Chapter 10

"Vos"

The towers stretched up to the stars. Spires clawed out of Cybertron's crust and tore through the sky. There were few roads below - because everything was centred on flight. There were Seekers everywhere. Hawkmoon gazed all around, marveling at it all. It was her first time seeing other Cybertronians of the same chassis, and the sheer quantity of them was staggering.

It was fascinating. These were her people.

It was terrifying. These were not her people.

It was meh. People were overrated.

Hawkmoon couldn't decide how she felt. A touch of all three, maybe. All at once. Not that any of it mattered; she had business to attend to. Most notably: find the contact Nightbeat had given her, pray to the Traveler it wasn't a trap, and... work from there to, maybe, to join the Seeker Elites - all so she could get some space-flight training in and hightail it back to Sol. Hawkmoon couldn't wait. Gecko was gone, and there was a ragged hole in her spark where he had once been, but there were others she cared about: Ikharos, Jaxson, Quantis, Octavius-8, Petra, Nadiya, loads. Family and friends. Home.

Home was a ways off yet, though.

She slipped into the city, darting between the spires with graceful abandon - and she wasn't alone. Other Seekers were doing the same, flying here and there and generally being casually spectacular. Hawkmoon, for a time, allowed herself to be a tad spectacular herself. She weaved between skyscrapers and bridges with as much finesse as she could manage. Another Seeker lazily joined her, laughing and dancing away. They flew, for a time, in near synchronization before their paths diverged. The other Seeker tipped their wing in a final farewell rife with fond acknowledgement before disappearing below into the mass of STREETS and BUILDINGS and PEOPLE.

Hawkmoon needed to do the same, eventually, but she was... anxious. Scared, even. The idea of what she was walking into being a trap was becoming more and more of a certainty in her mind, and though she was set on it one way or another, she was still taking the time to enjoy every last second of freedom she could grab. Stalling for joy.

All the same, Earth awaited. Sol itself awaited, and she hadn't the inter-planetary flight protocols or a warp generator installed. Getting to Sol was impossible. She needed help. And the only ones capable of doing that were the Cybertronians - the Seeker Elites, to be more precise.

I'm dawdling, Hawkmoon groaned into the emptiness of her all-too-quiet processor. There should have been another voice. A small, shy voice full of affection and support. A voice...

Oh Gecko.

She needed to do something. Needed to. If she couldn't... Hawkmoon didn't want to think about how screwed up her situation was. Not anymore than she already had.

"What do I need to..." She started to mutter, then delved within her own processor. The files she'd received from Nightbeat were still there, still intact, still giving her an icky feeling. It bloomed open under her mind's eye, unraveling all it held and offering up to her everything it owned. All Hawkmoon needed were the contact's name and coordinates. Everything else was useless as far as she was concerned. At the moment, anyways.

-Designation: Sunburst
-Profession: Psychologist, Energon Seeker Elite (formerly)
-Location of residence: Fifty-third level Capital Crescent, dock seven-XRV8R, Vos City
-Other notes: Enlisted in the Vosian Conclave of Speakers, ties to both local Vosian Enforcers and Seeker Armada

A psychologist. Perfect. Fragging perfect. But hey, at least she had connections. Hawkmoon groaned. Just the one silver lining in a burning scrapheap. Great. Traveler above... At least the address was easy to find. Her internal dig-map pinged it instantly. It was a quarter of the way across the city, in the northern sector, but not far to travel by wing. Few places were. How long before that too was taken from her, just like everything else?

Hawkmoon simmered. She was getting nowhere. So, to rectify that, she went somewhere. Straight to the proffered coordinates.

Of course Seekers needed to prove they were different to other Cybertronians. Of course they didn't need stairs, what with the majority of the populace possessing flight-capable chassis. Of course the front porches for all the apartments on the shimmering steel-and-crystal tower Hawkmoon had arrived at were walkways out into the open sky, lined with shrubs of crystalline growths.

It wasn't bad, per se, but it was... ridiculous.

Hawkmoon loved it - and them, those crazy Seeker-architects - for that alone. She landed on the lip of the extended balcony, cautiously rocked up to the door and sent an activation signal to the open wireless port beside the entrance. A doorbell, of sorts. Possibly. Probably.

Traveler above, this was still weird to her.

The door retracted and slid open. Another Seeker gazed out. Her frame was a soft orange and faceplates warm yellow, but her optics were a blue so light they looked like someone was shining a weak torch through blocks of solid ice. Her wings were curved and her digits a tad blunter than Hawkmoon's own, but in terms of stature they were of the same height and the vaguely same shape.

"Yes?" The other Seeker asked expectantly.

"Uuuh," Hawkmoon sagely said. "Does... Sunburst live here?"

"That would be me." The other femme raised an optical ridge. "Does Archlink have another message to me? Another conspiracy theory to test?"

"I don't... know about that."

"You are from the Institution, correct? You were due here five breems ago."

"I'm not... no, I'm not from any institute." Hawkmoon cautiously, subtly edged back - just to give herself a little room. Something was doing strange things to her; a crackling feeling was falling over an unused part of her processor, stemming from some kind of frontal receptors. But they weren't audial or optical receptors, nor designed for physical touch, so what... "I'm, uh... I was sent here by Nightbeat."

Sunburst's features, once bored and indifferent, became grave so very quickly. It was beyond worrying - plummeting right into the realms of distinctly unnerving. "Oh."

"Oh," Hawkmoon weakly agreed. "Look, I know this is... I don't even have a word for it. Weird, maybe? He pointed me in this direction, your direction, because-"

"Inside." Sunburst looked around and stepped back behind the threshold of the door. "Now."

Hawkmoon only begrudgingly went along. Following orders chafed on her spirit. Even orders from a Seeker on the verge of panic - but sometimes she could play along, like she was doing now, just to satisfy curiosity and maybe a little more besides.

The inside was just as grand as the outside. Where Phosphora's and Overwatch's home had been tame and at least comprehensible as a home, Sunburst's apartment was something dedicated entirely to style and extravagance. Was that a Seeker thing or was she just well-off? Paintings and mosaics lined the wall, most of Cybertronian make - and a few that weren't. Hawkmoon spotted a couple of things that looked like nothing she'd seen or heard of on Cybertron, things that had to be alien in origin. Or rather, of aliens-other-than-Cybertronians origin. There was an old vaguely-insectoid carapace oiled and lacquered, a blunted knife of maybe-bone covered in swirling symbols, a twinkling feather shielded under a crystalline casing, and-

And a small petrified sapling of glittering silver and soft gilded gold lights lay in a dark obsidian square-pot midway down the foyer, inconspicuous and yet not. It... reached out to her, to Hawkmoon, and... she felt it. Just as keenly as she did the presence of Sunburst from that other receptor she had yet to understand, though differently. It outstretched fingers of nothingness, of bare essence, and stoked her own being - the presence within her very soul, her very spark.

It... wasn't Light. Or maybe it was, at least a little. Or maybe... maybe it was the lack of it. The feeling of it wasn't a feeling - it was an absence, a hunger, a void of things unmaterial. Hawkmoon shook her helm and refocused her optics on what was ahead; whatever it was, it made her plating crawl - and she had no intent of humouring it any further.

The Vex sang a single note, swaying like reeds in the wind. They took notice of nothing beyond the Garden, the Garden, the Black Garden - where nothing made sense and everything was twisted into its worst possible state.

The singing got to her too. Some part of her, some part deep down - it sang along with them. Jaxson didn't notice. Neither did gentle Gecko, bold Xiān, or even inquisitive Ghost. But Ikharos did. Ikharos was too sharp, in sight and mind and Light. He caught her singing and he stared - but when her optics met his eyes, helpless and desperate and horrified, his gaze softened. He understood only as much as she did, but his intent and care was so polished and perfected that he immediately went for a solution while she stewed in her own hysteria.

"We need to be quick," he muttered, so as to not alert the enraptured constructs praying only thirty feet away, humming to their new god. "Let's find this Black Heart and rip it out before it does the same to us."

So they did. So they did - with fire and blood and the odd drop of spilled Alkahest. The last sang as it spurted out of her broken plating where Vex claws dug in and plasma bolts seared through.

Lennox-2 said nothing beyond the occasional growl, gasp and scream. She felt like a traitor - a hostage to her own body's split loyalties. It was haunting. It was horrifying.

They walked on, past the tree and further into the apartment. There were few other surprises, at least on the spiritually disturbing front. There was, however, another Seeker in the living room (maybe, it could have been a dining room for all she knew) she and Sunburst walked into. He was seated, alternating between looking at the live-video feed on the monitor on the far wall and the datapad he held in his servos. He glanced up as they arrived, optical ridges furrowing as he beheld Hawkmoon.

"She knows Nightbeat," Sunburst said, quickly and conspiratorially.

The other Seeker's optics brightened. "Who-"

"I don't know." Sunburst stopped, gave Hawkmoon a scrutinizing look, then indicated one of five chairs littered around a rounded table. "Sit."

Hawkmoon sat. The chairs were specially-built for Seekers in mind, so there were wide notches to allow for her wings to not uncomfortably scrapw against the backs. "I... have a few questions."

"So do we," Sunburst replied sharply. She looked cross, though she sat down with a tired vent all the same. "You know my designation, so I assume Nightbeat told you about me."

"In a way. I don't know much-"

"Not surprising." Sunburst gestured to her companion. "This is Contrail."

Contrail gave Hawkmoon a stiff, muted nod. She tersely returned it.

"You are?"

"Hawkmoon." She forced a smile. It didn't reach her optics and she knew it. They all did. "I'm... well-."

"Well?" Contrail echoed, missing her intent. He was still frowning suspiciously. It was putting her on edge. "What about Nightbeat?"

The killer.

"He's fine," Hawkmoon said with a hollow shrug.

Sunburst glanced at the monitor on the wall. At an unspoken command it switched to another news channel. A flash-pic of Nightbeat's faceplates were displayed. And in Cybertronian glyphic right below: BREAKING NEWS, PRIVATE ENFORCER FOUND DEAD EARLY THIS ORN. SUSPECTED SUICIDE, AUTHORITIES SAY.

Had she skin and blood, Hawkmoon's features would have paled. Alas, she had left that aspect of her life behind oh so long ago. "Scrap."

Sunburst turned her stern blue optics back on her. "I think you need to explain why he sent you here."

Hawkmoon decided to tell them, 'cause why not? Everything too. Everything bar all the sensitive information she had no choice but to omit, which really boiled down to saying, "I've got amnesia," and little else.

Classic, that.

"Amnesia?" Sunburst questioned. "How-"

"Corrupted memory files, I'm assuming?" Contrail put his datapad aside and leaned forward. His helm boasted a thin winglike crest running up into the air from the front of his forehead. His faceplates were of a dark grey colouration while the majority of his frame was a faded tan brown. Not as vibrantly painted as Sunburst, perhaps, but his plating gleamed with polish all the same.

Hawkmoon nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"How, may I ask?"

"I crashed in the Sea of Rust."

Both Sunburst and Contrail winced. It didn't end their little inquisition, though.

"How do you know Nightbeat?" Sunburst pressed.

How DID I know Nightbeat, Hawkmoon almost corrected, but... no. Probably not the most diplomatic thing to say. "He, uh..."

"Yes?"

Hawkmoon vented a sigh. "How do I know you won't turn on me?"

"I may well do it anyways," Sunburst quietly threatened. It caught Hawkmoon off-guard. "Nightbeat was my friend. You're going to tell me here and now how you know him and why you're here, or I'll be making a call to the Enforcers."

So it wasn't a trap. That was... possibly good. Not quite what she'd hoped but better than what she'd feared. Hawkmoon curled her digits, sliding her talons over the plating of her palm. This was why she had forwent all the trappings of civilization as a Hunter. People were too complicated, too opinionated, too exhausting. It was ridiculous.

But she had to play along whether she wanted it or not. It chafed near as bad as the tree in the hallway she'd only just left behind.

"Apparently I did something," Hawkmoon said carefully, watching both Seekers all too closely. She was on the edge of her seat, ready to scamper if one of them so much as threatened calling the Enforcers again. "Before my databanks took a hit."

A surprised, thoughtful look crossed Contrail's faceplates, but it disappeared before long. Sunburst wasn't deterred in the slightest and impatiently gestured for her to continue. So she did. Slowly and meticulously, wringing out crumbs of truth from the guarded blanks of knowledge she had no intention of sharing. She began with the seizure of her person, a brief and non-descriptive mention of the cortical patch and then... the breaking of Nightbeat.

Then Sunburst went and snapped, "This is utter scrap."

"I have the files he gave me," Hawkmoon retorted, anger mixing with something like nervousness, and she boldly copied the said files and sent them out in an unsecured datapacket. Just to be sure, she tagged it with the surgically cut-out footage of Nightbeat shooting the other mech - shooting Killswitch, or whatever his name had been. Contrail and Sunburst cautiously caught hold of the proffered signal. Their optics dimmed as they oh so briefly looked inwards, then...

Then Sunburst vented explosively and said no more. Her optics blinked off entirely and she slumped back.

"Nightbeat..." Contrail said thickly.

Hawkmoon regretted her actions almost instantly. "I... I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, I shouldn't have... Frag..."

Contrail stood up. For a scary moment Hawkmoon thought he was going to do something terrible, but he just looked at her. Just... stared for a while. It felt like sitting in for a martial disciplinary - but Hawkmoon couldn't remember ever having done so before. Not once in her century-long life.

Before, maybe? When she was a mechanical plaything to the powers that used to be?

It didn't matter. Not with two... she hesitated to call them aliens, because Cybertronians were so... people.

"He pointed you here," Contrail murmured. "To Vos - all the way from Stanix. Why?" His optics narrowed. "What do you want?"

Hawkmoon vented a third time. Here it was. Here it went. "I want to fly."

"Fly?"

"Among the stars. I want... I want to join the Seeker Elites. I want to become an Energon Seeker."

"Why?"

She met his gaze evenly. "Anything to get off-world."

Sunburst told her, in a hollow voice, that there was a room on the second floor she could use. After that the two Seekers made to leave - one to somewhere else in the apartment and the other away, because apparently Contrail was only a happenstance visitor.

Just her luck, really. He hadn't needed to know anything, but he did. It only heightened the chance of less-than-desirable attention falling on her. Typical, that; having a circumstantial bystander hear her modified confession. Hawkmoon thought to begrudge him, to distrust him, to keep on edge whenever he was around, but then, just as he was at the door, Contrail turned around and said, "Nightbeat saw something."

Hawkmoon gave a start. "I don't know-"

"Sunburst knew him better than I." Contrail's optics bored into her own. "I rarely acquaint with grounders, but he... he was a friend. He... wasn't the type to take his own life. Not for nothing. Whatever he saw in you was a secret he was willing to take to the Well of Allsparks."

Hawkmoon distantly wondered what that was, but she was more focused on keeping her traitorous mouth shut lest she come out with more damning scrap.

"I am an Energon Seeker."

She looked at him in surprise, optics blinking. "You are?"

Contrail nodded slowly. "I work at the Vosian Exploratory Institution as a scientist and federal agent, but... I could take a term as an instructor. Primus knows there's plenty of prospective Seekers like yourself looking for adventures..."

"You'll... teach me?"

"Can you fly?" Contrail asked. "Well?"

"Yes," Hawkmoon said firmly.

"We'll see. At least your frame has solid infrastructure, making it all the way from Stanix to here like you did. I'll have to talk with Sunburst." Contrail looked past her. "Don't leave this place. Not until she says so. There's things we have to clear up."

"With the local Enforcers?" Hawkmoon asked suspiciously, before she could stop herself.

Contrail's optics brightened with shock. "No. With... with keeping your identity-"

"Already done. Nightbeat gave me all I needed to keep myself safe."

"... So he did. Still... be wary."

Hawkmoon was struck by the sudden urge to mutter a muted "Thank you."

Contrail's expression softened - and then he was out of the door, leaping into the air, transforming and flying away.

She was in.

Hawkmoon felt like falling over on herself and crying with relief.

She was going home.

AN: This one was difficult. In the "how-the-hell-do-I-go-about-describing-an-alien-robot-city-dedicated-to-those-who-can-fly?" way. Which is, admittedly, probably not a common problem - but it's the one I was facing here.

Massive thanks to Nomad Blue for rummaging through my nonsense.