Chapter 91

-0-The Conference Room, Diego Garcia

They waited quietly, conversation light or non-existent. Prime who was sitting back in his chair with a datapad in his hand didn't look up when Springer returned carrying Nast in the same manner as he'd carried Jaspers. Setting him down none too gently on the table, all optics turned toward the human who sat in shock for a moment before rising to back away as he looked around frantically for escape.

There was none.

"Take a seat, Nast," Prowl said leaning forward on his elbows, his wings flicking in tension. "Now."

Prowl's soft demand, his cool optics and imposing form leaning into Nast's face shook the human out of his torpor. He moved swiftly to sit on the chair.

Prime who was 'fascinated' with his datapad didn't watch, preferring whatever braggadocio Nast brought with him to bleed out under the capable ice cold optics of Prowl.

For a moment it was silent as both sides regarded each other without comment. Then Jazz leaned in to peer at Nast closely. "You should talk to us and tell us everything without leaving out any details, Mr. Nast. Jaspers already told us enough to have you shot for treason by the Americans."

"I'm an American and you can't hold me or treat me like this," Nast said defiantly even as his voice quavered slightly.

"You made me laugh just a little, Mr. Nast. There isn't anything in your law or Constitution that protects you from laws of other nations or sovereign groups. You aren't on American soil. You're in the Autobot Embassy and therefore you only have rights only if we say you do."

He looked at Jazz in disbelief as fear formed on his face. He struggled with the idea that no amount of talk, money or bullshitting was going to get him out of the mess he was in. How could he reach a machine?

"You need to tell us about High Flyer," Jazz continued.

"High Flyer?" Nast asked repeating Jazz in his muddled condition.

Jazz nodded.

Nast sat a moment in an emotional muddle, then with effort gathered himself. He looked at Jazz defiantly. "And if I don't tell you about him or anything or anyone else? What then?"

Prime lowered his datapad to regard Nast levelly. "Then I would be obliged to give you to Springer. Apparently, you find it impossible to believe that we can care about your fear and predicament. You might force me hand on the issue and end our problem with you becoming Springer's punching bag."

Nast startled at the sound of the name. He glanced around, finally spying the green and yellow mech sitting against the wall.

Springer with a humorless smile on his face waved his hand.

Nast shrank back in his chair, turning forward again to look at Prime nervously. "If I tell you what I know what will I get in return?"

It was silent a moment, then Prime leaned slightly forward. "I'll tell my 'bond mate' not to step on you when he takes you back to the brig."

Nast looked back at Springer who was grinning slightly. Then he looked at Prime. "I thought you were supposed to be some kind of upright good guy."

Prime grinned slightly. "You have endangered my family and my people. What would you do in my place?"

Nast stared at him trying to reconcile the commentary of High Flyer, the news cycle and eyewitnesses to the figure before him. He didn't know what to think but he knew that the green and yellow mech sitting quietly against the wall, his blue-eyed gaze never leaving him was no one to fool with. He leaned back in his chair trying to relax even though he had never been more scared in his life. "What do you want to know?"

Jazz smiled.

-0-Sunstreaker

He sat at his duty station on the command deck of Autobot City's Ops Center silently fuming. When they had finished with the refugees, Sideswipe had gone back with Prime to Earth and he was left here to assist in the repatriation of the newcomers. It annoyed him at first although off duty drag races on the plateau were living up to everything he thought they'd be when he'd first come here.

Yet, being here left Sideswipe a clear field with Bluestreak and he could tell when there was something going on when the twin bond was tamped down. He thought about Sideswipe being intimate with Blue, putting their tenuous relationship with Prowl on the line and he was pissed.

He was aware that Sides had gone on a mission and though the jealousy of Sideswipe being in action without him along bothered Sunstreaker, the relaxation afterward with Blue was worse. He'd even teased Sunstreaker about it. Of course, Sunstreaker had gotten even ...

:SIDESWIPE!:

The dampened bond only echoed back to him driving him further into a spiral of anger than if he could've seen and felt what the two were doing. Rolling in a tight circle of impotent rage he paused with a grin.

:Sunstreaker to Prowl:

[A pause, then an answer]

:Prowl here. Sunstreaker?:

:Affirmative. I just wanted you to know that my slaggin' brother is probably putting moves on Bluestreak right now:

[Another pause]

:Really:

:He is. I can feel it. You better go save Bluestreak. We all know what a slagger my brother is:

[A longer pause. The impression of a chuckle] :I will. Prowl out:

Sunstreaker left the door open to Sideswipe as he waited. Then it was back, the intimate connection that the two shared whether they wanted it or not. :SUNSTREAKER! YOU FRAGGER!:

It was all good, Sunstreaker thought, the music of his brother's incoherent rage filtering through him as he made his way to the firing range. :Are you talking to me, Sideswipe? I can't hear you:

The invective grew even louder.

Sunstreaker smiled bigger, a scary prospect to everyone who had to pass him as he want on his way.

-0-Conference Room, Autobot HQ, Diego Garcia

Nast looked at Jazz coolly, finally collecting his composure. "High Flyer? He's a client. Someone who posts on the in-house listserv."

"How did he get on? It's private and closed," Jazz asked.

"I don't know. I don't concern myself with trivial in-house items like that," Nast said folding his arms in front of him as he regarded Jazz with something of his normal arrogance.

"You spoke with High Flyer," Jazz said, "several times. Tell us about that. Who contacted who and what transpired?"

Nast shrugged. "He contacted me on my office phone which is private and heavily encrypted. It was a neat piece of hacking but then he has the money and interest. I'm sure he has the best experts possible working for him."

"Content. Tell us about the content of your calls especially requests, partnership ideas and the like," Jazz persisted.

"He wanted to help me get what I'm paying lobbyists millions for, weapons that you have so that I reverse engineer, make and sell."

"Our treaties forbid us from doing so," Prime said. His own blue optics cast a formidable glare at Nast who leaned back but didn't bow.

"Your treaties don't work here," Nast countered.

Prime leaned forward impaling Nast with his gaze. "Our treaties work everywhere." Prime leaned back.

"Continue," Jazz said, his own disgust evident.

Nast shrugged. "We made arrangements to get weapons because he said he had a pipeline into the Decepticons. I didn't believe him but came around when he sent me pictures of their weapons, real pictures taken of them. I believed him and made arrangements which you and your group interrupted each time."

Jazz nodded, smiling humorously. "Slaggin' right. Tell us about High Flyer."

Nast considered that. "He's strange-sounding and a freak about secrecy. He has the right ideas though. He wants Earth for humans and all of you machines out. He's supported the right candidates and has a lot of investments in media and other businesses. He wants what he wants. And I'm not in disagreement with him."

"What does he want?" Prowl asked quietly.

"World domination. The usual," Nast said. He grinned at the thought of it. "With me at his side, control of the world, its resources and population, the usual thing. The right application of fear, money and rhetoric in the right places by the right people at the right time, maybe aided with an event here and there and it can be done. People are sheep. They'll even follow you when you take their last dime or their last loaf of bread. High Flyer knows that."

"He does, does he," Jazz said quietly.

Nast stared at Jazz, curiosity warring with the studied indifference on his face. "He's my kind of guy. The politics are bullshit but the end goal isn't."

Jazz nodded. "You really are a fragger aren't you, Mr. Nast.

He sat comfortably on his chair with a smirk on his face. "If you say so, robot."

-0-Elsewhere

Bluestreak carried the youngling in his arms to the water's edge and set him down. The others following slowly, fearfully paused just short of the incomprehensible immensity of water the ocean constituted before them.

T-Bar held onto Bluestreak tightly as he looked down at his little peds. He watched as the tide lapping lazily against them. It felt really good so he loosened his hold slightly, smiling up at Bluestreak as he did. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his brothers and Silverbow in a huddle with Hound, Sideswipe and Trailbreaker standing around them protectively.

T-Bar slipped his arm free and allowed Bluestreak to hold his waist as he looked at the water. Reaching down, he touched it with his servo. The warmth of it was surprising to him. Stepped forward, he felt his peds sinking into the sand as the water came in and out around them, the gentle waves carrying away and bringing sand with it each time. He chuckled, a soft sound to the adults who looked at him with delighted surprise.

Rambler dropped Spirit's servo then walked to where T-Bar was standing looking down at his peds to marvel at the sight. He bent down to touch the water looking up at Bluestreak with a smile. Hound who picked up Silverbow walked toward the three to kneel when he reached the water.

Silverbow sat on Hound's knee her, little yellow cup clutched in her hands as she looked at the sea with wonderment. She looked up at Hound who gently set her down on her peds in the water.

Staring at it for a moment, she bent down to put her cup into the water, filling and tipping it so that it ran out. Smiling, she looked up at Hound and Trailbreaker, then chirped. She asked them 'what?', pointing to the water as she did. They looked at her with shock and intense love in their optics. Her delight was theirs as they explained.

As they did, Sideswipe pulled out a pail and some over sized spoons he'd gotten from the N.E.S.T. commissary from his carry hold and set them down in the sand. Spirit who was clinging to his leg let go, then walked to them to pick a spoon. The little mech stared up at him unaware of what came next.

Sideswipe sat down at the water's edge and picked up a spoon. He began filling a bucket with sand. Spirit who watched him sat down, too, and began to help.

They would play together filling and emptying the bucket with water and sand until it was time to step back into the treeline. The adults would transform and the younglings would sit inside for the forty-five minute window that the low level satellites overhead would take before being out of range to photograph them. Then they would return to the sand and water to play quietly until dinner.