Megatronus stood over his fallen opponent. "Mecha of Kaon," he said. "This orn is an orn of arrival!"

The crowd had anticipated this. They cheered at the end of his sentence, but quieted quickly, because they wanted to hear what he was going to say next During his past six matches, he had told stories about the mines, and stories about the gladiator arena. He had told them the truth. The guards had beat him, the supervisors had threatened him, and Casurus had brought him within an inch of his life, but he hadn't stopped. He had told them everything.

If they really wanted to stop him, they could stop scheduling matches for him. They hadn't done that, though, because as time went on, they came closer and closer to selling out on seats.

This orn, every seat was full. Some of them came to watch the fight, but quite a few were here to listen to him talk.

They tried not to let anyone record his words, but someone always managed to do so, and then they distributed what he had said all over Kaon.

"I have told you about the mines!"

They cheered, but it was angry cheering because they knew now what the mines were.

"I have told you about the pits! I have told you about the slavery, the injustice, the energon of the innocent that flows through the tunnels beneath this city. These things should not be, and someone must answer for them!"

The crowd cheered.

"Someone must answer for the death! Someone must answer for the suffering! Someone must answer for the friends you have lost and the friends I have lost!"

The roar drowned him, then faded again, because they wanted more. They didn't just want empty words.

"We have pleaded with Iacon to help us but they are cowards!"

There was a cheer.

"We have sent to the Council, but they sit on their thrones and refuse to hear! We will continue to remind them, but eventually, their window of opportunity to step in will close, and we will take this city on our own! We are strong enough!"

Megatronus could not see it, but he could imagine the discussions going on at this very moment between the supervisors, and the guards, planning to drag him out of the ring, planning on how to punish him once this speech was over. He would need to wrap it up quickly or they'd come out here with their energon prods.

"I will need you to be strong enough! Strong enough to stand and fight with your fellow mecha, to fight for your friends and your sparklings and their sparklings, so that when they reach adulthood, this city will be free! That orn will come! That orn will come!"

They had spread a rumor that this time would be different. That he wouldn't be telling them a story this time. That this time, he would be saying more, that he would be calling them to action.

The doors opened and several guards came out, but Megatronus was finished. He turned and walked back toward the doors, toward the hallway within, toward whatever they'd decided to do with him this time. He had just declared war on them, openly and unashamedly. But they were making so much credit off of him, they wouldn't want to kill him. That was a thin ledge to stand on, but someone had to do it, and Megatronus had never been afraid.

The guards encircled him. He was surrounded by energon prods and hostile, worried faceplates. He walked calmly among them. His speech would be distributed. His words would reach thousands of audio receptors. They would know that the rebellion was beginning. Soon, the world would know that this was beginning.

If they killed him, it was likely it would end before anything happened, but they stood to gain a lot of credit if they waited just a few more matches to offline him.

Just a few more matches, he was certain they were telling themselves. Hopefully, they would keep telling themselves that, and he could continue to speak.

They took him to his room, and forced him over to his berth. A couple of medics came in, and it took all of Megatronus's self control to lie down and let them magnetize him to the berth. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he imagined it would be painful. The guards backed up and stood by the walls, and then they waited.

A few breems later, a mech came in, followed by several more guards. Megatronus knew him, though they had never met. It was Clench himself.

"Ah, here's our little star," he said. "Megatronus, how are you?"

"Magnetized to a berth," Megatronus said.

Clench laughed. "Oh, you're great, Casurus said you had quite a bit of spark. I like that about you, you know I really do like that about you. Just one little thing, though." He came over to the berth and smiled down at Megatronus. "We can't have some sort of foolish uprising. If you get a little group of civilians to come and attack us, it could cost us millions in property damage. Now, I don't mind it so much if you tone it down a little. Mecha love hope. They'll pay quite nicely to come to a match and hear someone give a pretty speech that makes them feel all empowered and everything, but inciting riots is not a good thing. So, I'll give you a chance, see. If you want to keep giving your pretty little speeches you can, but nothing like how violent that one just now was. That was a little over the top, mech."

Megatronus looked at him, and Clench met his optics for a moment, still smiling, then looked away and spoke again.

"So I want your word you won't do something like that again. Oh, and I also need to know who you've been in contact with in the city. Oh, and your energon hall privileges are gone until further notice. So, first item of business, your word."

Megatronus nodded. "I give you my word I won't give any more speeches like that."

He felt no need to tell the truth to this murderer.

"Second, designations. I need the designations of your contacts in the city, the mecha who spread your propaganda around."

Megatronus made up some completely fake designations. Clench seemed surprised that he'd sell his conspirators out so quickly, but sent some of the guards to go make a list and hunt these mecha down. Megatronus hoped that no mecha with those names actually lived in Kaon.

"Well, that was easy," he said. "If you're telling the truth that is, which I don't believe you are. Hmmm… next orn, if I find out you were lying about those designations, you'll be fighting another match. Oh, one final thing I forgot!" He grinned. "You've fallen out of favor with me, my mech. I think it's time to make that official. See you next orn out in the ring." He turned and walked away, humming to himself.

Megatronus realized what he had been talking about a few moments after the door closed behind him.

The medics approached. Megatronus fought to keep his venting calm and peaceful. He shuttered his optics, and felt something pierce the plating around his neck. They injected something into him that paralyzed him, and shut down his voice box. He wished they'd put him into stasis, but they didn't.

Searing pain split his faceplate, and he wanted to fight, to scream, but he couldn't do anything. There was no outlet for the pain, just pain—rivers of it. He could feel energon dripping down the side of his helm, and down his throat, but couldn't move, or swallow or choke.

He couldn't scream.

If you fell out of favor with the mecha in charge, they cut up your faceplate. They made it symmetrical, decorative-looking. Megatronus had heard guards express jealousy over the patterns on one or two of the gladiators' faceplates, talking about how it must take serious bearings to get your face decorated like that, and how good it looked.

They must not have been told what it meant, or how they did it with you conscious. Megatronus hadn't known they'd do it with him conscious.

When they were finally done, they unmagnetized him from the berth, but he was still paralyzed. He heard all of them leave his room, even the guards.

Then he was alone, and he still couldn't move, and couldn't scream.

It took joors for whatever it was they had injected him with to wear off. By then, he wasn't in quite so much pain. He got up and stumbled to the door, where he had a small mirror. His face was covered in drying energon. He reached up to touch it, wincing as a section of it shifted under his fingers. It hurt like pit, no matter what he did with his pain grid.

So he went back to his berth and lay down to plan, and eventually to recharge. They were going to let him fight again the next orn. It was meant to be a punishment, but it wouldn't be. Megatronus could fight through the pain without much trouble. And his condition would make the speech after the battle even more meaningful.

If they thought this would stop him, they were very wrong.

Megatronus had one pede resting on the dead beast in front of him. Energon flowed freely from his side, and one of his arms. He was exhausted. They had pitted him against three trained cats, and he was badly damaged.

"Mecha!" he shouted, venting hard, and trembling. He was glad that his voice was still strong. "Last orn was an arrival. We arrived at the beginning. This orn is about remembering! It is only by remembering that we will be strong enough to press forward! We have been hurt! We have been oppressed! We have been exhausted. We have fallen, over and over again." He felt energon dripping down his faceplate, and every time he moved his mouth, he felt things crack and shift as the motion disrupted his self-repair.

"We have been stolen from. We have been treated like so much scrap. We have been murdered and we have been threatened. We have been afraid! We have seen others punished for what we know we must do! But that does not excuse us from standing up. We must get up again, and again, and again. As long as we are alive, we must get up. No matter what they take from us…" He could feel part of his faceplate sliding out of place, and he reached up to push it back, shaking with pain. He looked down, dizzy, and nearly stumbled, but raised his helm again quickly, cursing the brief weakness he had shown. Weakness was not something he could afford to have.

"My mecha, we know that we should have a right to freedom, a right to safety. No one should have to live the way you live. And we can change things! It begins with remembering. Remembering your friends and family, your fallen loved ones. You fight for them, because they would have wanted a better end for you, and for your creations because you want a better end for them."

They cheered. Megatronus smiled up at them and raised a hand. "It may be long in coming, but we can endure until then. And when the time comes, we will rise together. I will do all I can to see that orn."

He lowered his hand, and turned around to walk out of the arena. The guards were waiting for him again when he came in the doors. This time, as soon as they closed, he let himself collapse. They had to carry him to his room.

He lay on his berth, leaking out on the ground, waiting for a medic to come and repair him. It was a very long time, and he was nearly in stasis by then. The medic magnetized him to the berth and worked on him with that same bored expression that most of them held. Sometimes, Megatronus wondered if the medics were really just drones with faceplates.

He had heard that most medics weren't like this.

When the medic was done, Megatronus slipped into a deep stasis-like recharge for a while.

When he woke, there was a cube of energon on the small table by the door, and the door was locked.

Well, at least they hadn't killed him. He drank the energon and sat on his berth.

His room was a little better furnished than it had been at the beginning. He had gotten a small mirror, and a table. When a gladiator died, all of his belongings were divided among the others. Most of the time, Megatronus didn't care. But he had at least wanted a table, and one of his friends had grabbed a mirror for him. Mirrors were reasonably rare. Springer probably had the biggest one.

Megatronus needed to go to the wash racks. Because he didn't have paint, energon corroded his armor, and at he was covered in half-dried energon.

But he could wait. It was starting to itch, but not badly enough that it was distracting. Clench had said he had lost his energon hall privileges, but that was all right. He only needed to get in contact with his mechs once in a while. And he didn't think Clench knew how deep dissention ran through the ranks of the guards and gladiators here. Many of his friends were on his side too, though they all pretended to think he was completely crazy.

Eventually, after more than an orn, they came for him and took him to the training arena, where Casurus and Springer were working with one of the newer gladiators who showed promise. The mech seemed terrified, even though he was holding his own pretty well against Springer. That was what set Megatronus apart from the others. Maybe it was because he'd started in the mines. But then again, there were others who had started in the mines. None of them were fearless like he was. Maybe it was something from before, back when he couldn't remember.

He didn't think about that blankness much any more, or wonder where he came from. He'd decided that it didn't matter.

"All right," Casurus said. "Back to his room, we've got bigger cats to chase. Come here, Megsie."

Megatronus approached them.

"Oh, slaaaag," Springer said. "Megs, are you ok?"

Megatronus walked over to them.

"So," Casurus said. "You're decided on all this rebellion nonsense."

Megatronus nodded.

"Well then I'll stay out of it. Destiny's a glitch, isn't it?"

Megatronus frowned at him, but Casurus turned and laughed. "Don't look at me like that, mechling. Beat him up for me, will you, Springer?"

They both watched him go, and then were left alone in the arena.

"You need the wash racks," Springer said. "Come on."

The guards looked like they thought they should argue, but didn't want to get in Springer's way.

They let the two gladiators pass.

Springer chatted with the other mecha at the wash racks while Megatronus got all of the energon off of him. It was too painful to clean out the cracks in his faceplate, but other than that, he got himself clean. Then he followed Springer back to the training arena.

"Ok," Springer said. "So, are you really crazy, or just stupid?"

"Just crazy, I hope," Megatronus said. "You once told me my only way out of here was to have good connections out there."

Springer shook his helm.

"You know, I've invited you to join me before."

"I know you have. And I have absolutely refused, because it's madness, Megatronus. Even if this goes somewhere, the only thing you'll accomplish is to get a bunch of poor, innocent mecha killed. Is that what you want?"

"Poor innocent mecha are getting killed," Megatronus said.

"That doesn't mean you should encourage it."

"I am trying to stop it."

Springer vented a sigh. "Maybe you're right, but I don't know… your answer's no. Casurus would probably kill me."

"He's the crazy one."

"Tell me about it," Springer said. "But I think he's just… I don't know, as messed up by all of this as we are. We're all messed up. This place does that to you."

"Did he used to be a gladiator?"

"Who, Casurus?" Springer said. "I don't know, probably. In any case, I'm not sparring with you right now, you look like you're about ready to pass out."

"I'm all right," Megatronus said, getting into a fighting stance.

"You sure?"

Megatronus nodded, and rushed the other mech.

Megatronus's door opened. He was a little confused, because he had a match in a joor. There was no reason to come for him right now.

A large enough group of guards to contain him came in, along with a medic.

It had been two decaorns since his faceplate had been torn up, and he'd only fought one match since the one right after that incident. He hadn't given much of a speech then. This time, though, he was planning to speak powerfully again.

"Get him on the berth," the medic said.

"I have a fight in a joor," Megatronus said.

"I know," the medic said coldly. The guards backed him over to the berth. He sat down, and they pushed him down flat. He didn't struggle, because he knew it was pointless.

The medic magnetized him to the berth, then got out a scalpel. He felt the blade slip in between the plating on his neck and cut some of it away. It hurt, but he kept from crying out.

Then he realized what was happening.

"Wait!" he shouted. "Don't…" his voice cut out in sparks and static. He tried to scream as there was a burning, wrenching pain in his neck, and then the medic was holding a small device in his hand.

And Megatronus couldn't speak any more.

The medic set the plating around his neck back in order, and they let him up.

He couldn't speak.

There was no way to make his mecha understand. They would think that he had given up, that he'd finally been broken. They would be wrong, but it would destroy the tentative trust he'd been earning from them.

Yet, there was nothing he could do. The medic and the guards left, and Megatronus got off of the berth and started pacing. Slag it, he should have thought of this. Of course this could happen. It was the most logical thing to do. If they didn't want him to talk, they could just take that ability away.

He tried, but it was like picking something up with a missing arm. He didn't have his voice box anymore.

He racked his processor to come up with a way to communicate with the audience without speaking, but could think of nothing.

Then they came for him.

They took him down the halls, and out to the anteroom that led out into the arena. There was another medic waiting there for him.

"Megatronus," he said. "Someone sent you this." He gestured to a box behind him. "Would you like me to install it before the match? If not, it can wait until after."

Megatronus couldn't ask what it was, but the medic bent down and opened the box to show him. It was an enormous gun. An arm cannon.

Megatronus hesitated, then nodded. It was a powerful weapon. He hadn't trained with it, but unless he was fighting someone very good it wouldn't matter.

The medic attached it to his arm. He tested it, trying to find a new center of balance as he waited for the doors to open.

He was ready when they did, or he thought he was ready. He stepped out into the ring. There, his opponent was waiting for him.

It was Springer.

A flicker of fear—just a flicker—danced for a moment in his core, but he banished it quickly and didn't hesitate as he approached.

Springer was not afraid either. He had a hard look in his optics and Megatronus knew the other mech wasn't going to go easy on him.

Megatronus heard the door slam shut behind him, signifying the beginning of the match. He and Springer circled each other. His new arm cannon probably wasn't going to help him here. If he could get up close and shoot quickly, he might be able do some damage, but by then, Springer was likely to have taken his helm off.

Instead, he slid his integrated blade out. Springer mirrored him, then attacked.

Megatronus defended himself, and the audience watched, quiet and tense. Springer hadn't lost in almost two vorns. He had the longest running record of wins in the history of the gladiator pits. They had thrown everything they had at him, and he had defeated it. Megatronus hadn't known what he was talking about when he'd made a goal of being able to beat him. He'd been fooled by the fact that Casurus was better than Springer. Springer was the best of the best.

Megatronus was almost evenly matched with him. But right now, he was certainly not in top form. He had an extra weight on one arm, and he'd just had something ripped out of his neck.

Springer forced him to the ground again and again, and Megatronus kept getting up. The crowd gasped and cheered and shouted, but for the first time in a long time, Megatronus wasn't in control of them. As the fight progressed, he fell further and further behind, until finally, Springer's blade slipped past his defenses, and Megatronus felt it penetrate his armor, slice through wiring and systems deep within his frame, and come out his back. The green gladiator shoved him to the ground and Megatronus lay still while Springer stood above him and the crowd cheered.

It hadn't been a fatal strike, and he wasn't afraid Springer would kill him, but he hated losing. Still… maybe it was better this way. He wouldn't be able to speak in any case.

He looked up at the sky above him.

No.

Springer pulled the blade out of Megatronus, and offered him an almost apologetic look before turning and walking away.

Megatronus waited for his back to be fully turned, and then slid his arm along the ground and fired the gun.

His blast hit the back of Springer's pede. Springer shouted and stumbled, and Megatronus got up, heedless of his glitching systems and the pool of energon he had left behind.

Springer turned, angry now, and Megatronus engaged him again. He found that stillness that let him balance, and filled it with the fire that Casurus's training had given him.

Springer answered with precision, strength and speed.

But Megatronus would never lie down and die. If he offlined, he would offline standing.

He stumbled once more, but then put his blade through Springer's shoulder, then through a place in his chassis that was close enough to his spark chamber to be dangerous. Springer fell to the ground, leaking heavily, and shaking with the effort of trying to get back to his pedes. He looked up and Megatronus met his optics and saw betrayal in them.

Megatronus raised his gun to point at Springer's faceplate. Springer didn't flinch, but Megatronus just smirked, then turned around and walked to the very center of the arena. The crowd waited for a speech, expectant, but Megatronus couldn't give them one. He raised his arm and shot into the air three times. Each time, the blast hit the energy shield over the arena and made a pattern of light across the invisible, but impassable surface. They could see it flash when he shot at it—that dome that let nothing in or out.

He was in an invisible cage.

When the light from the blasts had faded out, he left the arena. The crowd cheered behind him. He had defeated Springer. The greatest gladiator, possibly in the history of Kaon, had been defeated.

They could do whatever they wanted to Megatronus. They could take his freedom, or his voice, or anything else, and it wouldn't matter. If they took away his legs, he'd still find a means of getting up again.