Starscream in command.

After two and a half orbits of fighting, I received word that Autobot reinforcements were on the way from Tyrest.

/Take beta command and stop them,/ he ordered me shortly. I balked, as did Skywarp.

/Hey, Star, maybe we shouldn't split up the trine,/ my wingmate commed. /Crosswind can go, can't he?/

/Enough. I am the Air Commander, not you./ Even on internal comm, Starscream sounded spiteful and snappish. He addressed me again. /I'm sure you can find your own way back./

Without wasting more words, he took the rest of the fliers to carry on the battle, leaving me behind with beta command. Frustrated at our continued feud, I led them to intercept the reinforcements.

Starscream occupied my thoughts, even in the midst of battle, and that was my mistake.

The fighting was intense, the fire thick in the air. I had to endure the sight and sound of my fliers as they were shot from the sky, the lucky ones landing among our ground troops where they would be taken to a medic, the unlucky ones landing in the middle of the Autobots.

A nearby helicopter called for help; not as agile as a Seeker, he was having difficulty evading the Autobots' shots. I flew to his aid, trying to return fire and force the Autobots to scatter. One remained remarkably cool-headed, however, and a moment later, too fast for me to escape, a missile shrieked at us, striking the helicopter dead on.

The other mech stood no chance. The explosion sent parts spinning in all directions and suddenly my right wing was afire with agony. I lost control, going into a wild spin as I plummeted towards the ground. The last thing I felt was the crushing impact, agony blazing through all of my systems, before everything went dark.

I onlined feeling restless under my aches. Before I activated my optics, I knew I wouldn't enjoy the view—my arms were pinned above my head, prickling from the stunted energon flow, and I felt a vocal inhibitor clamped onto my face. Someone had done a patch-up on my wounds, as I wasn't spilling energon or sparking anywhere. I could feel weld-lines on my plating where my more serious gashes had been mended. After that crash, I was lucky to be online. But of more concern was the empty numbness I felt from my right wing.

Alarmed, I onlined my optics, turning my head to see that half of my wing was gone, shorn off in a ragged line, the sensors clumsily dampened. For a moment I could only stare in horror. Finally I turned to reassure myself that my left wing remained whole before looking around me. I saw solid walls, a dark ceiling, a door. The room was divided in half by an energy barrier. My half was divided in turn into three smaller cells, but the others were unoccupied.

I tried my comm: no response. Checking my arms, I found to no surprise that my cannons were missing. One sword was gone with my wing, but the other remained, still hidden… not that I could reach it. I attempted to activate my thrusters but found that I could not. They had been disconnected from my neural network.

There was nothing quite as frustrating as being locked out of my own systems. Was this what Starscream and the other Seekers had endured during their long vorns of slavery?

The walls and ceiling were depressingly close and even now seemed to shrink in on me. I felt twitchy, nervous, a gnawing anxiety aching in my Spark. I had never done well in closed spaces, and this one was tiny.

I had been captured. My chronometer told me that seven megacycles had passed since I had offlined. I was alone, unable to contact my allies, unarmed, disabled, and injured. I was also filthy, covered in dried energon and scorch marks. I remembered the explosion of the helicopter—a flying rotor had likely severed my wing—and I remembered the crash, but nothing that had happened afterwards.

There was nothing to do, then, but wait for another mech to appear… that, and plot my escape.

The outer area remained deserted. I locked my joints, trying to work out an escape route. Perhaps I could overpower the guards when they came for me, since the chains were far too strong for me to break free now.

Starscream's words came vividly back to me: "You have become the Decepticon cause… If you fall, so do we." The Senate would strike fast and hard at me in any way that they could. If I could not escape, the best I could hope for was martyrdom—though that wasn't the option I would prefer. Although I would give my life for the cause, I was more useful to the Decepticons alive.

Before I could finish formulating my escape plan, my captors revealed themselves. Blue-opticked mechs with the red Autobot symbol on their chestplates came in, deactivating the energy field and entering my cell. The moment they came within range I kicked at them, using the wall as my launching point, but they caught my legs and pinned me. I couldn't help but admire their cold efficiency: first they released one arm and clapped one half of the stasis cuffs onto it, rendering me helpless—one arm was all it took, so there was only so much I could struggle when they released my other arm from the chains.

The Autobots escorted me silently through dark, featureless halls. Once or twice I moved as though to break away, but the stasis cuffs were set to their highest power and the guards treated each twitch as an escape attempt.

We came out into a dimly-lit circular chamber. Numerous mechs with expensive-looking frames sat in a large half-circle, elevated above the level where I stood. Behind these was a small audience. Blue optics stared at me from each mech; unsurprisingly, no Decepticons were in attendance. The guards pushed me forward to stand in the center of the room, where I would be in plain view of everyone present, purplish-red light illuminating me from below. My own face looked back at me from various viewscreens set about the walls for the convenience of anyone who didn't already know me.

A blue glow lit the mech in the center and the quiet murmur of talk died out. I scarcely looked at him; instead, my optics scanned the mechs behind him until I found who I was looking for. Optimus sat near the back, and though his face was hidden beneath his mask, I knew he was frowning. How could he have let this happen? Would he speak for me? Had he already?

"Decepticon Nova," the center mech said. The symbol of the Senate stood out on his chest, gold against rich purple plating. Looking around, I saw that all of the mechs in the front row bore the sigil as well. "I am required to list your charges as follows: assault, murder, destruction of state property…"

I listened in disbelief as the list grew, even the most trivial offenses, as though they'd sat about and thought of every crime they could possibly pin onto me.

"…multiple violations of the slave code…" My energon turned to ice. How could they have charged me under the slave code? I was no slave, I never had been… unless they had decided it the moment I was revealed as a Decepticon.

"…incitement to rebellion, bold and unrecanting defiance of the Axis Decree, and high treason against the Senate."

I stood in numb shock. Starscream had once told me that merely sympathizing with the Decepticons was enough to make a slave of me, but I hadn't been able to comprehend it. I still couldn't. While we were fighting, we became free; we didn't have to worry about the slave code or the Axis Decree. Yet in the optics of the Senate, we were all nothing but rebellious slaves, liable to be recaptured and set back to work at any time. I wouldn't be tried as a prisoner of war. I wouldn't even be tried as a citizen, as a mech. They saw me as a slave.

I snuck a glance at Optimus, but he said nothing. Why was he letting this happen? He was the Prime! Surely he had the power to stop this!

"As you have been unable to produce a single witness on your behalf, we find you guilty on all charges." Not a whisper disturbed the silence. This verdict surprised no one. "Beneath the law, the proper sentence is termination." Again, silence. The Senator's mouthplates were faintly curved in a smirk. I showed no outer reaction. I would make myself untouchable, unreachable… I would never give them the satisfaction of seeing into my Spark.

"Nevertheless, we of the Senate are inclined to extend our most gracious mercy towards you and to grant you our free pardon… provided that you heartily repent your offenses and make humble submission to us. In return for your Spark, you will give service. By lawful right of the Axis Decree, you are now the sole property of the master to whom we gift you. Guards, prepare him for transport. This court is now adjourned."

Throughout the sentence I had waited for someone to speak… anyone. But no one did. I watched Optimus sit in silence. Why didn't he speak? Why didn't he defend me?

The murmuring came back as mechs began to shift and stand. You call that a trial? I thought venomously as the guards came forward to take me away. I glared at the Senator who had sentenced me. He met my gaze, his smirk widening. He seemed to look upon me not as a mech, but as a commodity to be traded, a resource to be used and sucked dry. I didn't care for it. I narrowed my optics at him. Let him see that I would not be intimidated, that I would not break.

The guards dragged me out of the chamber, back into the gray halls. Numb with shock, I no longer struggled.

We halted suddenly and I saw Optimus in front of us. He looked at me, then at one of my guards.

"May I speak with him?"

"I'm sorry, Prime, we're to take him to the shuttle. He's to talk to no one."

"For a moment only."

"It's the Senate's orders," the guard answered. "I'm sorry, Prime…"

Optimus took a step forward, towering over the other mech, blue optics surprisingly icy. "I dragged you out of the ruins of Tyger Pax. Not the Senate."

The guard hesitated. Then he opened an antechamber and signaled the others to remain outside. Prime joined us.

"I can't leave you alone, sir,"

"I understand."

The guard moved to the door to give us space. Feeling betrayed, I looked up at Prime. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but with the vocal inhibitor, I could not so much as click.

Optimus sighed. Once he would have retracted his mask to speak with me, but with the guard standing there, the mask remained in place.

"You know that I've never supported slavery," he said. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. I fought for you, Nova. I told them I didn't approve of this… this extreme course of action. I tried everything."

My optics must have spoken volumes.

"I want the Decepticons free as much as you. But I have an obligation to my mechs. The power of the Prime means next to nothing, Nova. The Senate leads. I cannot go against what is decreed in Cybertronian law."

"Excellently put."

Both of us turned to look at the mech who had just entered. I recognized him as the Senator who had spoken during the mock trial. Close up, he had a beautiful face, aesthetically perfect, but it was marred by his sneer.

"Senator Ratbat," Optimus greeted. His optics were cold, and he didn't bow. "I thought you were returning immediately to Kalis."

"And so I am, once these worthless guards do as I ordered and bring my slave to the shuttle."

"Yours?" Evidently this was news to Prime. Ratbat presented a datapad, which Optimus took.

"Senate directive. This one's mine." His optics swept over me, disdain and interest combined, making me bristle.

"I wasn't informed of this."

"I just informed you," Ratbat replied smoothly. I thought that the datapad would crack under Prime's grip. "Let me say this as respectfully as possible," the Senator added, not sounding respectful at all. "The leader of the Decepticons was your ward, and the Senate has decided it would be unwise to seek your judgment in this matter. Now get him to the shuttle," he snapped at the guards. I looked at Optimus's face, his burning optics, and hope surged within me. Optimus wouldn't let this happen. He couldn't…

But Prime only handed the datapad back to Ratbat, silent, and the guards took me from the room. They marched me outside for a brief moment and I drank in the light, stretching my wings and wishing I had control of my thrusters.

Ratbat's personal guards took me from the others—I could tell they served the Senator because each bore a small bronze Senate insignia on his armor. We entered the sleek shuttle and they tossed me in the brig, settling down to watch over me.

It took four megacycles to reach our destination—Kalis, Prime had said. The guards came for me and I gave them a fight. Improbable plans for escape chased themselves around and around in my processor: I could have overpowered the guards and taken control of the shuttle; I could have kidnapped the Senator; I could have willed my thrusters back to operation and flown off.

I could have, if I'd been Starscream. I could have, if I'd been Megatron.

I managed to pin a guard with my shoulder, but the next moment something jabbed into my midsection and hot pain lanced through me, electrifying my circuitry and sending me to the floor. The second guard grinned, twirling his shockstick before striking me over the helm with it. I lost all higher functions for a moment, regaining consciousness three kliks later to a host of warnings and alerts flashing red at me. A guard heaved me to my pedes. Although I was too dizzy to fight back, the guard with the shockstick laughed and rammed it into my side again. My vocalizer spat static and I coughed up energon, my joints seizing and jerking.

"Learn your place now," the aggressor laughed, his handsome face smiling and his blue optics bright. "It will save us some work later."

I glared at him through smoldering, flickering optics, but did nothing else. I wouldn't play his game.

I took my first look at my new residence as they dragged me out of the shuttle. It was a huge complex, a brilliant golden tower set apart from the rest of the city. There were mechs with the insignia of the Senate everywhere, mostly guards. I saw slaves, too, miserable creatures barely resembling mechs anymore. The occasional dull red optic flickered my way, but if they looked up for more than a klik, a guard was on them, adding a new scar with a shockstick or energon lance.

They hurried me inside before the tantalizing blue sky could give me any ideas. Inside was just as opulent as out. The Senator clearly loved his wealth—and to show it off. I sneered in disgust as we passed through ostentatious halls. Finally we entered a smaller hall, where Ratbat waited. He smiled as we came in. It didn't reach his yellow optics.

"Ah, here he is."

He paced around me, inspecting every astroinch of my frame. I glared defiantly back.

"Well, you'll make an excellent trophy," he gloated, signaling one of the guards to remove the inhibitor, freeing my mouth.

He was baiting me, but I took it anyway.

"I'm no trophy," I hissed, putting on my best Starscream. "That would imply you've done something to deserve one. What have you done but betray your own?"

"This coming from a Decepticon? You've got bearings." He smirked. "You'll be a difficult one to break… but I've never failed yet."

Ratbat unshuttered the wide window, presenting a clear view of the mechs laboring below. "All mine," he said proudly. "Each broken to my will. No delusions of grandeur, no hope for freedom. They don't remember what 'freedom' is. That is, until you started to raise such a fuss. They've gotten restless at the news of your little revolt."

He turned to stare hungrily at me. "They've been hearing all about you: their hero, their would-be savior. And now you belong to me. Now they will see you as a slave. They will see you kneeling at my pedes, following my commands without resistance. Broken."

"I don't take orders from anyone," I sneered. "You have no right—"

"I have every right," he snarled back, yellow optics narrowing. "You are my property, and I will do with you as I will."

"I belong to no one, Autoscum—you're lower than the Autobots, nothing but a pretender, a mud-crawling credit-grubber."

The ones holding me tightened their grip as Ratbat's face lost all its beauty in an ugly scowl. His voice dripping in contempt, he growled, "I would strike you for your insolence, but I find myself unwilling to sully my hand."

"Maybe I don't want your hand sullying my faceplates. But that's your style, isn't it: sitting back and letting others do the dirty work while you reap the profits? Poor little Cassetticon, you're not fit to lick my thrusters."

The Senator's optics flashed with rage and he jerked his head stiffly at his minions. They dragged me to the side of the chamber, where I saw an ugly slab of metal. I'd seen others like it in Autobot dwellings when I'd been younger, before I had joined the Decepticons. I redoubled my struggles, but both mechs were larger and stronger than I. My cockpit cracked as they bent me over it, fastening me securely. I snarled at the indignity, tugging at the chains.

Ratbat approached from behind. "You will learn obedience," he hissed. I heard the distinct buzzing snap of an electrowhip as he cracked it against the floor. "I will teach you to respect me. Or, if you will not, I will teach you to fear me!"

The whip shrieked through the air and struck the backs of my wings. Fire blazed through my systems, searing pain making me arch. My mouth opened, but my vocalizer—thankfully—emitted no sound. The sensors of my wings amplified the sensation. The only small mercy was that my right wing was still deadened, one small island of numbness amid the blazing pain. The whip cracked again. I tried to think of receiving my Decepticon sigils; surely that pain had been worse… hadn't it…? I gritted my denta—I would not cry out. I would not give Ratbat the satisfaction of a scream. That was a victory I would not give him. I clenched my fists around the chains that held me, my grip so tight that my hands trembled with the strain.

By the time Ratbat was through with me, I shook all over. I hadn't made a sound. My wings burned and tingled painfully, warnings flashing across my optics. I gulped in air through my vents to cool my overheating systems as I pried my fingers from the chains.

The hum of the electrowhip stopped. Cool fingers touched my wings, brushing over inflamed sensors, and I shuddered. That deceptively gentle touch was more painful than the beating.

"There," Ratbat purred, silky smooth on my audios. "I think you've had enough for now, hmm?"

I bared my denta at him, hoping he could see. I would show him that I wouldn't break, no matter what he did to me. "Slag off, bastard," I growled, borrowing a choice term from Skywarp. He laughed.

"I've always enjoyed a challenge," he said. "Your resilience is amusing, but I doubt it will last long. You'll mind me soon enough."