It seemed that after almost thirteen Vorns of letting them be and work in peace, the universe wanted to throw them as many curve balls in as short a time period as possible. He came one deca-orn after Jazz's decision to stay and about one and a half deca-orns before the day they had chosen to take the Tagan Heights. There was no notice, no warning, and the first Verasuvius and Ricochet heard of it was when their border patrol radioed in that there was a seeker contingent heading for the capitol, e.t.a. one joor. Both commanders were there to greet the group of twenty as they transformed and landed in the large courtyard outside the main fortress.

"Lord Starscream." Verasuvius greeted, and she bowed low, as tradition dictated. "It is an honor."

"Yes, yes, you can get up now." The Decepticon commander waved at her dismissively, looking both irritated and pleased with the short hail.

"If I may ask, what brings you to my humble province without an announcement?" the femme asked, straightening but keeping her wings and gaze respectfully lowered.

"Surprise inspection, is that a problem?" Starscream sneered down at her.

"Not at all, my Lord. What would you like to see first?"

"The weapons facility."

"Ah, and may I ask, my Lord, how long you intend to stay?"

"Until I want to leave." Starscream snapped back. "Can we get on with this?"

The dark femme nodded. "Of course, my Lord. Right this way." Vera gestured behind herself to the door, bowing slightly again, and then turned to her first lieutenant. "Ricochet, deal with anything that comes up while I show our illustrious commander around, and have suitable quarters prepared for him and his company."

Ricochet saluted and hurried off, trying to keep his frame relaxed.

~0~

/This is where we mold the metal./ The noise in the factory was deafening. Everybody had given up talking out loud around the huge machinery ages ago. /It runs all cycle every cycle except once every three deca-cycles when we shut down one half and then the other half of it for maintenance and upgrades./ The Province Commander explained as she led the small group along the catwalks above the working floor. Heat rolled around them in waves as molten metal was poured into the molds. /We produce over 3,000 tons of weapons and ammunition in half a deca-cycle, assuming none of the machinery needs non-routine maintenance. Research and Development have their own smaller production facility next door./ she gestured in the right direction. /Large artillery is constructed in the right wing,/ she gestured again, /standard issues and mid-size in the left wing,/ another wave of her hand, /and anything explosive is made in the building directly North of this one./

/How come they're separated?/ Skywarp asked as he curiously watched the work being done.

Verasuvius smirked. /We had…an incident. This is much safer for everybody and the machinery./ the black femme turned to the Decepticon commander. /Any questions, my Lord?/

Starscream studied the production lines critically. /I want output increased by 20%. How soon can you accomplish that?/

/Output for everything or something in particular?/ She asked, pursing her lips.

/Everything./ The larger seeker turned to regard her narrowly.

Verasuvius hesitated. /I would have to check with my engineers, but I expect, based on our previous success and current capabilities, that it would take roughly three quarters of a vorn./

/Then you have a quarter./ Starscream retorted, turning away and heading off toward something he saw that interested him.

Verasuvius followed, trying to appeal to the Commander's more scientific side. /Lord Starscream, with all due respect, you must understand that there are limitations to how hard we can push the machines and how fast we can upgrade them while maintaining production at any level, a quarter vorn is an extremely enterprising deadline—/

Starscream whirled around, backhanding the femme heavily across the face. She stumbled back in shock, her hand flying to the new dent.

/Are you questioning my orders, femme?/ Starscream growled dangerously.

Verasuvius dropped her gaze and wings submissively. /No, my Lord./

/Good./ the larger seeker nodded. /You have a quarter of a vorn. Now show me this R&D you mentioned./

The Tagan Heights Province Manager quickly complied, leading the group forward and out of the building.

From the production floor where he was checking with the shift manager for any issues, Ricochet watched them go with optics narrowed to hateful slits, but the expression dropped as soon as he turned back to the mech he had been talking to.

~0~

They went through almost every facility in the Tagan Heights, and everywhere they went Starscream either had no comment to make or some criticism for the Province Manager. He demanded more of every production line, and Verasuvius promised it with optics lowered, for fear that he would recognize the lack of respect in them if she looked at him. Eventually the day was over, but it felt like an eternity. Ricochet saved her from having to escort Starscream and his entourage to their quarters by citing a problem in the explosives facility that required her attention, and she escaped the other seekers gratefully.

The problem wasn't a fabrication, but once it had been dealt with Verasuvius retired immediately to her quarters while Ricochet finished the last bit of work he had left over.

When he stepped through the door to her quarters, it took him a moment to locate the femme. She was sitting on the far side of one of the data-cases, helm resting against the smooth metal and optics offline while her hands worked over a rough crystal formation, molding it into an interesting geometric shape and revealing the swirling colors within it. When Jazz walked over, visor slipping down, and crouched in front of her, she on-lined her optics but kept the left side of her face turned toward the data-case.

She half-smiled tiredly at him. "I hope your day wasn't as horrible as mine." She said.

Jazz's grim frown didn't let up as he shifted into a kneeling position and reached out. "Let me see it."

Star sighed, but let him turn her head and gently run his thumb over the damage, giving him another half-smile since any movement on that side of her face hurt. "News travels fast, eh?"

"Actually, I didn' hear anybody talkin' 'bout it all cycle. Guess everybody's too scared to." The red and black mech shrugged.

She turned to look at him straight on, smile turning down. "Then how did you know?"

"I saw the whole thing." He admitted, keeping her face cupped in both hands. "How come y'didn' go to th'med-bay?"

"I'm waiting for it to pop out on its own. I don't know why it's taking so long." She cycled out another deep vent, shuttering her optics for a second, and then reached up and wrapped a hand around his wrist, meeting his gaze again. "How are you doing?" she asked quietly.

The saboteur grunted, pulling back to step over her legs, settling against the wall beside her. "No better'n you, I imagine. What's the game plan?"

"Hah." Star let out a short laugh. "Warn Thunderous that Scream and Warp are here, and then wait."

"Wait? That's it?" Jazz complained, and then canted a glance at the dark femme, leaning closer and lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Sure we can't try something else while he's here?"

"If you're suggesting what I think you are, the answer is a resounding no. Don't even go there, Jazz. Him being here is dangerous enough on its own; I already found three different monitoring devices in here today, if something… untoward were to happen while he was in our province, the slag would hit the fan big time. We just need to wait, and be patient. The universe rewards those who are patient."

Jazz pouted, slouching down. "Fine, but if he hits you again, I'm not gonna be held responsible for my actions."

Star chuckled. "That's sweet, Jazz, but I think I'll be okay." There was a pop and crackle and she hummed, reaching up to touch her cheek. "There we go. Thank you."

Jazz cocked his helm. "Me? What'd I do?"

She turned to smile fully at him, the scrapes fading away. "You helped me feel better."

"Oh." Jazz smiled back a little. "Then you're welcome."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, and slowly Star relaxed and let her optics offline. It had been a long, trying day for both of them, but Jazz stayed alert, waiting for her to slip into a secure recharge. When she had been completely still for several minutes and her energy signature was the right frequency, he rolled silently to his knees and froze, waiting for any indication that she had woken, and then got to his feet and left, grateful that the elevator was so quiet.

He tried to go back to his quarters and recharge as well, but his processor was running in angry circles, working him up into a rage every time he came back to Starscream. He could list a million reasons why he hated that seeker more than any other creature on the face of Cybertron, or in the whole universe for that matter, and no matter how many times he pulled himself away from that train of thought, he always came back to it.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore, and he rolled off his berth and started pacing the room. He would stop for a moment each time at the far wall and reach up as if to touch it before pulling his hand away and striding back to his berth, clenching his jaw and fists in frustration. Then he made the mistake of letting himself think about what had probably happened to Prowl, not to mention the twins, and that Starscream had most likely had a hand in it. A very direct hand.

He stopped in front of the wall and glared at it angrily before slapping his hand on the primary pressure pad and touching the others in the right order. He stepped back as the wall began to move, sliding back and folding out to reveal a small armory, chock full of both normal and not-so-normal weapons, as well as many items of indeterminate use. It was several of the last that Jazz chose, as well as a very sharp blade that he folded into his gauntlet armor. When he had armed himself properly, the wall shifted back into itself and hid the cache while Jazz headed for the door.

"Sorry, Star. I just can't let this go." He muttered, and then slipped out into the dark hall.

~0~

Not a single camera saw him. He knew every blind spot, every detour, and every shortcut. It was the second half of the off cycle and the halls were mostly empty. Nobody saw the assassin creeping through the shadows, silent and nearly invisible. It took him only ten breems to get across the base to his target's quarters, and only half a breem longer to disable the alarms. He started to manually slide the door open on its slicked track, slipping the blade out of his arm again. Someone grabbed him from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck and lifting him off his feet. They pushed the door closed while Jazz struggled wildly, and then drug the smaller mech into the shadows. Energy vibrated through both chassis for a moment, and with a quiet pop they were gone.

Jazz twisted as soon as he registered solid matter beneath his feet again, hooking his foot behind his captor's leg and jerking to take him down. He lashed out with the knife and felt it slice into armor with a satisfying shick. The mech did fall, but seemed to recognize this sequence and did some twisting of his own, grabbing Jazz's knife hand and pushing it away as he drug the Autobot with him. The saboteur ended up on the bottom, crushed between the other's chassis and the hard floor. As the arm tightened around his throat, cutting off the energon flow to his processors, error warnings started flashing across his vision. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, he thought with some panic.

The pressure eased off and he gasped for air to cool his systems, shaking his head to clear it.

"I'll have you know Skywarp was half a breem from catching you." Star hissed into his audio.

Jazz froze for a moment, and then started squirming again. Star sat up and let him scramble away. "Slaggit, femme, I was this close to killing him!" he accused.

"No, you were this close to getting killed, Jazz, I told you no!" she snapped back. He realized, now that he wasn't pinned to the floor, that they were in her quarters again.

"You don't know that!" he snarled, storming past her toward the elevator, but she got in the way, blocking him.

"No, I feel it. I want him dead, too, but it is not the time or place to kill any of them."

He dodged around her, but she was faster as always and grabbed his shoulders to spin him around and slam him against the wall, holding him still.

"You will die if you try again!" she yelled, then picked him up and shook him a bit. "Do you understand me Jazz?! You will die!" They glared at each other for a moment, neither of them moving. The next instant she was hugging him fiercely. "You're everything I have here, Jazz. I can't lose you too. I won't let you die, I need you to live." She whispered.

That sucked the fire and the anger right out of him and he relaxed with a sigh, dropping his head onto her shoulder. "Alright, fine, you win. Just put me down now."

Star hesitated for a moment, and then gently set the saboteur on his feet. Jazz pouted at the floor and they stood there awkwardly for a moment. He glared up at her reproachfully.

"I thought you were Skywarp for a minute there. When did y'get so heavy?"

The femme smiled wanly, her crimson optics really the only thing visible in the dark room. "I can suspend my mass in subspace or increase my gravitational pull as I see fit. I'm as heavy or light as I want to be."

Jazz snorted. "Figures. Why wouldn't you be able to?" Star shrugged and the saboteur gave a long-suffering sigh, as if to say 'see how unfair life is with you around?' She chuckled a bit. "So, can I go back t'my room? I'm kinda tired." He admitted.

"No, I think you're staying here for the rest of the night." Star said, turning and starting toward the inner berthroom.

"Aw, come on, dontcha trust me?"

"For some reason, no. Besides, you camp out here overnight all the time, it shouldn't be a problem. I'll see you in the morning." She disappeared into her berthroom and Jazz sighed again before trudging over to sit on one of the couches and deposit all his assassin gear on the short table, including the knife. Star's quarters were the safest place on base, possibly in the whole of Cybertron, and the only place he'd ever managed to recharge deeply since It happened, and especially since becoming Ricochet. Living on a base of Decepticons could do that to you.

He rubbed his face tiredly, staring at the blade and still wishing it was coated with Starscream's energon. "One day, Scream." He vowed quietly. "One day I'll see you burn for that. For Prowl, and for everyone and everything else."

Then he laid down, still studying the clean knife, and within a few breems had slipped into recharge.

~0~

Two orns later and several provinces away, Thunderous Prime sat in his temporary quarters at their current temporary base, sifting through datapads listlessly. He'd had no idea how exhausting it was to be a rebel. He would probably never see this room again since tomorrow they would be moving to a new location, trying to keep the Decepticons off their tail. Nothing was solid here, the places and faces and names always changing, everything dangerous, nothing safe. They never stopped running, unless they were fighting. And they always ended up running from that, too.

They had been underground now for… he sighed when the number was not forthcoming. Way too long, he decided. Not even the Matrix could completely numb his programmed need for open sky and supersonic speeds. He was almost tempted to go out and start something just to get a taste of fresh air, but that would be foolish. And dangerous, he could almost hear Red Alert complain.

The Prime sighed again, and sent a reproachful thought at the Matrix and those residing within it. Why did you pick me again? He wondered, but his tone was tired, lacking any real resentment. He'd given up being resentful a long time ago. The Matrix didn't answer, because he already knew what they would say. They'd told him about three times already.

Because you were ready and willing. Because they need you.

He idly started to read a report on one of the datapads, another supplies strike that actually went well, for once. The next two, not so much. It was depressing and frustrating, and coupled with his pent up seeker base programming he was understandably a little irritable when there was a brisk knock at his door.

"What?" he wondered, trying not to sound as upset as he felt. The door opened to admit Red Alert, thankfully with only one datapad in hand. He rethought that before the mech had even opened his mouth, though. One datapad usually meant trouble or disaster, and the security director's expression only confirmed that deduction. Joy.

He held up The Pad, one of the super heavily encrypted pads that only a handful of mecha in the whole of Cybertron could unlock, one of the pads that went back and forth from the Heights, and said, "We need to talk."

Dread gripped the Prime, and he somehow knew where this was going before Red Alert sealed the deal.

"It's about Starscream."