Chapter 44

Hey there, everyone! Here's the next chapter. :)

Credit goes to the always awesome Litahatchee for letting me borrow her idea of carrying from "Night Fire", which is a dark but super awesome read, by the way. The idea of femme in hiding goes to PAW07 and her story "Promise Not to Tell" – a super funny, super sweet read (can't wait for the next chapter). The idea of dancers was lent to me by Okami-Chan from her story "Rhythm and Hues". Totally awesome, by the way. And LittleMewLugia let me use her idea of subadult mechs and femmes from her story "Hunting Party". :cough: A very sexy read, might I add. ;) Lots of love going around.

Lot's of thank you's to Litahatchee, who is like the best person ever to bounce ideas with, FYI. Thank you to everyone who reviewed that last chapter. I'm sorry for putting those two random smut chapters in there…I was kind of hoping it'd help tide y'all over until I got my lazy butt around to updating. There's a lot of stuff happening in this chapter, which is why it took me forever to update. That and advanced calculus. :grumble grumble:

An energon-solar converter is an invention of my own. It's made up of solar panels and a few Cybertronian devices to convert solar energy and different chemicals into energon. That's the only thing I can think of that isn't fully explained in this chapter.

Enjoy! :cue the foreshadowing evil laughter:

Nightshade couldn't remember much of the trip to wherever the drones took her. She remembered the failing daylight on her half-open optics, a few blurs of green, and cold air washing over her frame. Then nothing more, until she heard screams of rage and anger from Chromia and a few blasts from her EMP generator. Nightshade had smirked to herself that time – Chromia was not a femme to cross.

Emirate did not know what he was getting himself into. Chromia was wild and unpredictable in battle. She showed no mercy to anyone who crossed her. Nightshade smirked to herself once more. If Chromia could whip Ironhide in hand to hand combat, Emirate truly did not stand a chance.

Then everything went dark after that thought. She could have been in stasis for an hour or a week, Nightshade did not know and could not tell. Her processes were still scrambled from the lack of energon. The only thing she had access to right now was her sparkling. Streak was fine, if not slightly underenergized. The little mech was unaware of the danger but he could sense something was wrong. Thankfully, the little one instinctively stayed as quiet and as still as possible, doing his best not to draw attention to himself or his femme creator.

Nightshade managed to crack her optics open. Bright light burned into her optical software, making her whimper at the agonizing burn. The lights instantly dimmed and a face hovered over hers. It slowly came into focus. Nightshade blinked up at the ivory colored femme. She was rather plain in the face plates but her frame more than made up for that fact. She was exquisitely built, light and delicate. She was covered in rare strips of metal and tiny gems. Nightshade wondered where her creators had gotten the credits for her body.

"You're awake. That is good," the femme said softly, "You were quite underenergized when the drones brought you here. I've set up an energon line, but I'm afraid I do not know what else to do."

Nightshade only stared at her suspiciously, glancing around for Chromia.

"Are you looking for your friend? She's over here," the femme continued, gently patting a berth next to Nightshade's. Chromia lay on her back, her entire frame covered in scratches and dents. Nightshade's optics instantly went dark with anger.

"What did you do to her?" Nightshade snarled, struggling to sit up. The femme scooped one hand behind Nightshade to help her sit up. Nightshade swatted her hand away, swinging her legs over the edge of the berth. The femme hung back, wringing her hands worriedly.

"I haven't done a thing. She woke up before the drones could disarm her and attacked them. Of course they retaliated, but they haven't done any permanent damage. She and her child are fine," the femme said, sounding offended. Nightshade only booted up a scanner to verify the femme's statement. She was right. Chromia and her sparkling were in perfect health.

"You're a medic?"

A sharp nod from Nightshade.

"In this language, my name can be roughly translated to Maia. What is yours?"

"I go by Nightshade," she answered curtly, rolling Chromia onto her back and checking her wounds. They were shallow gouges on her chest, almost as though the drone tried to hold her back. Nightshade clucked disapprovingly as she deposited a few bits of spare soldering wire onto the berth. A flick of the wrist activated the soldering tool Ratchet had given her.

"And she is Chromia, is she not?"

Another nod from Nightshade. Maia only nodded and watched as Nightshade gently repaired Chromia's mild wounds. Nightshade pulled out a phial and injected the contents into one of Chromia's fuel lines, watching as the femme's optics powered up. Chromia groaned quietly and sat up slowly, propping herself up with her hands. Nightshade wrapped her arm around her waist, taking some of the strain off of the fresh welds.

"Frag. You missed one Pit of a fight, Nightshade," Chromia said, giving her a weak smirk. Nightshade snorted. How typical of Chromia. Awake and the first thing she mentions is fighting.

"Good to see that you're doing fine," Nightshade said. Chromia's optics narrowed – she'd seen Maia. Chromia's processes immediately switched into battle mode.

"I'm Maia," the ivory femme said, delicately extending one hand. Chromia merely nodded. Maia retracted her hand, looking hurt.

"I suppose I should go, then. Lord Emirate will be with you shortly," Maia said, rising gracefully, "I will tend to you later."

The femme turned and left the room.

Emirate stepped into the room no less than five minutes later. He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest plate. Well, this wasn't good. He had two femmes to deal with now. Chromia was wide awake and growling quietly. Her chest was covered in fresh welds. Ah. The other femme was a medic. This could be very profitable for him.

"What is your name?" he asked, directing the question towards the smaller blue femme.

"My name is Nightshade," she responded, sharing a glance with Chromia. Emirate only made a humming noise before turning to one of the windows. He ran through the files the drones had stolen from the system. One side of his lip components quirked into a smile when he read her information. Bonded to Ratchet for almost five years. This could work out for him.

"You are bonded to the chief medical officer, are you not?" Emirate asked, his gaze on the Autobot base. Chromia and Nightshade shared another glance – how did he know? As though sensing their question, Emirate spoke again.

"My drones hacked the wrong component of the base and pulled up medical files," Emirate said, his nasal plate crinkled slightly in disgust. He turned to Nightshade, one optic ridge raised as though to ask 'well?'

"Yes, why?"

The mech only nodded and turned his gaze back outside. Nightshade and Chromia shared a third uncomfortable glance. Where was this questioning going? What was he going to do to them? And more importantly, what was to become of their respective sparklings? Nightshade fidgeted uncomfortably, reaching to Streak through their bond. The little mech latched onto her presence and held on, gently and lovingly caressing her. Nightshade's throat suddenly ached. She would do anything to keep her little one safe.

"Do you know how much your mate would be willing to pay for your sparkling's safe return?" Emirate asked conversationally, glancing toward the base. He would have to make his demands quickly. He could see into some of the windows. There was a flurry of activity going on inside. If anything, Prime was gathering troops to storm the ship.

"What do you mean? How do you know about my child?" Nightshade asked angrily, running a systems check. No one had downloaded any of her information.

"By the scar running across your abdomen. The drone accidentally gave you the abortive agent. I am also assuming that since you are functioning properly, that your sparkling is alive. It really wasn't very difficult to find out," Emirate said dryly. Nightshade bristled, ready to speak, but Emirate cut her off.

"Maia has informed me of your abilities as a medic. I need a medic. However, I do not need a wailing sparkling on board my ship. Your child will be sent back to your mate," Emirate continued, his voice soft and emotionless. Nightshade hissed quietly, her optics narrowing. Emirate held up one hand.

"Do not argue with me. Either it stays with your mate or I will take care of it myself," Emirate said, his voice sharp as the glare he sent in her direction. Nightshade backed down, subconsciously placing her hand over her chest plates. Streak stirred slightly and stretched out.

"I'd rather not be known as a murderer," he added softly, "I am many things, but I am not a killer." Nightshade fell silent instantly. Her optics narrowed dangerously. He pretended not to notice her defiant action. He would have to break her of her stubborn streak later on.

"Good. Chromia, you already know why you are here," he said, turning from Nightshade to face Chromia.

"The rules have changed, Emirate," Chromia said, her voice steady and confident. Emirate shook his head, a slow smirk crossing his face plates. Naïve little Chromia truly didn't know.

"The new Book of Codes is invalid. I found a copy of the original in your medic's library files. You belong to me, like it or not," Emirate said, his voice neutral, "And I have the original contract your creators signed."

The mech brought the contract out of subspace, hefting the datapad in the palm of his hand. Nightshade started. Ratchet had deleted all of those files, hadn't he? Then her optics widened. She was at fault. She had been given a copy of The Book of Codes when she was little more than an intern. She had saved it as an old file.

This…this was her fault.

"What will you give to keep your child safe, Chromia?"

She froze as she realized the terms of his contract. Emirate allowed a small smirk to cross his facial plates and spoke.

"Exactly. You will stay with me until your sparkling is born. Then your bond with Ironhide will be broken. You will be bound to me and your sparkling will be raised by Ironhide."

Chromia narrowed her optics at him, a low growl in her throat. Emirate crossed his arms over his chest plate.

"Or I can just produce another dose of the abortive agent and be done with it. Like I said before, I would hate to be known as a murderer, Chromia," Emirate said, dropping his hands. Nightshade watched the exchange, noting Chromia's defeated posture. The mech was playing her, trying to make her believe that there truly was no other option. Chromia felt her spark falter when the spark she carried fluttered. Was Emirate lying to them? She shared a panic stricken glance with Nightshade, begging for reassurance. Emirate noticed.

"I am not a liar, my dear. I am hurt that you would think that I would go back on my word. You can trust that your sparkling will be safe if you agree to my contract," Emirate said, inclining his head in Chromia's direction. Chromia shied away slightly.

"Very well. I will speak with Prime. I will meet with him as soon as possible. There is a bathing area beyond the first door to your left. You may use it as you wish. Maia will be in shortly to tend to your needs. Nightshade, please come with me," Emirate said politely, bowing his head to the femmes. Nightshade hesitated before following him out of the room. If he tried anything, the dagger hidden in her wrist compartment would have a new home wedged between his back plates. But for now…she had no reason to attack him.

She followed him silently until he came to a set of stainless steel doors. He pushed the access button and went in. Nightshade cautiously followed him into the room. The lights above flickered on.

"This is the medical bay. It is yours now. Enter your name and medical access code on that computer and you may return to Chromia," Emirate said, motioning to the terminal. Nightshade gave him a suspicious glance. If she entered her name and codes, she was tied to this ship until it was resold, commandeered, or destroyed. Nightshade glanced at the computer terminal again.

"Why?"

"You need to register as CMO of this ship," Emirate said, a touch of impatience in his voice, "And I'd rather you do it as soon as possible."

Nightshade typed her name and medical code in slowly at the pointed glare she received. Once she was finished, Emirate motioned to the door once more.

"Good. Now you may return to Chromia. You are not allowed to wander about the ship unless Maia or one of my drones is with you," Emirate said, opening the door and following her out into the hallway, "Once we leave this solar system, you will be free to do as you please."

Nightshade nodded curtly, wondering what she had just gotten herself into. But as CMO of this ship, she had access to a variety of different things. Her optics narrowed slightly and her spark leaped in triumph. She'd hack into the systems and steal as much information as possible. Then she would strike.

Nightshade's true name could not be translated, so she had assumed the name of a deadly but beautiful plant. She had chosen that name for the method she used to dispatch her targets early on in her career in the Autobot Army. She would silently poison her targets and disappear into the shadows. Prime and Elita One were the only ones on base that knew of her previous career. And she intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

"Follow this hallway until it ends. Take a left and go down three doors. That is where you and Chromia are staying. Have a pleasant evening," Emirate said, inclining his head slightly.

Secretary of Defense Keller stared at the images on his screen. A routine F-22 flyby over the Autobot base had revealed some very interesting images. There was a group of no less than thirty armed mechs standing in front of the base. Prime was standing in the middle, motioning toward the ship that had arrived two days ago. Prime had warned him about the new arrival. He was some sort of pompous self-centered egoist - which was actually the nicest thing Prime had said about the mech. Optimus had also warned him that things could get 'ugly' around those parts.

Now Keller was trying to keep the President from declaring war on the Autobots. The man was screaming at his subordinates, screaming for more weapons and ships off the coast and more jets. Keller rubbed his aching head – he could notwait until elections. The President even had the President of Russia on the line, yammering away about possible war preparations. Keller sighed again – well, now they were definitely revealing the Autobots.

He picked up the special cell phone Ratchet had given him. It was a direct link to Prime's communication's system. Ironhide's communication frequency was in there, too, but Prime had warned against calling after eight at night. Keller vaguely wondered why, but decided not to ask what Ironhide did at night. Especially now that his little lady was with him. He dialed Prime's number and waited.

"…Optimus here."

"Optimus, we've just received word that there is a heavily armed group just outside of your base," Keller said, leaning back in his chair. He picked up a sandwich and took a small bite. He heard a sigh.

"Yes, we're about to raid Emirate's ship."

"I see. Any particular reason? I've got President Smith screaming at me. The President of Russia and the Prime Minister both want to know why President Smith is raving about 'gigantic metal robots' and 'nuclear weapons'," Keller said dryly. Then he heard a siren go off. "Oh, son of a…President Sidorov is asking if we're declaring war on his country…no, wait. Vice President Johnson has wrestled the phone away from him. We're fine…for now."

"…I see. Emirate has taken two of our femmes…hostage."

"Oh. Is…is there anything we can do?"

"Just tell the President not to attack us. We need to get the femmes away from Emirate before he launches his ship."

"Do you mean that he is still able to travel off of the planet?"

"Yes. He is still warp capable."

Keller took another bite of his sandwich and put 'warp capable' on a list of things to ask Wheeljack.

"What aren't you telling me, Prime?"

"He's taken Chromia and Nightshade. You've met them both, I believe."

"And what else has he done?"

"You're on a secure line, are you not?"

"Yes, I am," Keller responded, sitting up. This was getting interesting. He finished off his sandwich, stuffing the remains into his mouth and chewing greedily.

"Both females are carrying."

"Carrying what," Keller asked, managing to speak around the mouthful of tomato and bread crust. There was another moment of silence.

"You could say that both females are with child."

Keller inhaled and tried to swallow his sandwich at the same time. As a result, he began choking. He dropped the phone and began coughing, trying to dislodge the food. After a few frenzied moments, he managed to get the food down.

"They're what?!"

"Pregnant. Expectant. Childbearing –"

"I don't need a list of synonyms, Optimus. I'm just in shock."

"I did say that we didn't need the AllSpark to bolster our numbers." Prime sounded amused. Keller made a note to visit his cardiologist after all this was through. Lord only knew he was going to need some sort of cardiac therapy for all this excitement at his age.

"But…you said…colonists!" Keller's brain wasn't quite past its initial shock of having learned that the Transformers could and did have sex…well, whatever their version of it was. He had the sudden mental image of cables and flashdrives sticking out of inappropriate places, and he shook his head. Hard.

"I suppose I should have been a bit more direct with our methods of reproduction. I will explain it to you later, Mr. Keller. But now I must go. Ratchet and Ironhide are about to fritz."

"…alright."

"I ask that you say nothing of the femmes or their conditions. If you must, tell the President that Emirate has taken two of our children. Stretch the truth, if you will."

"…alright."

"Optimus out."

Keller stared at the cell phone in his hand for a good fifteen seconds before hitting the 'end call' button and dropping it into his shirt pocket. He leaned his head into his hands and wished for a bottle of good, strong whiskey. His brain was starting to wander into the dangerous territory of imagining Chromia and Ironhide doing things together. After composing himself, Keller stood up, brushed bits of tomato and breadcrumbs from his lap, and headed to the President's office. He had some explaining to do.

Prowl had to give Jazz credit. Even with the beautiful white paint on his frame, the mech could still move like a ghost and leave no trace behind, not even a footprint. Soundwave had just confirmed that there were no security measures outside of the ship. Now Jazz was underneath the hull, busily cutting away at the thick metal. Bundles of wires dropped and Jazz began to gently sort through them, searching for the right type of wire. He found what he was looking for and sliced through it – security cameras were taken care of for the moment. Then he began peeling the ship's outer plating away.

He reached in and began pulling out bundles of wires. Jazz brushed up against something and looked up. He froze. There was a missile hidden among the wires and cables. Jazz slowly began looking around. Now that he was actually inside the hull of the ship, he could make out turrets and cannons, all neatly folded out of the way. A second missile caught his attention. Jazz gasped quietly and froze where he was.

His spark leapt into his throat – if that thing went off, everything carbon based in a five hundred yard radius would be eradicated. That type of weapon had merely been in its testing stages while he was at the Academy. It would even cause CPU damage to any mech within a hundred yards.

The Autobot base waswithin a hundred yards. There were twenty two younglings residing on the base. There was no telling how the missile would affect their processes.

Jazz immediately dropped back down onto the ground and slowly backed away. He made sure to stick to the shadows. Then he brought up his comm. line and spoke quietly, almost as though there were listening devices around him.

"Prowl, we've got a situation," he said.

"What kind?" Prowl asked.

"…Emirate's ship is carrying class four weapons, maybe class five."

Prowl spluttered on his end of the line. His fuel pump momentarily stopped at the mention of weaponry.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. From what I can see he's got one of those carbon degraders. He's also got side mounted turrets, solar particle cannons, and a few neural scramblers."

"Primus.I'll let Prime know. You need to get back in there, Jazz. Do whatever it takes to locate Chromia and Nightshade."

"Yes, sir," Jazz said, "Jazz out."

From the moment Prowl entered his office, Optimus knew there was something very wrong with the situation. Prowl's door wings were twitching. The normal calculating look on his face had been replaced with one of fear. Prime's fuel tank went cold.

"What's going on, Prowl?"

"That isn't a passenger ship, sir," Prowl said quietly, "It's a class five war vessel disguised as one, sir."

Prime froze. A war vessel? This close to the base?

"Sir, your orders?"

Prime ignored him and stood in the window, gazing out at the gleaming ship. There was no outward sign of there being weapons underneath that hull.

"Sir, your orders," Prowl stated once more, his doorwings twitching at an alarming rate.

"Get Jazz in there. Tell him that he is to use any force necessary to disable Emirate," Prime said softly, resting his head against the cool glass in the window, "Once Emirate is out of the picture we will put any and all nuclear weapons in one of the passenger shuttles and deploy it. There's a black hole about a thousand light years away. If Wheeljack can get the warp engines running, we can destroy the warheads there. Until we can contact Emirate, have everyone retreat back into the base." Prowl nodded and saluted his commander.

"Get the younglings into the lowest level of the base. It's the only place they will not be harmed by the neural scramblers. Have a few of Elita's femmes escort them there. They will stay with the younglings," Optimus said, continuing quietly. Prowl nodded.

"I will inform Wheeljack of the situation. Jazz already knows what he has to do. And…the femmes?"

"If you can contact either one, tell them to stay out of the way. Make sure Chromia understands. She's carrying – she is in no condition to be fighting at the moment," Optimus said, his exhaust sighing gently.

"What the hell do you mean?!"

"Mr. President, I mean exactly what I say," Keller said, trying to ignore the stabbing pain behind his eyes. The migraine had started the second he walked into the President's office. Now it was almost debilitating. His body broke out in a cold sweat suddenly.

"You mean they are about to wage a war on United States soil?" President Smith asked quietly, dangerously. Keller shook his head, wondering why the man wouldn't listen.

"No, sir. I did not say that. I said that there is a stand off between Prime and his men and the owner of that vessel. We don't have any details, nor does Prime. He said he would get in touch as soon as he knew something, sir," Keller said, biting down his impatience. He picked up his bottle of water and took a few sips, rubbing at his temples to ease the pain.

"Prime answers to me from now on. Your cell phone, Keller," President Smith said, holding his hand up. Keller only stared up at the man. The weak sunlight poured into the Oval Office, but it suddenly felt very cold.

"Keller. Give me the phone now."

Keller pulled the specially designed cellular device from his pocket and handed it to the President, but not before pushing a very small, very inconspicuous button on the side. President Smith took the phone and scrolled through the contacts.

"Which one of these is Prime's number?"

"Sir?" Keller feigned innocence. Keller thanked Wheel Jack and Ratchet for their foresight. Both mechs knew that President Smith got a bit crazy when things got ugly, and had installed a memory wiping device in case of such situation. As it stood, Prime and his men trusted very few human government officials – Keller, the Lennox's, several soldiers, and strangely enough, Simmons.

"I know you've been in regular contact with Prime, Keller," President Smith said, snapping the phone shut.

"Sir, every single time I've spoken with Prime, it's been on a secure government line," Keller stated. President Smith glared up at Keller, his ice grey eyes boring straight through Keller.

"If you've lied to me, Keller, you've committed treason against the United States of America…and you know what that means, do you?"

Keller nodded, glancing over at the secret service agents in the shadow. Their hands were resting threateningly on their weapons. So this was the game they were going to play. He'd play…for now. As soon as he could, he would see Prime.

For now, he had to let President Smith think he won.

Nightshade paused at the junction of the hallway, looking down both ends. Was she lost? She had followed Emirate's directions to the letter. Nightshade jumped when the lights went out. She shivered and activated her night vision optical software. Nothing but grey lines danced across her vision. Her extraneous software had been disabled. Damn.

Nightshade put one hand against the wall to steady herself and began walking back towards the medical bay. She didn't make it three steps before something slammed into her back. Sharp stinging pain radiated from one of her fuel lines. Then everything went dark once more.

Optimus sat down in his seat in the command center. Ironhide and Ratchet were in the back of the room, organizing a strategy. Prime sighed sadly. Ironhide was only doing this to keep Ratchet's computing center off of Nightshade and little Streak. Ratchet was as good at organizing attack strategies as he was decorating. Then, a soft bell chimed in the monitor beside him. Prime acknowledged the transmission and looked at the identification number.

Emirate.

Optimus let Emirate transmit his message. He watched as the screen flickered to life. Emirate was sitting at the helm of his ship, looking particularly bored. Ratchet and Ironhide leapt to their feet, but Barricade and Prowl were waiting. Both mechs were forcibly disabled and made to sit down.

"Ah, Optimus, sir. I am glad that you are able to speak with me," Emirate all but purred. Half of his body was hidden in inky darkness. The only light shone from a small light above his head. Optimus squinted at him suspiciously.

"Where are Chromia and Nightshade?" Optimus demanded, narrowing his optics.

"Straight to business? Very well. Chromia and Nightshade are in one of my rooms. Both femmes are safe and sound," Emirate said. Optimus's optics narrowed further as he contemplated his next action.

"You have three days to meet my demands or else I will be taking action," Emirate said, shifting slightly in his seat. Optimus could have growled.

"And what are your demands, Emirate?"

"I want safe passage off of this planet. Chromia still belongs to me, Prime. I found a very old copy of The Book of Codes in your medical library, so your revisions are null and void. I also have the original contract that her creators signed. The other femme will be coming with me as well. She has already been instated as CMO of this ship," Emirate said softly, his steely gaze flicking to the back of the room. Ratchet was struggling to get up, but Prowl sat him down once more.

"Is that enough to get both femmes and their sparklings safely?"

Emirate shook his head.

"No, I've already decided that I will be keeping both femmes. Their sparklings are a different matter entirely. I am a very generous mech, Optimus. I'm also a very kind mech. In exchange for their servitude, I spared their sparklings," Emirate said. Optimus was slightly relieved. Ratchet and Ironhide both froze and stared up at the screen.

"And? What else do you want?"

Ratchet and Ironhide gave him an incredulous stare. They expected Prime to be unwavering; they expected him to demand the safe return of both femmes. Optimus must have had a very good reason not to do so, then. Prime was keeping something from both of them.

"I want one of your solar-energon converters as well as two hundred kilograms of your dilithium reserves. After that exchange, I will remain in orbit until Chromia delivers her sparkling. Ironhide and Ratchet may collect their respective sparklings in exactly one year's time," Emirate said, a vicious smirk of triumph crossing his face plates. Prime's gaze only grew more intense.

"And what if we refuse to meet your demands?"

"Ah, the persistent 'what if'. Here's exactly what I will do if you do not meet my demands, Prime: I will kill both sparklings. Once both femmes lose their sparklings, their bonds will be thrown wide open. I will take Chromia as my mate. Nightshade will become one of my consorts. I will go into orbit and use my nuclear weapons to level a few populous cities," Emirate said, his face becoming angry and taut, "And I will make sure that the United Nations and NATO both know that it was your fault for denying my requests."

Optimus knew that he had to tread carefully. If they could neutralize Emirate before the deadline…

"And…I'd rather you meet my demands, Prime, because," Emirate said, trailing off gently. Optimus didn't speak but watched as Emirate swiveled in his chair. He had something in the crook of his arm, something small and grey wrapped in a blanket.

"…I'd rather not be a murderer," Emirate said, shifting the frightened sparkling in the crook of his arm. Ratchet cried out involuntarily. Streak began squirming when he couldn't feel either of his creators. His chirps of distress were more than Ratchet could handle and he leapt out of his seat. All he could think about was the strange mech holding his son. He knew that Nightshade would have fought to the death to keep Streak safe. Where was she now? He couldn't feel her.

He began clawing at Prowl's arms, struggling to get to his son. Emirate shushed Streak gently, tenderly wiping the tear tracks from Streak's face plates with a corner of the blanket. Emirate cooed softly to Streak, but Streak would have none of it. His chirps grew louder and more desperate. Then he sent Prime one triumphant smirk before the screen went black.

Emirate is such a sleaze ball. :3