Sam stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Two nights ago, some kind of Cybertronian probe had come through the space-bridge near Mars. NEST and those in the know in human governments had been on red alert ever since, but the burning question on everyones' mind was what the thing was supposed to do. No one really knew. It was aimed at the sun, though, so the obvious answer was, "Nothing good."

Last night, Optimus had been pulled out of their bond dream half-way through. They'd found each other again for a few minutes before dawn – just long enough for Optimus to explain that both Megatron and Starscream had been sighted in-system and so he was imposing radio silence for everyone related to NEST who wasn't on Diego Garcia, to better hide the human Prime's position. Their bond was the only real channel of communication now between their bases in DC and on Diego Garcia.

Then, six hours ago, something really horrible happened. Sam had no idea what, but it was preceded by a wave of grief over the bond that had left him in tears and was followed by Optimus engaging his battle protocols.

That had been a new experience for Sam. He'd found himself reaching for a shoulder-slung rifle that he'd never carried in his life – he didn't have the necessary hardware. And his face had felt unnervingly exposed without a battle mask. It would have been trippy if he wasn't eaten alive by the anxiety of not knowing what was going on. He'd compulsively scanned the news for any hint, but the world was going on its merry way, talking about political scandals, natural disasters, and sports. With the intensity of Optimus' reaction, he feared something bad had happened to Ultra Magnus.

Beside him, Mikaela's deep, rhythmic breathing was his sole reassurance, since it meant she was comfortable enough to get some real rest. She was still too thin from her first-trimester, morning sickness-caused weight loss, but she'd seemed to rebound during the second trimester. Almost to the day that she finished her seventh month, though, she started getting queasy and pale again. The pregnancy was taking a toll, but she was a trooper through it all. He didn't tell her about the probe or whatever this evening's catastrophe was, though. She was under enough stress as it was.

Over the bond, he curiously nudged Optimus. On one hand, he got why his brother Prime might not be able to power down for a cat nap in the middle of the afternoon (which was the time on DG). On the other hand, they had to be able to communicate sometime.

Finally, finally, Sam felt Optimus drop the battle protocols and his shoulders relaxed. He let Optimus feel his exhaustion, and it was met with Optimus' quintessential peace and wordless apology. Then Sam slipped into slumber.

He found Optimus standing on Diego Garcia's tarmac where the Iron Will had once sat, looking up at the clear, tropical blue of the sky. They were both worried about Ultra Magnus, then. "What happened?" Sam asked.

"I apologize about the delay in going into recharge," Optimus said, hunching his shoulders against the grief. "The crew of the Iron Will have decided to sacrifice their lives in a desperate attempt to save Earth."

"What?" Sam demanded. "How?"

"They are going to use their own energon to…" Optimus took a second to compose himself, carefully locking down his feelings behind a block. "...to turn the engine of the ship into a bomb and detonate it inside the space-bridge's wormhole."

"To stop the Decepticon army Prowl thought was on its way?" Sam asked more gently.

"Yes." He seemed almost emotionless, he'd locked the bond that tightly. "Megatron's scouting party is still en route to Earth, and another dozen Decepticons were sent as a task force to eliminate the Iron Will. My brother is currently fighting his way to the space-bridge so that he may sacrifice his life there for us."

"You found all this out a little more than six hours ago?" Sam guessed.

Optimus bowed his helm, pressed down by the grief he was holding back. "Yes."

"There's gotta be something we can do to help, some way we can save them," Sam began, but Optimus shook his helm, still looking down.

"No. They are too far away, and the situation here on Earth will soon become too desperate. We know now what the probe was designed to do."

"And?"

Optimus lifted his gaze. "It struck Sol about an hour before I went into recharge. Waiting to find out the results was the cause of my delay in recharging. It's going to trigger a coronal mass ejection that will create a solar storm on Earth."

Sam repeated, "A solar storm?"

"A wave of highly-energized particles that will strike and scour Earth's magnetic fields, cracking them open, even. The particles will also pour in through the poles, creating auroras visible at the equator, causing widespread havoc, and damaging infrastructure."

"Like an EMP?" Sam asked.

"Not unlike an EMP," Optimus allowed, "but more destructive. The last time Earth experienced a major solar storm was the Carrington Event in the mid-1800's and it set telegraph lines on fire. Your entire electrical grid isn't just in danger, it's actively a liability now. We anticipate this one will be approximately 80 times stronger."

"Maybe it won't hit us…"

Again, Optimus shook his helm. "This was Starscream's handiwork: cowardly, cruel, and clever. The storm will disable BINDS, leaving us exposed to attack. It will literally burn every unprotected scrap of technology you humans have gleaned from Megatron during his captivity. That's why he's in the scouting party, to watch the world burn."

With a sickened feeling, Sam realized, "It's Megatron's revenge on Earth, on us."

"Yes. The storm will hit us. That's why they came early, to make sure their plans would go off smoothly."

"And for the show," Sam bitterly said.

"And for the show." Optimus grimly added, "Even if Ultra Magnus and the others are successful at shutting down the space-bridge, Megatron will have his revenge. The dozen Decepticons in his wave alone will be a force to be reckoned with, and that's not including any who survive their fight with the Iron Will. We won't know for several hours yet if the space-bridge will survive Ultra Magnus' attack. If he and the rest of the crew do not succeed, BINDS will be down and we'll be facing an overwhelming army of Decepticons, potentially of hundreds of mechs."

"Primus," Sam muttered.

"It is entirely possible that you will end the week as the sole surviving Prime," Optimus solemnly said. "And you must survive, Sam. I will need to focus on preparation and strategy in the coming hours, and I cannot do that if I fear you'll be trying to play the hero."

Sam thought of Mikaela and the baby boy she carried. The baby who might also be a Prime. This was not the kind of circumstance he'd planned on welcoming a child into.

"I need to know you, Mikaela, and the baby are safe," Optimus insisted. "Promise me."

Stricken, Sam asked, "If what you're saying is true, will anywhere be safe?"

"No, but you must remain hidden from the Decepticons. As soon as you wake up, withdraw all the cash you can and make for the refinery in Nevada. Don't use credit cards or cell phones. Sleep in Bumblebee's or Radio Flyer's cabs. Travel by night when Earth-built surveillance equipment is less effective. You're hiding from Soundwave, not your fellow human beings."

"Optimus, what about you…"

"No, Sam. We must face this very-likely reality while we still have time."

Sam shook his head. "No, I mean, what good is a lineage of human Primes if you're gone?"

"The All Spark can choose another Matrix bearer but you, your lineage is truly unique."

Sam didn't feel like now was the time to argue that Optimus was pretty slagging unique himself. Instead he rested his forehead against Optimus' helm. "Love ya, brother."

Sam felt the anguished affection that swelled in Optimus' spark. "I cherish you, too, Sam." Optimus lifted his helm and met Sam's gaze. "We're doing all we can to protect our Earth-based military assets. Anything we can't easily protect with a Faraday cage we are securing in our subspace pockets. We will fight back with all our strength in your defense. I can only hope it will be enough."

A sudden, horrifying thought occurred to Sam. "Will the solar storm fry your circuits, too?"

"Not if we are in cometary form, which we can assume here on Earth."

Sam's shoulders relaxed into relief – at least there was that.

"I need to return to the waking world. As soon as the probe entered our solar system, we took the precaution of issuing an evacuation order. All civilians have left Diego Garcia by boat and are en route to Australia under the pretense of a hurricane drill. Iron Will is overseeing that at the moment, leaving me in charge of military preparations."

Sam half-heartedly smiled. "Thanks for taking the time to check in, then. Meet me whenever you can."

Optimus solemnly nodded and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I hope to join you in a bond-dream again soon." Then he was gone, and Sam swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

…

It was just before breakfast when Ultra Magnus and his crew died. Sam knew because Optimus' grief made Sam's knees buckle on the way to the kitchen table before his brother blocked it. RaFly's holoform, Rebecca Segretti, hurried to his side when he staggered, and he nodded his thanks when she steadied him and helped him into his chair. The 'bots had already made them a breakfast of toast and coffee.

They should be on the road, but he needed to catch his breath. He needed to prepare. They couldn't just run off like they did the day Optimus died. Sam hung his head as those memories washed over him again. They would get it right this time.

Lifting his head, he met Mikaela's worried gaze. "We need to talk. All of us," he added, glancing at Rebecca. She nodded and disappeared, returning to the garage where she and Bumblebee's alt-form were both sheltering. Wheelie was already present and activated his holoform, too. Both Rebecca and Bumblebee's holoform, Cam Romero, appeared in the room a second later.

"What's wrong?" Mikaela demanded. "You've tried to hide it, but you've been a basketcase for the last two days."

"It's…bad," Sam said, staring morosely at the coffee cup in front of him. "Things are looking really bad right now. The crew of the Iron Will are dead."

"Aw hell!" Cam's cell phone quoted. "Slag…it all!"

Rebecca softly said, "We knew it was bad when radio silence was ordered."

"Yeah. They sacrificed themselves to stop the bulk of the Decepticon army from coming through the space-bridge. Hopefully it worked. We'll know soon, probably in a few hours or less. In the meantime, both Megatron and Starscream are still in-system and headed toward Earth with around a dozen Decepticons as backup. Worse, the Decepticons have weaponized the sun. They've triggered a solar flare that's going to disable BINDS, fry our tech, and knock us back to before the electrical grid was a thing, if we're lucky. "

"When?" Mikeala tightly asked.

"Soon. Optimus didn't say. I got the impression it could happen today, even. We've got to go into hiding."

She looked at Rebecca. "Get online and learn everything you can about delivering a baby."

Rebecca curtly nodded, and her eyes grew distant as she began her research.

"What are your orders, captain?" Cam quoted.

"You and I will go cash out at the bank while Mikaela and RaFly pack, and then we head out of town. We have to be long off-grid before the solar storm hits. You all have to weather it in your cometary forms, so that means we have to be out of sight and hunkered down somewhere."

"What about me?" Wheelie demanded.

"Help them pack," Sam said. "Be Mikaela's hands and feet – she needs to conserve her strength right now."

He glanced over at Mikaela, knowing she'd normally protest being coddled, but she had a soft spot for Wheelie, and right now Sam wasn't above being a little manipulative.

Her expression said she saw right through what he was doing, but she turned her attention to Wheelie. "And be my subspace pockets. If I'm not limited to an actual station wagon trunk, our chances of survival jump quite a bit. Begin by subspacing every non-perishable food item you can find in the kitchen. Oh! And then pack up my Autobot medkit."

The holoform disappeared, and the little blue truck rolled toward the pantry.

Mikaela nodded decisively, but she also swallowed hard, and Sam reached across the table to hold her free hand. "We're going to be okay."

"You can't know that, Sam," she answered. "But we will survive. We'll find a way." Her eyes narrowed and her mouth set with grim resolve. "And with any luck, I'll get to rip the spark out of Decepticon before this is over."

He half-smiled. "You're amazing. Will you marry me? And have my babies?"

It was a regular joke between them, and she woodenly gave the usual response, "Sorry, already spoken for."

Sam gave a sharp sigh. "Alright, 'bots, let's roll. We need to be on the road ASAP."

…

Sam had just withdrawn several thousands of dollars in cash from the bank lobby and was on his way back home when Bumblebee turned up the radio. "...astronomers say a major solar flare is forming which could potentially disrupt GPS, cell phones, and other satellite-dependent systems tomorrow. Some areas in Canada and the Northern United States could also see temporary blackouts, and residents are encouraged to prepare accordingly."

Sam didn't even need to strain to sense what his brother was feeling: dread and grim resolve. To Bumblebee, he explained, "Optimus wasn't talking 'temporary power outages,' and his feelings haven't changed, either. The human leaders are sugarcoating it for the masses, to prevent full-on panic."

In answer, 'Bee turned the volume back down and hurried them home.

When Sam walked in the front door, his first thought was that it looked like the place had been robbed. The recliner from the living room was gone, as were the books from every shelf. The TV was still there, though. "Mikaela?"

"In here," she called from the bedroom.

He found her handing off the last of the extra blankets and pillows to Rebecca. The holoform squeezed past him in the hall, sparing him a wan smile and a nod of acknowledgment as she hurried toward the garage and her alt-form with its subspace pockets.

"They mentioned the solar flare on the radio," Sam tersely said. "They're downplaying it for now, but we really should get going, to beat the rush when people realize and start to panic."

"We're ready, mostly," she said, heading in the same direction as Rebecca. She gave a handwritten list to him as she passed. "We'll need to make a quick stop somewhere, when we get the chance."

He looked it over: diapers, wipes, pacifiers, bleach, rubbing alcohol, bottles, formula…

"I thought you wanted to breastfeed," Sam said, looking up.

Mikeala turned and steadily met his gaze. "We're facing the end of the world as we know it. Women died in childbirth all the time before modern medicine. They still do even with all our advances. We can't count on me being around to breastfeed. If I don't make it, we need to be sure the baby still will."

It was a gut-punch, the thought of losing her, on a day when he'd already been pretty bruised.

Turning, she continued toward the garage. "I also had another idea. I know we're under radio silence, but that's because we're afraid Soundwave will be on the lookout for any Autobot signals, right?"

Sam followed her, trying to focus. "Yeah."

"What about walkie-talkies? Usually you'd have to be pretty close to intercept the signal, and there's nothing to distinguish our conversations from the billions of other humans on Earth. Have the 'bots use their holoform names, and we can use our middle names or something, too, to slip past any potential eavesdroppers."

"You are fragging brilliant, you know that?" Sam said, handing the list back to her and opening the door of Bumblebee's altform for her.

She bobbed her head in thanks. "It's how Dad and his brothers would communicate between cars on road trips, back in the day." But her eyes were still tight as she lowered herself into the passenger seat. "Bumblebee, you've got those heavier repair tools, right? Ratchet would be furious if I lost them."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Okay, then. Let's go."

…

They headed west, away from the large population centers, stopping only when Mikaela needed to throw up alongside the road or find a restroom.

It was over the radio that they finally heard when the front edge of the solar storm was due to hit: twelve hours. While the leading edge would hit the other side of the globe, they expected it to last long enough to still impact North America. The news anchors were still downplaying it, but they were starting to emphasize the "major" part of the "major solar storm" that was now headed toward Earth.

Once Sam and the others were surrounded more by the green of rolling hills than by the gray of concrete and steel, Mikaela said, "We should look for someplace to stop and pick up what we need from that list – a back-country grocery store or something. Warehouse clubs and big box stores will be like Black Friday on steroids by now."

"Even if they aren't…small stores will be…lower tech," Bumblebee pointed out.

"Right," Mikaela said. "Find us someplace close. I need to eat."

Twenty miles up the road, Bumblebee pulled into the parking lot of a random Kroger in a town that couldn't have been more than 10,000 people. Mikaela loaded Wheelie (in his base form) into her mama-sized purse and then made a beeline for the bathroom with Rebecca Segretti in tow. In the meantime, Sam started on the shopping list, Cam Romero shadowing him the whole time. He found the baby aisle and filled the cart with several packages of the three smallest sizes of diapers. Even though it wasn't on the list, he grabbed a package of cloth diapers, too. Wipes were right beside them. But when they got to the formula and he thought of having to give a bottle to their baby because he had to bury his wife, he suddenly couldn't see through his swimming eyes. He bolted toward the meat counter, muttering, "I can't do it, 'Bee. I can't."

Cam gave him a bemused look, saw what was next on the list and dove back into that terrible part of the aisle. He emerged a few minutes later and dumped an armload of bottles, brushes, pacifiers, and formula into the cart.

Taking a deep breath, Sam moved on to the cleaning aisle.

They were all gathered at the deli counter ordering lunch when Rebecca suddenly perked up. "James," she said (and it took Sam a second to remember that was his undercover name), "what does 'Mumbarak Eid' mean to you? Mohammed just sent that phrase to me."

"Eid al-Fitr was last week, wasn't it?" Mikaela asked.

They were under radio silence, but al-Sharif had broken it to get that sole message through.

Then it clicked for Sam. "It's not this year's Eid he's talking about." He exchanged a glance with Mikaela, and her eyes widened in understanding.

Three years ago, they'd gone to Dearborn, Michigan with Mohammed al-Sharif to celebrate Eid al-Fitr. He'd been there, along with his parents, his wife Ayesha, and their two boys, Haris and Sufian. The 'bots had been hands-on curious about Islam and he'd graciously invited everyone to his extended family's observance of Ramadan and Eid al-Fitr, and even Optimus had come. Not that his parents, Habib and Anahita al-Sharif, knew that they were hosting alien robots at the time – they just knew the Autobots' holoforms as "friends of Mohammed's from the military" who were seeking greater understanding.

It was July now and blazing hot. When the power went out, so would the air conditioning. They'd never make it to the refinery in Nevada in twelve hours – scratch that, ten and a half now. At legal speeds it would literally take days of driving to get there. But they could make it to Dearborn, and Michigan would be cooler for Mikaela. From there, they could travel by night like Optimus instructed.

"I'll tell you in the car," Sam answered, to be safe.

…

The Kroger didn't have walkie-talkies, but Sam and the others made a point of stopping at small-town hardware stores for Mikaela's bathroom breaks. At only their second stop, they found a place that did carry them. Sam praised Primus, Allah, or whatever deity was watching over them because the walkie-talkies were even the kind you recharged from a base, not with disposable batteries. The 'bots could power them.

He and Cam found Mikaela and Rebecca in the small sporting goods section of the store, where they were looking at one of those pop-up tailgating pavilions with the logo of Sam's alma mater on it. It was one of the nicer ones that could be fully enclosed.

"How is this necessary?" Rebecca doubtfully asked.

Mikaela softly answered, "In less than two months, I'll be delivering a baby in a cave, if we're lucky. Or in your back seats. This looks preferable to either."

"Get it," Rebecca encouraged her.

…

Over the bond, exultation and pride swept through Sam, though it was still carried on a current of grief. He thought he knew why, and he answered Optimus with tempered feelings of congratulations.

"It worked," Sam said, barely loud enough for Mikaela and the 'bots to hear. "I'm just guessing until tonight's dream, but this is the most relieved Optimus has felt in more than two days. I think the sacrifice of the Iron Will stopped the rest of the Decepticons from coming through."

It was the first good news of the day.

…

The sun was setting when they pulled up to the house of al-Sharif's parents. His dad Habib came running out before they could climb out of the cars. He punched in the keypad on the garage door, opening it and saying, "Inside! Go ahead and park inside!"

Sam half-smiled at Mikaela, relieved that the al-Sharifs were expecting them.

Once the 'bots were safely hidden away in the garage, Habib led his guests (both human and holoform) through the house to the living room where his wife, Anahita, greeted Mikaela with outstretched arms. "Come! Sit!" she invited, pointing Mikaela toward the recliner. "What do you need? Ice water? Tea? Something to eat?"

Mikaela weakly smiled and settled into the chair, setting her bag down beside her. "Something sweet to drink, like apple juice or soda, and maybe some crackers?"

"Ginger ale?" Anahita asked. "Vernors?"

"Sounds lovely."

Sam had no idea what 'Vernors' was, but he turned his attention to more important matters. "Mr. al-Sharif, is your son here?"

"No," he answered, concern creeping into his expression. "He called us just before noon and…it was a very strange conversation. He said he loved us and warned us that this solar storm was going to be much worse than it sounded. He told us to prepare against the effects of the storm, and we asked if we would do better to meet him at our cottage on the lake. He said not yet, that we should gather supplies and prepare here, sleep overnight, and then we should go. Ayesha and he will meet us at the cottage later, hopefully within the week. Then we got to the strange part. He firmly admonished us that we should always remember that diyafa – hospitality – is a foundational virtue for all believers. Now I think I understand. He wishes for us to help you."

"We're under radio silence," Sam explained. "I wasn't even allowed to call him and let him know we were leaving town. He must have figured it out on his own."

"He's a smart young man," Habib said proudly.

"And a good friend," Sam earnestly answered. "The best. You raised him well."

Gesturing toward the couch, Habib said, "Sit, make yourselves at home while I put fresh linens on the bed so your wife can rest. Then you will tell me how we can help you."

Stunned by such an open-ended offer in the face of, essentially, an apocalypse, Sam said, "I don't know how I could ever repay you."

"It's not you who keeps that ledger," Habib said, nudging Sam with his elbow almost playfully. "Now rest, and I'll be back in just a moment."

Anahita was still preparing Mikaela's snack and Wheelie furtively said, "Ya think we can trust them?"

"If we can trust al-Sharif, we can trust them," Sam resolutely answered. "And I'd trust him with all our lives."

…

When Mikaela laid down with a weary sigh, she reluctantly said to Sam, "We can't stay here."

"I know. We'll head out to Nevada in the morning."

"No, I mean, if there's a lakeside cottage where we can hunker down and find out just how bad things are going to be, that'll be better. The more remote, the safer." She absentmindedly caressed her baby bump. "And besides, there's water and trees and stuff – natural resources – unlike at the storage facility in Nevada."

He hadn't considered that. During that horrible time they'd been on the run from The Fallen, Bumblebee had just magically produced a seemingly endless supply of food and drink. He was too reliant on the 'bots always having what he needed on hand. But if they were going to be roughing it long-term…

"I'll rest while you iron things out with Anahita and Habib, and once they're packed, wake me up and we'll roll out."

"Okay." Sam kissed her forehead and switched off the light as he returned to the living room. As promised, Habib and Anahita were there, sitting on the loveseat. Habib pointed to the couch. "Now, how can we help you, Sam?"

He sat down and took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "First, I want to make sure you understand what we're up against, what this ask will mean," he said. "This solar storm is going to be bad. It'll knock us back to before the Digital Age and maybe even back to the 1800's. A lot of people are going to die, but it's not a freak of nature. You remember the broadcast by the alien robot a few years back, and the destruction of that pyramid in Egypt?"

Both Habib and Anahita solemnly nodded.

"He was a Decepticon, and the Decepticons are the ones who created this solar storm. They weaponized our sun. But we humans aren't up against the Decepticons by ourselves. We have allies from the same species. They're called the Autobots, and your son and I have been working with them for seven years now."

He looked to Wheelie's holoform. "Show them who you really are."

"You sure, son?" Bumblebee's holoform quoted.

"Read 'em in," Sam grimly said. "If the world doesn't end, I'll deal with the paperwork then."

Wheelie's holoform disappeared, and he crawled out of Mikaela's bag, which was still sitting next to the recliner.

Both Habib and Anahita stiffened, and she grabbed his arm.

"Hiya," Wheelie said.

"Your son called them djinn when he first met them," Sam added. "Or something like djinn. They're robots, but they have free will. Some, like the Decepticons, use that free will to hurt and oppress others, while others are friends to humanity. They're called Autobots."

"Djinn?" Anahita slowly said, tearing her gaze away from Wheelie to look at Sam.

"They usually remain hidden to our eyes, but in plain sight. Show them your alt-form, Wheelie."

"I'm not some stupid circus animal," he grumbled, but he collapsed into his alt and drove in a circle before transforming back.

Eyes wide, both Habib and Anahita looked at Cam Romero and Rebecca Segretti with slightly-overwhelmed expressions. "Are you djinn, too?" Habib asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Autobots, but yes," Rebecca answered.

"I'm a…Chevy Camaro," Cam volunteered.

"And I'm the station wagon. These…" Rebecca gestured to her and Bumblebee's holoforms, "are solid holograms we sometimes use as a kind of puppet when we're interacting with humans."

Wheelie reactivated his holoform, and the two humans jumped.

Anahita looked at Sam. "You have my son battling djinn?"

"Not battling, no."

"He's more of an administrator," Rebecca said. "But his help is invaluable."

"More importantly," Sam pressed, "we have djinn helping us, protecting us. But the Decepticons – the evil ones – will be looking for me, just like last time. This is what you're getting into if you do what Mohammed asked, and I wanted to be fair to you. If you want us to leave right now, we will."

"Mohammed my son or…" Habib began.

Anahita interrupted him, saying something in a language Sam didn't recognize.

Habib turned to meet her gaze and answered in the same language.

She nodded, and he caressed her face once, his smile proud. Looking at Sam, he declared, "My wise wife feels we should offer you our hospitality, and I agree. How can we help you?"

"Faith in humanity…restored!" Cam quoted.

Sam grinned and nodded in agreement. To Habib and Anahita, he said, "You mentioned a cottage by a lake. Tell me more about it."

"It's really just an old 2-bedroom trailer that was on the property when we bought it."

"That's fine," Sam reassured them. "Our original plan was stopping at a rest area and sleeping in the cars."

Habib looked a little disoriented at that for a second and then said, "The trailer is on just under five acres of forested land near one of the interior lakes. And it's a small lake – just an oversized pond, really. Too small for water-skiing. But several of our friends know about it and we'll likely have people join us if things get as bad as you say."

"It sounds perfect," Sam said. "And hopefully some of those people will be Mohammed and Ayesha and their kids. How soon could you be ready to leave?"

"Surely your wife needs to rest," Anahita said.

"She's anxious to get someplace safe before the solar storm hits," Sam answered. "She asked me to wake her up once a decision was made so that we could travel under cover of darkness. One way or another, we need to be on the move."

"We've been preparing ever since Mohammed called us earlier today," Habib said. "The car is packed, since we were planning on leaving in the morning."

"That car won't…run in the morning," Cam pointed out.

"Let's move everything to our cars and head out," Sam said.

"But…aren't your cars already full?" Anahita asked.

"We've got some room still," Rebecca earnestly said. "Trust me."

"We are," Anahita softly answered and then rose to her feet. "Let's go."

As Sam followed them toward the garage, it suddenly occurred to him that al-Sharif's motives might not have been just to help out him and Mikaela. The elder al-Sharifs were now under Autobot protection, too, come what may. He smiled and mentally tipped his hat to his friend, wherever he was.

…

Sam and Mikaela had decided to ride with the al-Sharifs in Radio Flyer, since she had the more-spacious back seat. Even prepared in advance, Habib and Anahita were clearly unnerved when Rebecca Segretti disappeared and RaFly opened all four of her doors in invitation. Sam gave them an encouraging smile and helped Mikaela into the front passenger seat before getting behind the wheel himself.

Habib gave the cottage's address to Bumblebee and, with a deep breath and a nod to Anahita, climbed into the back seat. She was the last to get in and very gently closed the door.

Bumblebee took point.

In the darkness, with a lighter heart and a plan more definite (and hopeful) than "just get the hell out of Dodge," Sam found himself being rocked to sleep by Radio Flyer's driving. He blinked his eyes, trying to stay awake, but a voice in the back of his mind softly said, "Rest, young one."

He knew that voice, but he couldn't quite figure out from where. And with that, he slipped into sleep.

He was in a room on Cybertron – on one of the Autobots' bases. He remembered it from a bond-vision Optimus shared with him forever ago. But it wasn't Optimus who was nodding at him in greeting.

It was Alpha Trion. "Thank you for coming, Samuel."

Sam blinked a couple of times and then snorted in disbelief. "Are you real or just the figment of a very stressed imagination?"

"All Primes are brothers," he reminded Sam. "While I never held the Matrix, in this your hour of need, I have come to your aid as your brother."

Figuring beggars couldn't be choosers, Sam said, "Okay, I'll take whatever help I can get."

"The staff I carried in the realm of the living was an heirloom of my tribe. It was made for Alpha Prime by Solus, and I am his descendent."

"The staff?" Sam stupidly repeated. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It is designed to work with the Matrix of Leadership since it was made for the first Matrix bearer. Optimus now bears the Matrix, and it is his right to wield it in the defense of all who stand with him. It is the Star Saber."

Feeling way out of his depth, Sam repeated, "The staff is a sword?"

Alpha vented a frustrated sigh and, holding out his palm, activated a hologram. It showed the staff at an angle, with the tip held up in the air. Then the hologram displayed the Matrix of Leadership floating up to that tip and sliding down over it, so that it formed the crosspiece of a sword. When it descended to a certain point, it locked into place, and they together transformed into something a whole lot meaner than some old dude's walking stick.

"With this," Alpha Trion continued, "Optimus will be able to protect Earth from the attack that is coming. That is the message you must bear to the realm of the living. Tell him to assemble the saber and go out to engage the storm. If he flies high enough fast enough, Earth will be spared."

"Why didn't you just tell him directly?" Sam asked.

"He is too distraught," Alpha Trion answered, "and his only recharge has been in shared bond visions with you. I could not reach him." Placing a hand on Sam's shoulder and resting his helm against the human's forehead, he said, "Remember what I have told you, Sam. Remember, and find a way to get the message to Optimus. NOW!"

Sam jumped awake and, blinking, looked around to get his bearings. They couldn't use cell phones for this – it'd give away their location. "RaFly! We need to find a payphone or something ASAP!"