Tracks again asked to meet with me on the roof. Had it been a month already? I hadn't noticed anything different between him and Annabelle, but I'd been really focused on everything else. To my surprise, Annabelle was there, too, sitting beside him on his hood when I arrived. I again pulled up a patio chair.
"So…what's the big news?" I asked.
"I'm staying," Tracks said, "with Annabelle's agreement."
"I had no idea about Beryl and his clan," she quickly said. "I'm working hard to be much less of a brat now."
Tracks smiled and gave her a sidelong glance. "I'd enjoy you a lot less if you weren't still a little bit of a brat," he teased, then focused on me, "but we've talked and she knows what buttons to not push now, figuratively speaking."
"And he understands that my flashbacks aren't due to anything he did wrong and don't make him a bad guardian," Annabelle said. "So he wants to stay, and I still want him as my guardian. We figured it would be best for you to hear it from both of us directly."
I nodded in agreement. That young woman was wise beyond her years – we were lucky to have her. And we were both lucky to have Tracks, especially considering the hand he had in bringing Optimus home.
"You're sure about this, Tracks?" I asked. "You're not just doing this because I asked you to try?"
"I'm sure." He shook his head, his expression wistful. "It's what Beryl would have wanted."
At some point, he'd need to stop letting ghosts dictate the path of his life, but I wasn't about to say that in the face of this choice. Instead, I simply said, "Good."
…
Life eased back into its normal rhythms. It felt weird knowing that we didn't have the Matrix of Leadership anymore, and when I let myself dwell on it, it was more than a little disturbing thinking of it being in Decepticon hands. But until Optimus was fully repaired, there was precious little we could do about it, and according to Ratchet, it was going to take at least a couple of months to have Optimus and his Blackbird armor battle-ready again.
"So do we have a plan to get the Matrix back?" I asked Optimus one night in our bond dream. (In the waking world, his frame was welded to a repair berth for another two days because Primes are restless patients, especially after being in the med bay for more than a month.)
"My chief strategist is confident Shockwave will reach out to us," he said, but I could feel how unsettled he was at the thought of just waiting around for the Decepticons to make the first move on this one. "Prowl is correct that I am the only one who can generate energon, but I had only a slim chance of survival and yet here I am. There's only a slim chance that Shockwave will cast the Matrix to the stars or attack Earth, but I'm concerned we're dealing with fate, not probabilities. And while Shockwave has been the face of this whole operation, he is not the leader of the Decepticons. Megatron has always been even more difficult to predict."
I half-smiled. "I thought our choices determine our fate."
He was not in a mood to be comforted, though. "That is true, but right now, our options are few. Once I'm fully repaired, we will initiate contact if Shockwave hasn't already contacted us. I am not content to just see what Megatron will do if he is thwarted in this." He turned a knowing look on me. "One option we do have is to bring you here to the safety of New Archon."
"True," I allowed, "But is the island ready to support humans? Because I thought that – other than Aisake Bauro's homestead – the only accommodations were a couple of abandoned huts near the shore with a shared outhouse. Besides, the kids are still in school, and didn't Prowl say it could be years before the Decepticons come to the conclusion that you're right and only a Prime could wield the Matrix?"
"We are dealing in 'slim chances' right now," he reminded me.
"We've got BINDS repaired enough to be considered full strength, not to mention nine Autobots guarding me here in D.C. We're going to be okay. When the Decepticons hear the word 'Prime' it's you they think about, not me. It's you I'm most worried about."
"You need not worry – I'm even better protected than you are. And I've learned my lesson," he assured me, a hint of humor warming the bond. "From now until I'm fully repaired, I'm cooperating with Ratchet."
…
I was at Mikaela's auto shop (and sometimes Autobot med bay) picking her up for a lunch date when Bumblebee's alarm slammed into me over the bond. At the same moment, a text alert from Hound lit up my phone's screen. /Daemon's out of bounds. He's left the school./
/After him, Hound!/ Bumblebee immediately responded. /At that speed, he's in a car. Trailbreaker – doubleback and protect Beatrice./
Hound responded just as fast, /Got a visual, but he's got at least a quarter-mile lead on me. And he's leaving wrecks behind him, slowing me down. Permission to transform?/
/Granted!/ Bumblebee answered.
I poked my head into the repair bays, holding up my phone and hollering, "Mikaela, we've got to go – NOW!"
With a puzzled expression, she pulled out her phone and her eyes widened. She said, "Gotta go," to her nearest employee and hurried my way. Wheelie was a little shadow following her like usual.
"RaFly?" I asked her as she led the way out the back, employee door.
"We stick together," she said, a fierce glint in her eyes, and I nodded.
Bumblebee was in the parking garage, his engine impatiently revving. Mikaela grabbed Wheelie and then she and I dove into 'Bee's cab. Routing their 'comm chatter through his own speakers, he all but flew up the ramp and out the parking garage toward the street, RaFly right behind us.
"Evac?" Mikaela asked.
"En route," the medic answered from Bumblebee's speakers. "3 minute ETA. Gotta go around the Capitol's restricted air space."
"Slag, he's gaining," Hound said, and I noticed Mikaela open her Autobot-enabled tracking app. It showed Daemon (still coded as a healthy blue) racing down a street with Hound close behind.
"Decepticon or human?" I asked, my heart in my throat. Both had tried to kill me over the years.
"Not sure," Hound responded. "I'm not getting any spark readings, but they could be masking the signature. Other than speed limit, though, it's driving like a human."
"Mirage?" Mikaela asked.
"En route," he reported. "ETA less than 2 minutes."
"Should we have Trailbreaker check 'Trice out of school?" Radio Flyer asked. "Keep her safe in his cab, just in case?"
"Yes!" Mikaeala answered.
"Oh! Check them both out, Trailbreaker," RaFly added.
Mikaela and I exchanged a puzzled look, but Trailbreaker understood and responded, "So we can bring Daemon to the attention of human authorities without mentioning alien abductions?"
"Exactly," the femme said.
"Good call on having Trailbreaker check out 'Trice," 'Bee said to RaFly.
"It looks like he's headed toward the National Cathedral," Hound announced. "What are your orders?"
"That's a commercial district," Tracks said.
"What is he doing?" Bluestreak asked. "Trying to cause a scene or maximizing casualties?"
Maybe both. "Stop him, Hound," I ordered. "Do whatever you have to do, but stop him."
"And Daemon?"
My heart thundered in my chest. He was my only son, but he was also the Autobots' only hope, and the 'cons might understand that as clearly as my Autobots did. "Protect him at all costs, but don't worry about staying in your alt."
"Understood." A heartbeat later, Hound exclaimed, "Yes!"
I demanded, "What?"
"Mirage just jumped the car. He's sprawled across the top in his base form and digging his hands into the pavement to slow them down. I'm catching up – almost there now."
"SEEKERS!" Evac shouted at the same time Hound said, "Frag it."
"What?!" My hands on the steering wheel were all sweaty.
"A Seeker just killed Mirage. Shot him off the car. That's gotta be a Decepticon because a human-built would have been destroyed by that blast."
Bumblebee ran a red light, and I said, "We're too far away to do any good, 'Bee. Five minutes at the fastest. Don't do this again, not like you did with Reverb."
"Evac, do you have a visual on that Seeker?" Trailbreaker demanded.
"I've lost him."
"They've stopped," Hound said.
"Careful," Trailbreaker answered. "It could be an ambush."
"I'm not waiting for backup."
We waited for several tense heartbeats, and then Hound said, "Slag."
"What?" Trailbreaker demanded.
"GPS says they're here, but there's no sign of him. Signal's fading, there are Cybertronian and human biomarkers, but nothing more. No Daemon or the 'con."
"Look up," Mikeala suddenly said. "Look up, Hound! Look up!"
"Slag, you're right," he said, "and…"
Evac interrupted him, "I can't believe they did that."
"WHAT?" Mikaela demanded.
Evac answered, "Skywarp warped in, handed Daemon off to Dirge at about 8,000 feet, and warped away."
"Dirge?" I asked. The name rang a bell, but...
"The leader of Shockwave's Seekers," Bumblebee answered.
Mikaela's hands started trembling. "Shit."
"They're gone," Hound said. "Dirge is taking him straight up."
"Shut down BINDS!" Mikaela shouted. "Bumblebee, tell Optimus! We have to shut down the whole slagging satellite system! You shoot that Seeker down and Daemon's dead!"
Optimus' voice came through. "We are directing BINDS to not target Dirge under any circumstances. I am in pursuit."
Mikaela threw her phone at the floor hard enough to crack the case. "GPS has lost him."
We drove in shocked silence for another minute or two before it started to sink in – Daemon was gone. My son was gone, leaving GPS behind – leaving Earth. He'd be taken, kidnapped by Decepticons. By Shockwave. Primus! How were we so blind? How did this happen? How did we let this happen?
It happened because I'd brushed off Optimus' instinct to evacuate us to New Archon…
"Trailbreaker," Mikaela barked, "do you have Beatrice?"
"She's here in the school's main office with me, but they're still looking for Daemon."
"Autobots, rendezvous at the school," Bumblebee ordered. "We'll meet you there."
"Evac! Mirage is alive," Hound cut in. "Barely. I don't know how, but he is."
Mikaela scrubbed her face with her hands and then roared in frustration.
"What?" I asked her.
"I have to go help Evac with Mirage. I didn't spend more than a decade learning how to work on them just to abandon a wounded mech now. I'm an Autobot medic. I have to go help." Holding my gaze, she said, "Protect 'Trice for me. Don't let anything happen to her."
I nodded. "I promise." To 'Bee, I said, "You heard her."
When we pulled up, it was bad – even I could see that. Mirage's right shoulder, arm, and a big chunk of his torso were gone. Evac was frantically sealing severed fluid lines and Hound was gathering up fragmented parts. Mikaela jumped out, again with Wheelie in tow, and through her open door, I heard Mirage weakly say, "For amity, my Prime. It was for amity's sake."
I closed my eyes and gripped 'Bee's steering wheel, refusing to break down and cry at that. As if my eyes listened.
"Go!" Mikaela ordered, and Bumblebee peeled out, taking us away from the scene.
My sense of Optimus was fading, and it made my anxiety levels climb. "Is he getting close?"
"Who?" 'Bee asked.
"Optimus. Is he getting close to Daemon and Dirge?"
"Afraid not. He's falling behind. He has to go around the planet, and Dirge is going straight out, wherever he's headed. Besides, even if his Blackbird mods were in perfect condition, they wouldn't allow him to catch a Seeker who was determined to get away."
And then I remembered just how badly he'd been injured. "Does he even have weapons right now?"
"Nope."
"Patch me through to Prowl," I said.
A few seconds later, 'Bee's speakers said, "Prowl here."
"Does Optimus have any chance of catching them?"
"Unknown. We don't know Dirge's destination, though he appears to be headed toward Mars and the space-bridge. Regardless, it is improbable Optimus will overtake a Seeker."
I had to swallow twice against the gut-wrenching fear for Daemon before I could summon the will to say, "Call him back. I've lost my son – I'm not going to lose my brother, too."
"Acknowledged."
When I arrived at the school, it was chaos with a growing line of anxious parents in their cars trying to pick up kids, police crawling all over the place, and the cops blocking the entrance of the parking lot. It took us forever to get to the front of the line.
I rolled down my window as we approached the officer directing traffic, but he curtly said, "Move along."
"My son's been kidnapped," I insisted.
The cop asked, "What's your name?"
"Samuel Witwicky."
"They want you at the command center," he said and pointed toward a knot of people in front of the school.
'Bee found a parking spot and, as I walked up, another police officer approached me. "Mr. Witwitcky?"
"Yes?"
"This way." Then he led me into the principal's office where 'Trice and Trailbreaker's holoform Troy Breaker were waiting. She saw me and ran over, throwing her arms around my waist. I dropped to my knees and hugged her tightly.
I held her, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat and blinking back tears that she, at least, was safe. There was a restless, desperate part of me that wanted to be on the move, hunting down Daemon and smelting the spark of Dirge and Shockwave and every other Decepticon that had anything to do with his kidnapping. In good time, I promised myself and, in this moment, I instead clung to my daughter.
"You said your son was kidnapped?" a professionally-dressed woman asked.
Focusing on the present again, I looked up at her. "That's what I heard," I said, nodding toward Breaker.
"It was my assumption," he sheepishly admitted.
"We all need answers. Please come with me."
Breaker and I exchanged a glance – this stranger was acting odd – and I studied her briefly. Her shirt was too floral for a Men in Black vibe, but she was too calm and collected in this chaos. The police weren't panicking, but there was a tension around them that said they didn't have the answers. Despite what she'd said, I got the impression she knew even more about what was going on than I did.
It was that thought that decided me. I stood and nodded that Trailbreaker should join us. Holding as tightly to Beatrice's hand as she was holding to mine, we followed the woman deeper into the school. Eventually, she brought us to a security room where there were banks of monitors.
"Ms. Mearing," the woman said, and another, older woman straightened from where she'd been watching something. "This is Mr. Witwicky."
Mearing looked me over, clearly unimpressed.
I inwardly sighed. Of course she would be here, since this day didn't suck enough already. Never rains but it pours. "Why is the President's National Security Advisor involved with this?" I demanded.
Mearing crossed her arms. "Because less than half an hour ago there was an alien road rage incident less than a mile from here. As well you know, Prime."
I slowly let my breath out and then turned to Breaker. "Can you and 'Trice wait in your car for a few minutes?"
"But Daddy!"
I knelt again and hugged her tight. "He'll keep you safe."
"But I want to be with you," she protested. "Besty said your new friends would keep us safe, and Breaker is an old friend."
I smirked a little. "Trust me, Breaker can keep you safe, too. And I won't be long."
She nodded and then reached out to hold Breaker's hand.
"You have my word," he softly promised her.
"Can you unlock my phone?" she cheerfully asked as he led the way out.
"Of course," he indulgently said.
Glancing at the three other humans in the room, I said to Mearing, "I'd like to speak with you privately."
"My assistants can hear what you have to say."
"Privately or not at all."
She relented and nodded toward the door with her head, and they all filed out.
When the door closed behind them, she said, "Your kid disappears and there's an alien rumble up the street. I don't believe for a second that's a coincidence."
"It isn't," I admitted.
"Then what the hell happened?" she demanded.
My shoulders drooped as the weight of it all settled over me. "I only know what his bodyguard and the rest of the team observed. Daemon left the school at a high rate of speed, so they pursued and tried to intercept the car he was in. It got away."
"It got away," she incredulously repeated.
"It got away – and one of my mechs might have gotten killed trying to stop them," I snapped back.
"Your mechs?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"Yeah, my mechs. Citizens of New Archon."
She glowered for a moment and then relaxed slightly. Pointing to the screen she'd originally been looking at, she said, "Then maybe one of your mechs could help solve this little mystery. We've got one person in two places at the same time."
Then she leaned over and hit a button on the keyboard. The monitor showed a split screen of a teacher eating lunch at her desk in her classroom while an identical-looking teacher approached Daemon where he sat at lunch, slipped him a note, and the two of them walked together off-screen.
"That's a holoform," I reflexively answered.
"A what?" she demanded.
Now it was my turn to be incredulous. "You know I'm a Prime but you don't know what a holoform is?"
Irritated, she snapped, "Do you want your son back or not?"
It was like a punch to the gut, but I realized she would be powerless to help me. Feeling a little queasy, I said, "The teacher's innocent. It was an imposter who took my son. I need to go."
"Wait!" she demanded, following me out into the hall. "What's a holoform?"
"A projection," I said, continuing toward the school's front door. "A hard-light puppet. They're mimics, and sometimes they mimic us. The one who took Daemon scanned the teacher. Voices are harder, though, and that's why the holoform passed him a note."
"Voices are harder than a hard-light projection?"
"I know. Go figure."
When I reached for the exterior door, her hand shot out to hold it closed. "What does all this mean for national security?"
I closed my eyes and fought the urge to ball my hands into fists. "I don't know yet. This is so much bigger – and so much smaller – than national security."
"I need your cell number," she insisted.
I turned to glare at her. "Contact al-Sharif. He'll tell you what he can when he can."
"What do you mean it's both bigger and smaller?"
I shoved the door open and strode through it with her hot on my heels. "It means my son's life is in danger, and the only reason they'd take him is because they think it'll give them a tactical advantage somehow. And if it does, if kidnapping him somehow allows the Decepticons to defeat the Autobots, then the whole planet is in danger, not just the US."
She paused but I continued on to where Trailbreaker and Bumblebee were parked side-by-side, and she hurried to catch up. "What can we do?"
"Thoughts and prayers?" I snidely answered.
"I have access to the greatest arsenal on Earth," she began.
I bitterly laughed at that. "He's not on Earth anymore!"
"He isn't?"
"Did you honestly think I'd be here if he was?"
Trailbreaker popped open his driver-side rear door for me, and I turned to look at Mearing. Her jaw was hanging open, and I said, "The best way to help is to butt out. Stay out of NEST's way."
…
We didn't go home. 'Trice and I cuddled on Trailbreaker's middle bench, and he headed north and east out of DC instead of back toward Arlington. But with 'Trice talking and clinging to me, I couldn't ask his holoform where he was taking us. Trusting that he knew what he was doing, I tried to relax into my seat and stroked my daughter's hair.
"I didn't have time to finish it," she innocently babbled, "but I'll show you tomorrow after school. I just got as far as drawing Daemon riding a comet like a roller coaster. I did a really good job on his eyes, but I couldn't get his nose right."
"I can't wait to see it, sweetheart," I said, wondering if we'd ever be together as a family again.
She must have noticed my mood, though, because she patted my hand. "Don't worry, Daddy. I think Daemon's going to be okay. He'll ride the roller-coaster with Fancy and have so much fun, and then Besty and I will have tea and cookies with everyone! Except Daemon. He'll just want to eat an apple. He's so weird."
I just hugged her tighter. If only it were all that simple.
As for Trailbreaker's destination, I had my answer when we pulled into a familiar Air Force base in Delaware. Trailbreaker got us past the checkpoint and drove us to the airfield and to Daisy, our C-17 that was Autobot-level suped-up, courtesy of Wheeljack. We'd probably be authorized to break out Wheeljack's Moonshine, too. My stomach was already queasy at the thought. Even with the exterior force fields and inertial dampening fields and stuff and sticking to the upper atmosphere, it was risky business going that fast.
Mikaela met us at the bottom of Daisy's loading ramp, and 'Trice ran up to hug her before I was completely out of Trailbreaker's cab. He stayed in his holoform, too.
"How's Raja?" I asked Mikaela when Beatrice took a couple steps away to give a fist-bump to Hound's holoform.
"Stable, for the moment," she answered in a low voice. "Evac says he's lucky his frame was made for a Tower's mech – it's extraordinarily high-quality construction. It probably saved his life. But we're all being evacuated to New Archon."
I nodded. "Figured as much."
Al-Sharif and Leo were both inside with all the rest of our 'bots in their holoforms. Their alts were in the process of getting strapped in by various Air Force personnel. There was a partition set up that divided the hold of the C-17, and I assumed that Evac and Mirage were on the other side of it.
The soft chatter quieted as we approached.
"Where's Annabelle?" Mikaela asked.
Tracks nodded toward his alt. "Sheltering. When she heard Dirge was involved…"
I sighed heavily. Of course it would be triggering for her that the same Seeker who nearly killed her was the one who kidnapped Daemon.
Tracks added, "I told her she was welcome to stay there as long as she liked, and I even had my cab stocked with tissues, gum, and car-scent hangers like Bumblebee recommended."
I nodded in approval that he was growing into this role of guardian. "Good." Sobering, I said, "Will and Sarah are already on New Archon helping everyone get settled, so hopefully it'll be good for her to be with them again."
"If not, we can always have her teleconference with Dr. Sarkisian," Trailbreaker added.
Mikaela was clinging to 'Trice, but whatever Annabelle might say would probably not be safe for little ears. "I'll check in on her," I offered, heading her way.
"Hey 'Trice," Hound's holoform said behind me, "I have some crayons and a sketchpad in my cab, if you'd like to draw."
I half-smiled. Trust her guardian to have everything 'Trice might need. He probably had Goldfish crackers, juice, and a tablet for her in his subspace, too.
I knocked on the window of Track's driver-side door, and the glass rolled down.
"I'm not going to be any help, Prime," she said in a little voice from the passenger seat.
"You don't have to be," I assured her, leaning on the window frame.
Her cheeks were tear-streaked, and her breath was shaky. "I'm so sorry about Daemon."
My arms ached to hold my son. "Me, too. I can only imagine what he's going through right now."
"He's terrified," she said, curling her hands into fists and pressing them against her eyes. "Terrified but clinging to hope. Even if he's hurt, even if they rough him up, he'll be hoping to his last breath to come home."
She would know.
"Do you have any idea why they would take him?" she asked.
"None."
"Besides the obvious," she murmured.
"Yeah." The obvious. He was the son of a Prime, so they'd assume he was one, too. The most-vulnerable Prime. The easiest to reach, to kidnap. The youngest and easiest to manipulate.
She swallowed hard and said, "They didn't assassinate him, just like they didn't kill me and Mom outright. If you know why they took him, it'll tell you what his chances are."
"I honestly have no idea. Ransom, maybe? Trying to coerce us into helping them somehow?" Like coercing us to into helping them make energon? We would. In a heartbeat, we would.
Her hands fell into her lap, and her eyes were almost haunted. "I hope so. I hope their plan requires him to stay alive."
I could almost read her mind. When the Decepticons had taken her and Sarah Lennox, the plan had been to kill them in front of Ironhide. Only a very timely rescue by Optimus and the others had saved them, but not before both Lennox women were injured. Rescues in outer space – on Mars or Cybertron or wherever they were taking Daemon – were infinitely harder.
Almost choking on my own fear and worry, I answered, "Me, too."
