This update comes with some unfortunately bad news; I have hit quite a big roadblock when it comes to moving Promise's plot forward. I know what I want to do next and where to take it, but I can't go forward until I get one thing out of the way; starting the Iacon relic treasure hunt. Since the Autobots only find the relic co-ordinates from hacking into the Nemesis mainframe during Flying Mind and I can't really shove that episode in here... it leaves me with quite a creative predicament that I'm still trying to puzzle out.

I do have one idea for a different way of them getting the relic locations but it's not one I'm happy with using unless as an absolute last resort. This is of course my fault for not planning ahead more effectively, but while I try to sort the mess out I doubt there'll be any new chapters coming soon. I'll try and make it up to everyone if and when I finally get this sorted, but until then I can only apologise and ask for your patience.

That being said, I am hopeful that at the same time I might be able to kickstart some other ideas for longform fics I have floating about, which in turn might spark some more inspiration for this story, but I guess we'll just see how it all goes.

xx

Silas had been counting the days silently until this moment, finally free of his bandages and stretching his slowly healing muscles in time with his anticipating heart beats. There were more guards now; four outside his cell and another two who made patrols past at strict two minute intervals. They were expecting him to try a break out. It would have been wiser for them to plan against him breaking in.

The patrol guards passed again, one of them sporting a beard that wasn't there before. One of the stationary guards was on the floor from a strike to the neck from the man next to him before the alarm could be raised, and the others were fumbling for their guns. Not one of them got a shot off before rifle butts cracked down against their skulls, sending all but one sinking to the floor. Three M.E.C.H soldiers against three trained government ones (five, if the patrol put up a fight out of earshot); risky as hell, but then again the whole operation relied on risk. It would have been simpler to just kill the guards, but Silas wasn't in the business of unnecessary casualties. After all, he'd been among them once.

The remaining cell guard produced keys from his belt to unlock the door, and the bearded man wasted no time in a progress report. "We've moved whatever equipment we could from the Nevada base to here, sir. The Nemesis subject is still in the area, and its frequency has been uploaded to the command module."

Silas nodded, expecting as much. "Have the island samples been recovered?"
"Unfortunately, they are secured in a separate building. Going after them would have compromised the overall security of the operation."

Unfortunate, but he wouldn't lose sleep over it. He rose from his bench, clenching healing knuckles and stretching mended bones. "Where is Agent Fowler?" he asked, starting to march out, expecting the others to keep up with him.

The other patrol soldier answered; "He wasn't counted among the subdued agents, sir, but the database logs point towards him being based inside Nemesis' range."

Silas cracked a smile through new plastic teeth as they reached the exit of the cell block. "Then we should let him know about the change in management."

xx

"Something on your processor, Optimus?"

Ratchet caught the Prime staring at June again, fussing over Jack and trying to decipher the source of the bruise on his arm (friendly fights with Miko, no doubt). There was the constant unspoken worry of what Scorpia might mature into, or if she'd even survive to Jack's age. Optimus shook himself, diverting his gaze to somewhere distant.

"When I was... in the captivity of the Decepticons..." he considered carefully, a hand tapping his chin irregularly. "I remember passing by... I was close to her." Even out of hearing range and silent over the humans' game console, Optimus still preferred to not mention her name. "Every time I was near, I felt fluctuations in her electromagnetic field beyond the scope of generator glitches." Just one of the many signs of a carrying femme, which Airachnid must have been for her to have birthed Scorpia so soon afterward.

Ratchet's typing digits paused, and he weighed up his friend's contemplations. "You knew she was carrying from the beginning."

"I didn't register it at the time. I simply followed my orders to decode the database." Optimus meant it more as a statement of fact than an excuse, but even so guilt twinged his spark. "If I had realised it... Primus knows how earlier we could have helped her."

Ratchet chanced a frown, digits still sweeping idly over his keyboard. It was clear he would never share Optimus' feelings about redemption for Decepticons, but for his friend's sake he kept most of the apathy out of the boundaries his low voice. "There was nothing you could do for her, Optimus. She wouldn't have let you help her even if you could."

Only being close to death gave her enough survival instinct to suppress her pride. If Optimus had found her just a day earlier, she may have chased him off with talons flaying his back while her own held Scorpia. Time was always a curious variable.

Optimus didn't know if he was still in Ratchet's attention, but his processor spieled regardless. "If I could sense her... why could no-one else? Surely Knockout at least would have noticed."

The temptation to trump the Decepticon's own medic lured Ratchet in for one last musing. "Techno-organics have never followed the same rules as us. I wouldn't dwell too much over it."

Optimus might have relented to the easiness of that explanation if not for one thing he hadn't mentioned; the swelling of his juvenile spark in her presence, almost gravitating solely towards her. He doubted medicine could have explained anything about it, and was spared from letting it slip by a volley of blips popping up on Ratchet's console.

"Unidentified lifeform sending out a Cybertronian signal." Whatever hundred and one explanations there might have been for it were gone to waste at the beck of Agent Fowler's incoming transmission.

"Prime, have you blown a circuit or something?!"

Optimus was used to the human's bursts of anger, but the static-edged demands manage to throw him off edge. Ratchet himself looked at the screen like it had turned out to be sentient all along, and stepped aside to let Optimus speak to it. "I am confused to your meaning, Agent Fowler."

"Oh, well excuse me for not being clearer, I'm a little busy and confused myself as to why the hell you're trying to run me off the damn road!" Fowler's desperate sarcasm could have been heard from Cybertron, and the other Autobots were starting to migrate to the problem (June herself clamped her hands over Raf's ears, muttering about bad language in the presence of children).

"Sounds like the signal will need some direct investigation," Ratchet muttered, already powering up the Ground Bridge.

"We'll provide backup, Optimus," Arcee offered, gesturing a servo behind her to Bulkhead. "Whatever it is, it sounds like it'll put up a fight."

Optimus nodded. "Very well. Bumblebee, remain here for the children. Ratchet, prepare the medbay for both Cybertronian and human patients." Ever since Rafael's Dark Energon contamination, Ratchet had done well to stock up on Earth's brand of medical supplies. Hopefully they wouldn't be necessary.

Miko glanced over the couch and pulled her headset off, only just noticing no-one had watched her round-winning kill. She swallowed her indignation when she saw the blue glow of blasters. "Get a killstreak for me, Optimus!" she whooped, holding a fist above her head.

"Yeah, kick some clone butt!" Raf rejoiced, still deafened by June's overprotection. Jack made good use of the distraction to sneak back over to Miko's side and take up the second controller.