Lancer and Arcee took up sparring positions on the training range, and the pink femme said, "The humans have taught me a lot about fighting on Earth. The most important part is to move with the chaos of this world, not against it. I think it's a bit more…elegant than Chromia's approach."

Lancer tilted her helm as Arcee sent a data burst about different human fighting techniques. Her optics widened as she reviewed the information about capoeira. "They learned how to train as warriors even while enslaved?"

"Don't underestimate these squishies," Arcee answered with a smirk. "Ready?"

"I think so. Let's start with tai chi. The whole concept of 'chi' is intriguing."

"Agreed. I've found that energon flow and the fields it creates is a good substitute for the focus on breath." And with that, they began sparring.

They went at it for hours, working through various martial arts styles, Arcee helping Lancer to adapt her frame to the forms. And not once did Arcee even ding her finish. Lancer really did prefer sparring with her.

The shadows were starting to grow long when Arcee finally said, "I've had enough of this grit. I'm ready to get cleaned up. How about you?"

Lancer straightened out of her fighting crouch. "If we hurry, you'll be able to see Bumblebee off."

Arcee shrugged, dusting herself off a bit. "We said our goodbyes this morning." Grinning up at Lancer, she added, "I've been neglecting you, and 'Bee and I both know it. Since you've got a temporary Earth-based altform now, I made a little arrangement with Spitfire, as a thank you for your patience."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's a little goodie we call the Autobot spa treatment."

…

There was an array of bottles, brushes, and even what looked like fabrics beside Spitfire where she stood waiting for the femmes. They rolled to a stop in front of the garage, and as Arcee's holoform climbed off her bike, the Lennox youngling came skipping out the front door to throw her arms around her in a hug. "R.C.! You're here!"

"Hi Spitlet," R.C. laughed, returning the hug. "Oh, and this is my friend, Alana, but she goes by Lancer on base."

The human child glanced at her briefly and nodded. "Hi." Looking back at R.C., she said, "Come see what I painted for you today!"

R.C. looked back to Alana, but she said, "Go ahead. Spitfire can start with me."

"Sounds good," R.C. answered and, taking Spitlet's hand, headed inside.

Alone again with Spitfire, Alana said, "I'm afraid I don't know any protocol for this."

Picking up a sponge and a bucket of soapy water, the human smiled and answered, "There isn't any. Just kick back and enjoy it. Feel free to turn off your holoform, if it'd make the experience better. This is a thank you for you, for all you've done for Arcee and the others over the years, and for coming here now to help."

"Well in that case…" Lancer turned off her holoform, increased her sensory input and relaxed on her axles.

Spitfire chuckled and began using the sponge to slosh soapy water across Lancer's exterior. With a stifled gasp, Lancer damped her sensors again. The wash racks were primarily a gentle beat-down by strips of wet, synthetic cloth and had felt good enough, but this…this was smooth and soft, soothing and refreshing all at once. No wonder Arcee had made a point of dragging Lancer out here for this.

The good scrubbing and rinse-down were bliss, but as the human's deft fingers worked the wax over her surface, Lancer found herself sinking into a deeper relaxation than she'd known since before the start of the War.

Her processors were flooded with the pleasant sensations, and her mind began to drift. The last time she'd felt anywhere near this good was after her last "extended training exercise" with Ultra Magnus. She remembered that brief escape with a wistful fondness. Arcee was right that the mech wasn't…fun. And as both his SIC and a sometimes-mate, she had no illusions that he was perfect or even a substitute for their Prime. But he was honorable and genuine and unrelentingly determined. There was a greatness about him that went all the way to the core of his being, even though he didn't always see it. When her spark had touched his, she'd been overwhelmed by that greatness. Ultra Magnus, indeed! What you saw with that mech was exactly what you got.

Best of all was his single-mindedness. When he put his mind to accomplishing a task, he was unstoppable. In battle, it won him renown from his allies and respect from his enemies. He was no less impressive when it came to matters of the spark.

Her spark recoiled in horror as she again remembered returning from that to an empty base. It was a memory she'd never dared to process before. In her physically-relaxed state, it played out with startling clarity: searching frantically for the others, widening the radius until they found the destroyed abomination of an All Spark, the uncounted Autobot frames drained of their sparks. The area was still crawling with Decepticons who were heaping the empty shells into a pile.

Magnus had seen Elita One on that pile and very nearly gone into berserker mode. It had taken everything she had to talk him down from rushing into the clearing and challenging the 'Cons to a fight to the death. And then the devastating grief that had followed left him all but immobilized. Losing Elita One profoundly shook both of them.

They'd eventually found some surviving Autobots and learned what happened. Discharge, one of her own severed sisters, had been extinguished along with Elita One. Starscream had drained their sparks to power his abominable imitation of an All Spark and used it to spark-forge some kind of lab-creation he called hatchlings.

Those hatchlings had been Magnus' obsession for the two years it took to find and destroy them all. Honestly, Lancer had been grateful for his singlemindedness then, since her own grief had left her weighed down and aimless. Knowing what they did of the Decepticons (and what they now knew about the Cube's corruption), it was likely that Starscream's hatchlings had been deliberately created without free will. Destroying them was the only way to avenge the deaths of Elita One, Discharge, and more than a hundred other Autobots. In Magnus' mind, it was no worse to destroy the hatchlings than it would be to offline Starscream himself. While it wasn't a comfortable thought, Lancer hadn't found it in her spark to actually disagree.

Her severed sisters Strongarm and Javelin were still online when they'd left Cybertron, along with Javelin's creator Vibes, but at this point, they could also be extinguished, for all she knew. Her sorrow at that realization made a mockery of the pleasant sensations from Spitfire buffing off the wax.

"There you go!" Spitfire eventually said, all cheerful. "Relax as long as you like. I'm going to get Annabelle started on homework and then give Arcee a washdown. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Lancer softly answered.

Oblivious, the human went inside.

…

When Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus returned from their beyond-orbit test flight of the Iron Will, Lancer received a summons from Ultra Magnus ordering her to report to Prime's office. It was pushing midnight, and she smiled wistfully to herself as she made her way there. Ultra Magnus was permanently on duty again, just like when they were back on Cybertron. Would Optimus be able to keep up with him when he also had the limitations of the human Prime to take into account? Yes. She didn't even have to think hard to calculate that one in the affirmative.

Magnus was the only one in the room when she arrived, though.

"Commander."

"Lieutenant. We've been tasked with identifying and procuring human-built mining equipment that we can use in outer space."

Lancer vented a soft sigh. "Hopefully such equipment even exists."

"If not, we'll adapt what we can procure."

"Yes, sir. What personnel can we tap to assist us in this?"

"Every Autobot is currently at our disposal, as well as Ratchet's repair team and various human resources beyond that, as needed."

Lancer nodded, already calculating which mechs she'd want assigned to this taskforce. Beachcomber, obviously. Roadbuster and Wheeljack would both be helpful, too. Brawn had a certain hands-on ingenuity that could be useful here, too, even though he wasn't technically an engineer. Perhaps Ironhide or Chromia, mostly because of their familiarity with Earth-made tech and the significant pyrotechnical overlap between mining and munitions.

"And lieutenant?"

She blinked, pulling her processors back to the present and focused on him. "Yes, commander?"

"There's another matter I wished to discuss with you."

She nodded, giving him her undivided attention.

"I wanted you to be aware that I confessed to Prowl about our fraternization."

Lancer's optic ridges rose in surprise. "And you're not in the brig? Has the impossible happened and Prowl's gone soft?"

He shook his helm ever so slightly. "Prowl was unwilling to countermand Elita's exception. However, he did admonish me to follow regulations going forward."

Ah, that's why he was telling her now, to make clear why he would insist on proper military structure in the future. This wouldn't so much change their circumstance as it would change her expectations. It wasn't welcome, but it wasn't unexpected either. "Understood."

"I don't want to leave you in…difficulties, keen spark." With that term of endearment, his entire demeanor changed. "I have a responsibility to you, as well."

Without even thinking about it, her stance relaxed out of a military posture. "I appreciate that, great spark. There's no need to borrow trouble, though. I won't need to burn off any excess spark energy for at least a couple of centuries. For all we know, the War could be over by then and it'll be a moot point. And that's assuming you'd even be interested still."

Lancer was surprised when Ultra Magnus reached out to caress her cheek strut. "I will unquestionably be interested, especially if the War is over. I might even be able to give you the commitment you deserve, assuming you're still interested."

And because she had known his spark, she heard the uncertainty between those words and the well-hidden insecurity that inspired it. Lifting her chin a little, she said, "My spark chose well when it chose you. Commitment or no, I'll be interested."

"In the meantime, our bond remains one of duty," he said, and Lancer fondly remembered that conversation from so many centuries ago now. For Magnus, duty was a form of devotion, of adoration, and his sense of duty encompassed the entire Cybertronian race (even the Decepticons, to a certain extent). That powerful sense of duty was a big part of that greatness she sensed in him, and ever since they'd shared sparks, that idea had colored her perspective a bit, too.

Despite the initial concerns they'd both shared, they'd still been able to very effectively work together because they both were so strongly bound by their sense of duty to the Autobot cause and to their fellow soldiers. "Agreed."

His hand fell to his side, the brief moment slipping away with it. "And for the record, lieutenant, Prowl isn't going soft. He mentioned that there was precedent for leeway on that particular regulation. Optimus wouldn't name names, but I got the feeling that Prowl wasn't particularly happy about going easy on whoever created that precedent or on me."

Suddenly Lancer remembered Arcee's evasiveness that first night when she'd questioned her about Bumblebee, and it all made sense. They were probably the ones who had created that precedent. Being the good sister she was, she'd keep Arcee's secret even from her sometimes-mate. "Understood, commander."

Since she had the rare opportunity of a private conversation with him, Lancer asked, "Do you still believe your dreams about Elita were true visions?"

Ultra Magnus bowed his helm. "Yes, now more than ever. She's been active in Samuel's dreams, too."

Lancer's spark damped, and she vented a slow sigh, focusing on the strategic implications rather than the personal ones. "Then we need to remain in a posture of war, which means a full crew every time we take the ship up. Also, we've got both Wheeljack and Roadbuster here; we need to arm the Iron Will."

Ultra Magnus lifted his helm and, meeting her gaze, slowly nodded. "Agreed. Proceed in whichever way you deem most efficient, lieutenant. But we need the Iron Will armed and outfitted for mining as quickly as possible. Any questions?"

"None at this time, commander."

"Very well, then, lieutenant. Dismissed."

…

The next morning, the vehicles they'd requested for scanning finally arrived. Lancer had gone with a Dodge Charger like Prowl for her alt-mode, since she had also been an Enforcer back in the day, but she had requested an upgrade to this year's model. (Prowl hadn't bothered to update his look since his arrival five years ago.) The strong, sleek lines of the design made her smile, and she happily scanned the car, adjusting the color to her preferred olive green.

Like Beachcomber, Ultra Magnus had been content with an altform based on a vehicle already on Diego Garcia and had scanned an armored troop transport just a few days after making planetfall. Cliffjumper had straight-up scanned 'Bee before Samuel Prime left so that the two of them could match. Roadbuster, Blurr, and Windcharger had also gone with various sports cars: Roadbuster chose a Chevy Impala SS, Blurr a Honda CRX, and Windcharger went old-school with a Pontiac Firebird Trans Am.

Inferno and Firestar decided to go with matching red paint, though she added her usual flame-theme; he had scanned one of the NEST hazmat fire trucks while she had waited so she could scan a two-door Ford F450 flatbed truck.

Kup had gone with something a bit less specialized and had opted for a Ford F350 with a crew cab. Bulkhead was bigger in his Humvee alt-mode, but Brawn was smaller with his Jeep Renegade alt.

Blaster was the only one who didn't have a vehicle-based alt-mode. Instead, he'd opted for a JBL Partybox. (The humans had seemed very excited that the model Blaster scanned was apparently staying with NEST.)

As Lancer took in the sight of her fellow crewmates, she felt for the first time like they were Earth-based Autobots now. The planet wasn't exactly home, but it was a haven, and it was theirs.

…

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Arcee said, nudging Lancer with her elbow.

Since Lancer was sitting at a console in a corner of the Autobot hangar, she had to look up to meet Arcee's gaze with a doubtful one of her own. "Celebrating a monk is fun?"

"It's not really about Saint Patrick," Arcee tried to explain. "It's…everyone's Irish on Saint Patrick's. Even you! You're green every day of the year." When that didn't get the desired reaction, Arcee added, "It's a celebration of inclusivity and Irish culture."

"How could celebrating the religious colonization of an island on the other side of the globe possibly be fun?" Lancer snarked back.

Arcee crossed her arms. "You're beginning to sound like Prowl. What is wrong with you?"

In the depths of her spark, Lancer knew what was wrong, but she didn't dare admit it even to herself. "I'm just…busy. I got the analysis for the Iron Will's prototype missile arrays just this morning."

"What if I said Ultra Magnus was going to be there?"

"Then I'd know you were lying about the 'fun' part," Lancer muttered.

"Okay, well what if it was just us femmes? You, me, Chromia, Firestar, and Spitfire?"

That made her pause. "Will Spitfire's youngling be there?"

Arcee hesitated, and Lancer looked up to meet her gaze again. The pink femme's helm was tilted in puzzlement. "Do you want her there?"

Lancer focused on the console in front of her again. "Not exactly. Doesn't St. Patrick's involve intoxication?"

"We can conscript Ironhide to take Iron Will and Spitlet out on a daddy-daughter date," Arcee said. "Are you in?"

"Sure."

…

Lancer's holoform managed about half an hour of the St. Patrick's Day party before she made an excuse to go outside. Trying to get away from the laughter, she headed down to the seashore and found a shady spot under a palm tree where the waves were louder than the femmes she'd left behind.

Everyone was just so…so happy. It made the scars on her spark ache as she instinctively tried to reach out to sisters who were extinguished. When her spark was met by the jagged edges of shattered bonds, those memories about Starscream's All Spark would swarm her processor. And those memories made her spark ache and reach out for kin yet again. It was a feedback loop, a potentially dangerous one.

A patch that Inferno had developed long ago would allow her to quarantine the memory, locking it away like it had never happened with just a summary to bridge the gaps, and that would interrupt the feedback loop. But it would do nothing for the shattered bonds, and if she ever did need to access the memory, the feedback loop would start right up again. Still, it was better than what she was going through now.

"There you are!" Spitfire cheerfully said behind her.

Sighing and retrieving a moderately-happy smile from the holoform library, she answered, "Hello, Spitfire."

"A bit loud for you back there?"

"A bit…close."

"Yeah, it's a pretty small living room." Spitfire sank down to sit cross-legged beside her in the sand. For a long moment, they sat in silence, watching the waves wash up onto the beach and then retreat back into the ocean. Eventually, Spitfire added, "You know, the other femmes visit when they're off-duty. You're welcome to come out to the house anytime, too. I enjoy the company."

"I'm a bit higher up in the chain of command," Lancer pointed out. "I don't get as much time off-duty."

Spitfire reached out, resting her hand on top of Lancer's, and the femme looked over into the human's intent gaze. "It's different here on Earth. Better, and not just because you're away from the War. Things are changing, even for you Autobots. I've seen it already. Get used to having a bit more hope and joy."

It unsettled Lancer that this alien could see into her spark so clearly. She'd thought only Arcee could do that without a bond. But there was something about Spitfire, about this mother who had claimed the Autobots as her own. She softly said, "That's hard to do when I have severed kin starving on Cybertron right now."

An expression lit Spitfire's face – understanding, according to the holoform library. "Optimus and the others know. And they're trying to figure out a way to make things right. That much I'm sure of. But there's no reason to suffer when you can't help them."

Lancer huffed and looked out over the ocean again, pulling her hand away from Spitfire's. "My suffering is a companionship – the bitter bread we break together, even at this great distance. It's the only thing I can do for them."

Spitfire let those words hang in the air for a long moment. Finally she said, "I don't know you very well, Lancer, but I do know Arcee. And if she was the one stuck on Cybertron and you were here, I don't think for a second that she'd want you hurting."

Slag it! Lancer hunched her shoulders, knowing Spitfire was 100% right. "...Your logic is excellent. I wish my spark would listen."

Spitfire rested her hands in her lap. "I can understand that, too. Just hang on to that logic in your memory banks until your spark is ready. And the offer still stands, no matter what mood you're in."

When Lancer didn't respond to that for several seconds, Spitfire stood to leave.

But abruptly, Lancer didn't want her to. Not yet. She didn't want Spitfire thinking that Lancer was upset with her. "Arcee was right. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't experienced it."

Spitfire paused and looked down with a slight smile. "I'm sorry, what?"

"On Cybertron, parenthood is a rare thing and therefore precious. Fathers and mothers have a reputation – deserved or not – for being exceptionally wise. Since your species only has one way to reproduce, I thought… I guess I thought human mothers would be more… common, less profound. But you… you impress me, Sarah Lennox. I've been a creator, too, but not like you."

Her smile broadened. "I expect you're underrating yourself."

"In some ways, you vaguely remind me of a civilian Elita One."

Spitfire's eyes widened. "Okay, now you're overrating me."

Lancer found herself smiling despite her rotten mood. "You're going to have to trust me on this one, human."

"Well... you're very kind. Thank you. Come join us at the house again when you're ready." And with that, Spitfire left.

…

After they were back on base, Arcee said, "I'm due for a shift in the med bay. Join me?"

Though technically it was a question, Lancer knew Arcee well enough to hear the irritation in her voice, and she also knew the pink femme wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. "Sure," Lancer resignedly agreed.

After Ratchet left and they were alone, Arcee crossed her arms and glared at Lancer. "Care to explain what happened tonight?"

Lancer lounged against a repair berth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about the fact that you're working circles around Prowl! And when I finally pry you away for some fun, you run off! Don't tell me you've got a problem with the fleshlings."

"Oh, so I'm the one with a problem?" Lancer challenged, glaring at Arcee. "You're the one who's forgotten everyone!"

Arcee rocked back like she'd been struck. "I haven't forgotten."

"Yes, you have. If you remembered them, you wouldn't be letting the local fauna wax your aft. You'd be busting that aft trying to get energon to your fading sisters!"

"Do you think I haven't?!" Arcee exclaimed. "Do you know where that kind of thinking leads? I do. I found out the hard way, and the feedback loop fragging near burned out my processors." She sat down next to Lancer, putting an arm around her hunched shoulders. "You know better, too. I know you do. You were the one who talked some sense into me after Moonracer died and made me upload the patch. Grief is a demon that can devour you. You said that to me."

Lancer grimaced and looked down. "And the sister of grief is worry. I'm sorry, Arcee. I can't, though. Our sisters are starving for energon, and we have hope now, real hope that we haven't had for more than 10,000 years. But Megatron…he's still coming. He'll crush that hope if he can, for us and for those we left behind."

Arcee tilted her helm, trying to catch Lancer's optic. "What do you mean he's still coming? BINDS drove those Seekers off, and they'll tell him Earth is even better defended."

Lancer frankly met her gaze. "He's too invested materially in the coming attack. He's…" She looked down again, shaking her helm. "BINDS isn't going to stop him. At best, it'll slow him down, make him delay the assault until whatever he's putting together is big and bad enough to overwhelm the satellites. He won't launch the assault until he's relatively certain he can do that, but once he's got that, he will attack Earth. And when he comes, everything you're building here – all the friendships and alliances and happiness – everything will be shattered unless I can find a way to stop him first."

"Unless you can find a way? So it's you versus Megatron now?"

Lancer vented a sigh. "Essentially…yes."

"Lancer…"

Her hands balled into fists. "We can't let that happen. The empty shells we had to drain just to get here… If Earth falls to the Decepticons, it'll all have been in vain. We all came here prepared to make any and every sacrifice necessary, and none of the data I've seen so far makes me change that conclusion."

Arcee rose to her feet and extended a servo to her. "Come here."

Lancer's shoulders drooped as she looked at that servo . "I'm not overwhelmed by grief."

"Come here."

Venting a sigh, Lancer took Arcee's servo and let the pink femme drag her up to standing. Pulling her one-time sister close, Arcee opened her armor enough to align with Lancer. The larger femme also opened up enough to sense the comfort Arcee was offering. Aligning sparks couldn't replace their lost sister-bond, but it was better than nothing.

"Earth is different," Arcee insisted, willing Lancer to understand. "I fell here and was called back from the Well. Maybe it's the reformatting of the All Spark into the Matrix of Leadership that makes the difference. I don't know for sure. All I know is that there has been a turning of the tide here."

Dread filled Lancer and seeped into the weak connection they shared. /That's not what Elita said./

Arcee was confused, though. /What are you talking about? Elita died before we even knew the Matrix of Leadership was on Earth./

/Don't tell anyone else, but…Ultra Magnus has had visions of her. She told him to come here, that it was his fate to be extinguished in Optimus' defense. She said if we didn't, all would be lost./

/Magnus had visions?/

/I know it sounds crazy, but that's what he believes, and after all we've seen here, I've come to believe it too. We have the Matrix of Leadership again, and from that, we know Optimus is a true Prime. We've recovered the All Spark. We have fresh energon. Before we left Cybertron, I didn't understand how anything on this far-flung base could be worth our lives, but now…I would follow Magnus even into the Well if it meant protecting what you have here./

Despite how weak their connection was, Arcee clearly felt what her severed sister didn't dare to say aloud. /You're committed to him./

/More than is wise, certainly,/ she wryly answered. /I'm not sure if I'm committed to him as my commander or as my mate. It's all weirdly mixed up now. When I first brought up courting him, Magnus protested there was a reason for the regulations against mates being in the same chain of command, and I understand that better now. But regardless, if he falls here fighting for Optimus like Elita asked him to, he won't be entering the Well of All Sparks alone. I felt that resolve even before we came here, but now, with all we've seen, I think any one of us from the Iron Will would do the same./

Arcee slowly vented a sigh. "Listen, I need you to trust me on this. Everything is going to work out, whether Megatron attacks or not. We're twice as strong now because of you all. We can contend with whatever the Decepticons send."

"I'd like nothing more than to be able to believe that…"

"Then spend a little more time with Sarah and the other humans. Learn more about Earth." With grim humor, she added, "If you're going to join Ultra Magnus in a fight to the death against Megatron, you might as well enjoy yourself in the meantime. And Spitfire's cheesecake should be at the top of your bucket list."

"My what?"