I'd spoken at press conferences before. I'd made TV appearances. I testified before Congressional committees for my day job. I even had a good speechwriter on staff, and though she'd raised her eyebrows when I'd given her this assignment, she delivered quality material like usual. There was absolutely no reason for me to be tossing and turning my way toward two in the morning.

Except that I'd never done anything remotely like this before. Thanks to the Decepticons' raid on Diego Garcia, we had to work with an accelerated timetable in getting the Autobots their own country here. Tomorrow, we'd take the plunge and go public on Earth.

There was going to be a 10:00 am press conference and everything. I was going to announce that I had assisted them in deceiving the world for almost two decades. Everyone would know I'd helped them buy the South Pacific island renamed New Archon, that I helped negotiate New Archon's independence, and that New Archon was a colony and base for alien walking weapons. I would relinquish my US citizenship, declare myself a citizen of New Archon, upgrade my role from lobbyist to New Archon spokesperson, and notify the world that we intended to ultimately seek admittance in the United Nations.

(Ironically, the one island native who had remained on New Archon would legally become its sole resident alien. That would not be part of the press conference.)

After that, the 'bots would all upstage me by transforming for the livestream. The forecast was for clear skies and reasonably-warm temperatures for late January in Virginia, so all this would happen outdoors in front of one of our solar power plants.

Assuming that didn't send the reporters diving for cover, we would then take questions. That's where my thoughts kind of scattered into various nightmare scenarios.

Why in the name of all that's holy did I agree to this?

It's not like the whole thing was as crazy as it sounded, I tried to console myself. Wheeljack's highly-experimental mostly-functional prototype "ground-bridge" was basically a space-bridge that worked on a planetary scale instead of a galactic one, and we'd have one of the portals on the island. New Archon would most likely have access to anything we wanted from the States, with enough patience.

Right now, we could send inanimate objects through, and usually the 'bridge was stable enough that everything came through intact. Every now and then, though, it still scrambled packages. (Even though they were inanimate, it was a pretty disturbing sight when that happened, or so I heard.) We weren't ready for 'bots to travel through it yet, and we had no idea if something organic even could survive a trip through a ground-bridge. Ratchet said theoretically we should, though, if the wormhole field was stable enough. The problem was, as Wheeljack put it, our planet was as squishy as we humans were and the metal core's chaotic movements kept destabilizing the field.

But if Wheeljack could get it right, we'd be able to instantly travel from portal to portal. To start, at least, we were setting those portals up in three different places (Diego Garcia, New Archon, and the Autobot tower here in Arlington). Wheeljack had offered to try out a more open-ended design that would only require a portal on one end, so we could 'bridge to any destination we wanted. I'd put my foot down as Prime and forbade him from creating a wandering wormhole on Earth. I'd only allow a portal-to-portal ground-bridge, just like the space-bridges, and not through the planet's core.

Where had I been going with this? Oh yes, not quite as crazy as it sounded. Mikaela was retaining her US citizenship, so she was my geopolitical safety net. (And doesn't that sound romantic!) The kids were both keeping their US citizenship, too, at least for now. At Annabelle's insistence, I warned Daemon and Beatrice tonight (well, technically last night) that there might be some rumors about me after the press conference, and I wanted them to hear the facts from me first: part of my job involved working with aliens.

The kids had all but exploded with questions, but all I could really tell them was that part of my job meant working with aliens. They weren't at all satisfied when they went to bed, but at least they were prepared for what their fellow students might say. (Thankfully, their teachers worked with ambassadors' kids every day and knew to keep any discussion of their parents' political activities out of the classroom). We were all still bound by treaty to a certain level of secrecy, and honestly, I wanted to shelter my kids as much as possible from the downsides of having Autobots on Earth.

Mine was the only neck I was willing to put on the line. Fortunately, it was really only on the line on paper. It's not like Decepticons would actively be shooting at me this time.

For a moment, my imagination ducked down the rabbit hole of what would happen if they crashed the press conference.

A glimmer of light shone through my eyelids, and I opened them to see my cell phone on the nightstand, its screen lit up. With a sigh I reached for it and read the text from Optimus. /Sam, why did you not join me in our bond dream?/

The C-17 flying him in for the press conference was still just a smidge too far away for him to hear my thoughts, which was probably just as well. /Can't sleep. My nerves are jangling./

Across our brother bond, his peace washed over me, deep and irresistible. He didn't often turn the full brunt of his will and emotions loose on his kin, but I was grateful for it this time. My shoulders grew limp, my ears popped as my jaw relaxed, and I felt kind of dizzy as exhaustion replaced my anxiety. I'm pretty sure I put my phone back down before my eyelids fluttered closed and I finally, finally drifted off to sleep.

Optimus was on New Archon in his dream, and I gratefully lifted my face to the relaxing, tropical sun.

"Better?" he asked.

I opened my eyes and looked into his laughing optics. "Better."

He nodded, and we started to idly stroll along the shore. It was all but uninhabited even before we bought it out, since there wasn't a regular source of fresh water here and so many of its natural resources had already been pillaged. We'd looked at some of the Line Islands, but they'd been too muddy for the 'bots, and besides, they were uninhabited nature preserves already. Optimus was very keen on helping at least some of the humans who were being made refugees by climate change.

"This is probably the most expensive piece of property on Earth," I said.

"By more than three times," he confirmed, with no little satisfaction.

I smiled, knowing he was far happier about creating a future for the former residents of this patch of ground than he would have been about getting a deal.

Embarrassed a bit that I'd kept him waiting, I asked, "Are you at all nervous about tomorrow?"

"Yes."

I blinked in surprise and glanced his way.

"As you are well aware, Earth is not the first inhabited planet we've encountered, and many of them fared no better than this," he waved his arm at the inland part of the island, "before we left. Several worlds saw their inhabitants destroyed."

Like all those decimated islands we'd looked at. "That won't happen to Earth."

"So I hope. But by announcing our presence to the world, we will cause turmoil at best."

"You're invested this time," I pointed out. "You're kin. You're sticking around to help us sort it out. It'll turn out better than those other worlds."

"Do you believe your fellow humans will take the news calmly?"

I snorted, remembering some of my imagined, anxiety-driven worst-case scenarios. Under the influence of my brother Prime's serenity, they looked pretty ridiculous now. "I never said they'd take it calmly. I just don't think anyone's going to pull a bazooka on you in the morning. Or on anyone else. Enough people in power have known about you for long enough that the people with access to nukes aren't going to freak."

"I'm more concerned about long-term consequences."

The current of wry teasing across the bond underscored just how long-term the 'bots thought. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, in a thousand years from now, my great-grandkids will be dead and gone, so I'm not going to sweat it."

He emotionally recoiled from that a bit, so I added, "It'll be okay because you'll be around to help. Give us half a generation, and no one will think twice about you strolling down the street in your base-form."

"Assuming the War is over."

Yeah, a 'bot walking through Mission City would still cause a reaction right now, and the battle there was almost two decades ago. I slowly sighed and mentally nudged him in agreement. "Assuming the War is over." Giving a half-smile, I asked, "Is your speech all written?"

"I haven't actually written a speech in more than 13,000 years."

I snorted at that. "What are you going to say, 'I am Optimus Prime. Any questions?'"

His amusement rolled over the bond, and he tilted his helm. "That could work."

...

I woke up to Mikaela's fingertips caressing my forehead.

"Morning, beautiful," I murmured.

"Good morning," she answered.

"If you say so."

"Rough night?" she asked, cuddling closer, and I wrapped her up in my arms.

"Yeah."

"You slept through the alarm."

That one was Optimus' fault, but I wasn't going to say as much. Out the window, the sky lightened from January-black to pale gray, but I was still in no hurry to get up.

Eventually Mikaela said, "You know, we're not quite twenty years into this instead of fifty, but looking back on my life, I'm still glad I got in the car. For what it's worth."

"You're amazing. You know that?"

She laughed softly. "Says the man who's going to rock the world in three hours."

Her words were like a shot of adrenaline and suddenly I was wide awake. "Ugh, don't remind me."

She chuckled again and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Come on, you, let's get you some breakfast."

I reached out and caught her hand. "Thank you."

With a smirk over her shoulder, she said, "Happy to be your emergency access to a green card."

"No, I mean it." I held her gaze, willing her to understand how much I meant this. "I could not do this without you."

She sobered, studying me for a second before leaning over to give me an earnest kiss that let me feel she understood.

Against my lips, she whispered, "Now get up!" And then she slipped away from me.

With a groan, I got out of bed.

Despite me sleeping in a bit, we arrived a half-hour early to the solar panel factory in Virginia where we were going to hold the press conference. The 'bots, some in-the-know humans, and I were gathered in the employee lot around back, staying out of sight for the moment. Mikaela ran a comb through my hair, had me read my statement one more time for her, and then kissed me good luck.

Lennox watched all this with a little smirk that said it was hilarious but he had decades of experience not sniggering in front of superiors. He was in civilian clothes because he was currently on personal leave. Normally he'd be with Sarah somewhere in the Pacific or Indian Ocean, helping the Autobots relocate from DG to New Archon, but we all wanted him here for this. Still he would not be standing with me in front of the cameras today. Today was about independence, about the Autobots stepping into genuine and full partnership with humanity. If it looked like the US military was holding any puppet-strings, that whole goal could backfire. He did, however, shake my hand and wish me luck before following Mikaela out.

Then it was just me and my 'bots.

They sat silently in the building's rear parking lot, and I suddenly hoped that today would mean good things for them, too. No more needing to hide. No more being pushed to the shadows and swept under the rug. Reassurance poured in over my kin bonds, and I took a moment to breathe it in, letting their confidence strengthen me. By the time Hound and Trailbreaker returned (minus my kids), I was as ready as I was ever going to be.

Just a few more minutes. Time for me to cut through the building and greet the assembled reporters out front. A plain-clothes Al-Sharif was waiting in the atrium by the front door, and a look of relief crossed his features. "Two minutes, sir."

I glanced out front but could only see a handful of reporters. "How many did we get?"

"Five."

I looked at him sharply. "That's it?"

He shrugged. "It's a busy news day. The details of what we're announcing today aren't going out in the press release until this afternoon. We have our usual tech correspondents from a couple major news outlets, plus Green Tech Daily, the local newspaper, and Mr. Fassbinder."

I sighed at that last one. "Who is he freelancing for today?"

"I think my assistant said it was for a tech blog."

It didn't really matter, I decided. I blew out my breath and pasted on a smile. "Is the livestream up?"

"Ready when you are."

I looked into the camera that would broadcast all this on my own social media properties, too. "Hey, everyone. So a little backstage view, here, but I guarantee this isn't going to disappoint. C'mon, let's go!"

Al-Sharif followed me out into the sunlight and secured his camera on the reserved tripod. I took my place at the podium.

"Hello and welcome," I read as the teleprompter started scrolling. I was so focused on getting the words right, and reading them in a steady, confident tone, that I didn't even notice until I'd finished my speech that the Autobots had driven around the building to the front parking lot and were waiting patiently for their cue away at the back of the lot. Judging by the way everyone was still looking at me, nobody else had noticed them, either. Stealthy 'bots.

"At this time," I said, pointing to my friends and kin, "I'd like to introduce you to the Autobots."

They started rolling forward, and after the bombshell I'd just dropped on the reporters, you could see them kind of cringe as it sank in just what they were seeing driving toward them. Except Fassbinder, of course. My former college roommate had already met the 'bots years ago and had kept their secrets all this time, despite the conspiracy blog he still contributed to. I wasn't sure if he had figured out what today was really about or not before he came, but his were the questions I was most worried about. The Autobots kept a wide berth around the reporters as they got closer, though, and transformed to stride up to my side.

Once they were settled in, my brother said. "I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. Any questions?"

I wanted to facepalm, but silence rang for only a second or two before every reporter there started shouting.

Optimus pointed to one of them and said, "You, in the blue jacket with the brown hair." (Thankfully not Fassbinder.)

"What do you want from Earth?"

"We wish to become your friends and allies. We understand that such friendship requires trust, and that takes time to build. That process began 20 years ago with Sam, but now we wish to be even more inclusive."

"So...nothing at all in the way of resources, rulership, anything? Just 'I come in peace?'"

"Our intentions toward Earth are peaceful, despite the cliche. We wish to take nothing that isn't willingly offered. For example, we paid a price for New Archon that far exceeded its market value. You'll also find that the companies we are involved in compensate their employees at or above industry norms."

"What is your connection to the 2009 terrorist attack?" the local newspaper reporter shouted, and Optimus let him get away with it.

In answer, my brother said, "20,000 years ago, a mech whom we call The Fallen tried to destroy Earth for personal gain. My ancestors stopped him. He returned to finish the job in 2009, and this time I stopped him, at great personal cost and with the critical assistance of my fellow Autobots and our human allies."

"How do you reproduce?" Fassbinder shouted.

Optimus ignored him and gestured toward the woman from CNN. "You in the red blouse."

"How many aliens are on the planet?"

"All of the Autobots here on Earth stand before you." Optimus gestured toward his 'bots, and they all nodded or waved as he said their names. "Their designations are Bumblebee, Ironhide, Chromia, Arcee, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Prowl, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Jolt, Evac, Hound, Trailbreaker, Radio Flyer, Mirage, Skids, Mudflap, Tracks, Bluestreak and Wheelie. We are the citizens of New Archon."

"What about the other ones – the ones you and your ancestors stopped?" the CNN lady asked.

"The Fallen was extinguished. There are others, the Decepticons, who oppose us, but we have done our best to keep the entire planet free of them. There are none who are active on Earth at this time."

"Have you ever abducted and/or probed any humans?" Fassbinder called out at the same time that the guy from Green Tech Daily asked, "Where did you come from?"

Thankfully, Optimus took the second question. "From a distant world called Cybertron. It is very different from Earth and is composed primarily of metal. We traveled here using a combination of spacecraft, artificial wormholes called space-bridges, and our own, personal propulsion."

"What do you eat?" Fassbinder tried again. "Do you ever fart?" The other reporters started stepping away from him. I wasn't sure if that was because they hoped to disassociate with him so they'd get called on or because they were afraid of whatever arsenal might be aimed at him.

"You mentioned you're involved with other companies," the guy in the blue jacket asked. "What companies are they? How are you involved?"

While Optimus started in on our vast tech empire, I glanced over to notice 'Bee's wings were quivering with barely-contained laughter. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were both grinning, Skids and Mudflap were elbowing each other whenever a giggle broke through, and Hound and Trailbreaker were pretty amused, too. Apparently they thought Fassbinder taunting the boss-bot was hysterical.

I nudged 'Bee over our kinbond. Promise me you'll intervene before Optimus swings Fassbinder around by his ankles on live TV.

Are you kidding? Bumblebee teased back. If he was mad enough to do that, he'd swing me around by my ankles if I tried to intervene. Intervening on behalf of mostly-innocent humans is a job for a Prime.

I mentally sighed. Coward.

Eventually Optimus finished with the explanation of how a bunch of humans had helped them make our own economy more green, and Fassbinder asked, "For the fembots, do you ever think the tractor's sexy?"

Arcee cracked slightly, snorting a laugh, while the other four reporters did a pretty good job of sucking all the oxygen out of the parking lot. "Fembots?" the local newspaper reporter breathed.

I never really understood why people could accept the whole alien robot thing but mentally stuttered on the idea of female Autobots.

"Everyone who uses 'she/her' pronouns, please raise your hand," I said. Arcee, Chromia, and Radio Flyer responded.

"What...I mean, why…?" the guy from Green Tech Daily couldn't quite articulate his question.

"We all have the same hardware," Chromia matter-of-factly said, "some of us just have different software."

"And seriously, Fassbinder," Arcee added, "lay off. Some of us are trying to be professional here."

"You know him?" the guy from Green Tech Daily asked.

"Oh yeah," Fassbinder jauntily answered. "We go way back."

Now I got it. He was trying to drum up attention for his blog – and showing off for the mainstream media he'd made fun of all these years. It wasn't enough to scoop them; he also had to thumb his nose at the whole process.

"Any other questions?" Prowl preemptively intervened.

"Why are you here?" the woman from CNN asked, jumping back to the safe, familiar role of reporter. "You stopped The Fallen. Why stay beyond that?"

Optimus gravely answered, "Because the planet of our origin is unlivable right now. We stay because we are refugees and Earth is as essential for our survival as it is for yours."

"But there have been attacks on human cities. Battles."

"Yes," Optimus said. "Our home was destroyed by war, and it is because of that war we are taking these steps today. We wish to remove ourselves from direct involvement with human populations, to protect you in case of another attack. At the same time, we wished you to see that we are invested in Earth as our home. We desire to build both alliances and friendships with you on equal footing."

"But here's the thing," Fassbinder said, still undaunted by the total lack of cooperation on Optimus' part, "if you want alliances and partnerships, you'll expect something from us. You're asking us to accept your help and, in some cases, that'll mean we're beholden to you."

There was a sudden silent attentiveness. The moron with a Top 10 Robot Pickup Lines vibe was making some kind of point and even AP was paying attention. And so was Optimus.

"I think it's great you want to set up this mutually beneficial thingamajig," Fassbinder assured him, "but I think we'd all like to know about the next level up. You don't want rulership, so you have to have some kind of accountability. Who are you going to answer to?"

The question hung there for a second, and even I wasn't sure I knew how to respond to it.

It was Prowl who broke the silence. "We are seeking to become one nation among many nations. We would be answerable to you as our peers."

"So you're, what, putting in an application to NATO?" Fassbinder demanded.

"We are open to that possibility," Optimus answered, recovering, "though our location in the South Pacific might complicate that. However, the fact remains that we are going public with our presence and intentions today out of an abiding respect for humanity and a desire to become full and equal citizens of your world. The statement Sam read constitutes New Archon's declaration of independence. While we are at war, we remain under martial law, but we look forward to a time of peace when we can implement democracy for the first time among our race, inspired by humanity. And just this morning, we submitted a request to both the Kiribati and US governments for formal recognition of New Archon as a sovereign nation. We anticipate swift approval on both, whereupon we will submit our request to join the United Nations. While we will never be human, we hope to no longer be counted as aliens."

We all drove back to our tower in Arlington afterward, just to kind of collectively catch our breaths. I was a little shaky when it was all over, to be honest, and feeling pretty good about the whole thing. Despite Fassbinder being a complete aft, we'd gotten our point across, and the announcers on the stations 'Bee was surfing through as we drove were mostly stunned and occasionally excited.

To celebrate, we ordered takeout for the humans and Ironhide broke out some energon over in the command center. 'Bee continued his channel-surfing on the massive video screen there, adding social media reaction videos to the mix.

By the time Leo and Fassbinder crashed the party, I was in a good enough mood that I let them raid the buffalo wings, just for old time's sake.

That all came to a screeching halt when my least-favorite news personality (because he was too out there to be called a reporter) came on. The party quieted as his slightly-wild eyes stared unseeing at us through the big-screen.

"Big news from the diplomatic corps: the aliens have invaded, they've claimed Earth in the name of their planet, and now they want favors. Of course, no one will say this. This so-called Optimus Prime, who admits to only having control of half of these dangerous refugees from a foreign world, says he wants no rulership. He wants friendship and alliances and all the benefits of siding with the greatest nation in the history of the world.

"That's all well and good, but how are we supposed to believe them? They admit to bringing their war here – close on to 12,000 actual human lives have been lost because of a grudge match with just one of their enemies. Sources inside the Pentagon are saying that they've been drawing on the military resources of the world since not long after they and their kind terrorized Mission City in 2007, killing another 3,000. They want friendship, but they were here, undocumented and unauthorized, for decades before they decided we needed to know about it.

"Don't worry about them, they say. They can fend for themselves, but they've driven people out of their homes in Kiribati. Through their human lackey, Washington lobbyist and known corporate bootlicker Sam Witwicky," here Mudflap shouted an obscenity at the TV, "they've bought out liberal senators with promises of Big Tech in the future. Will this Big Tech take NASA to new worlds so these aliens can take over the world we've got here? Do we have any say in what kind of developments they impose on us?

"We didn't ask for their war and we didn't want their help. They want partnership, but you can bet they'll be asking for a place in the chain of command so they can decide which of their so-called friends can arm themselves in the wars to come. The next time their grudge match comes to our shores, what will we have to give up to get their protection? Because with no exit strategy from this war and no conditions of victory, there's no telling how or if we can get out of their mess."

"Bumblebee," Optimus quietly said, "Go back to the real news stations."

Guess we still got our work cut out for us, I said to my brother.

He nudged me affectionately in return. And that is no surprise.

As I'd expected (after more than a year of behind-the-scenes prep work), both the US and Kiribati did recognize New Archon's sovereignty within 24 hours, and I was appointed by Optimus as the ambassador to the US. Getting into the United Nations was going to take a bit longer, but with the US recognizing New Archon, it was just a matter of making enough concessions to Russia and China for them to save face, and we'd be golden. I gave us an estimated timeline of between one and six months before I'd be doing double-duty as ambassador to both my native country and the UN.

In the meantime, though, my first official act on behalf of New Archon brought me to the Rose Garden. There, in the presence of the President, the JCS, Optimus Prime, Ironhide, the White House press corps, and various other dignitaries, I explained the award we were giving to Will Lennox: the New Archon Xaaron Citation of Merit.

At the podium, I held up the little jewelry box that contained the award so everyone could see. It was a pin; the "bar" of it was shaped to look like the Matrix of Leadership, and a circular medal was suspended from it. The medal was embossed with the Autobot symbol and with words and glyphs that ran around the edge giving the name of the award in both English and Cybertronian.

After explaining the symbolism and markings, I said, "This prestigious military honor is reserved for the truly elite. To receive it, a human must engage in close-quarters combat with a Decepticon and either contribute to the enemy's demise or be solely responsible for it. But this award is not named for the Autobots' mightiest warrior. Rather, it's named after one of its wisest leaders. The recipient must also have exhibited exceptional battlefield leadership and good judgment and character off the battlefield. Brigadier General William Lennox is fitting as the first recipient of this tremendous honor. His leadership, judgment, and warrior spirit have both protected our shared home and forged lasting bonds of friendship between humans and Autobots. It is with great pleasure and gratitude that I now present on behalf of New Archon the Xaaron Citation of Merit to Brigadier General William Lennox."

With that, I stepped away from the microphone to give him the award. He stood at attention while I pinned the medal to his uniform, then I stepped back and saluted him. He returned the salute, and we shook hands. Under cover of the audience's applause, he asked, "So what funny business is in this thing?"

"Will," I reprovingly said, "you know we had to submit the design for review – with translation – to the Department of Defense before we could give it to you."

"So what funny business is in this thing?" he repeated.

I smirked. "In a color we can't see, it has the glyphs for 'Lennox' and something like 'slayer of sparks' but uber scary. The 'bots have taken to calling it the 'Boogeyman Badge.' Any Decepticon who sees it is gonna spring an oil leak."

He rolled his eyes and I laughed. "Smile for the cameras, Will."