Chapter 14

"Constellations"

Waking up from recharge was like a lightbulb flickering on - no drowsiness, no ache, no yawning, nothing. Hawkmoon stretched out her wings and groaned just for show, just to pretend, just to temporarily convince herself things hadn't changed so drastically. It didn't work; she couldn't draw breath. Not that she'd needed to before, as an Exo, but it had been just as jarring then. She had no lungs. She had no lungs. It... scared her. All the time. Nevermind the heart; she couldn't breathe.

Hawkmoon onlined her optics and vented air out of her system. It sounded... almost the same, but the sensation was different. Too different. She... wasn't human anymore. Hadn't been for a long time, but...

There was a knock at the door. It slid open. Slipstream peeked her helm in - all matte black with silver faceplates and red optics - and waved with a silver-and-purple servo. "You still functional?"

Hawkmoon sat up. Her frame was still... trembling with the intensity of the previous night's bout - flying, high-grade, and then more flying. They had raced. They had soared. They had tested their limits, pushing themselves to the extremes. She barely remembered any of it; her memory banks had taken a jolt from the high-grade energon and operated at half-strength, just so her overcharged system could expend all the excess energy without damaging her more delicate internals. Remembered enough, though. Remembered Cyberwarp's infectious laughter, Nacelle's murmured praise, Slipstream's dangerous dares - and what was a dare to a Hunter but the only thing that mattered? It was almost like being home again, amongst friends seeking thrills.

Almost.

"Just about," Hawkmoon replied, vocalizer fritzy with stray doses of static. Why.. oh yeah, hadn't they flown through a thundercloud? Hawkmoon remembered the feeling of electricity running down her frame, along her wings - remembered the sensation of something close to adrenaline, whatever the Cybertronian equivalent was. It had felt good. Left her a mess afterwards, but... it had been something to treasure. Something to chase in future. Something to try at home. Recreational storm-chasing; the newest thrill for all Hunter-kind.

Or at least Hunters with the mechanical stability to survive the concentrated power of a raging lightning storm - like the more resilient Exos or capable Arcstriders. Maybe even a couple of Stormcallers too if they behaved. Fun for most everyone involved.

"We've got a tutorial to get to," Slipsteam said, tilting her helm. "Think you're going to make it?"

"Sure, yeah, just gotta..." She needed a shower. A quick one would work - as long as the water was scalding hot. Hawkmoon distantly wondered how much heat her current frame could actually take. A lot, hopefully, if they were expected to take themselves out beyond the protection of Cybertron's thin ozone layer. The planet was awfully close to its parent star, and she wasn't keen on being melted down to her struts for veering a just a little closer. "Washracks clear?"

Slipstream gave her a bemused look, ducked out and then reappeared. "Nacelle is just finishing up."

"Anyone else in line?"

"Nope. 'Warp and I already went through. Why?"

Hawkmoon sat up and gave her a helpless shrug. "Just... just a me-thing, I suppose. Grab me a 'cube?"

"Sure. I'll leave it on the table. Gotta touch up my paint..." Slipstream gave her own chassis a critical look over - and then spared Hawkmoon one. "You should too."

Hawkmoon waved her away. "Yeah, yeah, maybe in a coupl'a decaorns. Go on, you."

Slipstream disappeared. Hawkmoon stood, tested her joints - expecting stiffness and finding none - and made her way out. She dipped her helm to Cyberwarp by the table in way of greeting; the other femme warmly returned it. Hawkmoon carried on, muttered a "hello" to Nacelle as he passed her on his way out of the washracks and slipped inside. The air was already filled with a thin cloud of steam.

Perfect.

She dialed up a few of the water dispensers and relaxed into the steady drumming of water droplets tapping against her chassis, her frame, and... yeah, not so much heat, but the water slipped into the tiny cracks between her plating and gradually scoured out the sparse collections of dust and soot she'd picked up over... well, over her entire Cybertronian life, actually.

First shower as a Cybertronian.

Yay for the small victories.

"-no flying while inside the Institution's facilities. While off-campus, we expect you to adhere to the same rules; to comply with the local Vosian laws. Transgressions will result in dire punishments, up to and including being expelled from the premises and membership of the Vosian Exploratory Institution." The lecturer, a crotchety old Seeker, glared at the mass of undergraduates with thinly-veiled contempt. There weren't all that many of them either, so he was able to pick out and glare at each and every one of them in turn. It was hilarious. "If you are expelled, you are gone. You will never be permitted to re-enroll as a student. You will never earn the permits to operate as an Energon Seeker."

Out of the corner of her optic Hawkmoon spied Nacelle nudging Slipstream with his elbow-joint. She spared him a scathing, scandalized look before turning back to the tutorial lecture. Something in her direction buzzed - and Hawkmoon could taste amusement and exasperation not her own. Her unfamiliar sensors were acting up again, what with the other Seeker femme in semi-close proximity. It was beginning to become a strange little problem, fast, and she didn't know what to do with it.

"You okay?" Cyberwarp asked, catching her by surprise.

Hawkmoon fumbled for a response. "Yeah," was all she came up with.

"Your field's-"

"And, I will remind you, it is the height of disrespect to speak during a live lecture," the elder Seeker announced, voice fraying with irritation. Hawkmoon realized he was glancing their way and sat up straight (goodness, these Seeker-fitted chairs were incredible). She sent Cyberwarp a message, using the comm-codes the other femme had given her the evening before, and said, ::I'm fine.::

::You're nervous. It's just-::

::A university, yeah. No, this really is fine, I've done this before.::

Cyberwarp shifted beside her. ::You have? Where?::

... Ah. Well. That wasn't... How to tell someone - an alien robot someone - that you attended a human university - who were unknown to these aliens - on behalf of a Warlock from your Fireteam to help with a few lectures and tutorials as an aide, not a student. On matters largely concerning other aliens, usually a mix of tactical analysis and cultural studies.

Yeah, no.

::Old friend of mine::, Hawkmoon said - which wasn't strictly a lie, and continued, ::Was just helping him organize for his class. Out-of-the-way kind of place, whole lot smaller than this.::

In some dimensions, maybe, but not all. The Last City's educational sectors were pretty expansive and well-developed, particularly given the sadly lacking state of the human race as a whole, and formidable in every domain it settled. It may not have had the physical height of the Vosian Exploratory's Institute, but on ground level was much more domineering territory-wise. It was a little intimidating too; all that power in driving the minds and opinions of all the generations to come, consolidated in one place. Maybe not Risen, save for maybe those Warlocks who passed through (since most of them were of age and experience to teach instead of being taught), but baseline humanity weren't to be underestimated. The Red War had proven that much.

::Oh, right.:: Cyberwarp inclined her helm just slightly. ::Vello?::

::Vello.:: Hawkmoon confirmed.

::What's it like?::

::Unremarkable.::

::Oh.::

::What about you? Where are you from?::

Cyberwarp shrugged - just enough for Hawkmoon, sitting right beside her, to notice and no one else. ::Vosian native, north-eastern district. I'm a Mid-High Towerling.::

Hawkmoon nodded, just to feign understanding while she filed the information away for investigation later. Playing imposter involved a whole lot more research than she'd been originally led to believe, back when she and a few other scouts had contemplated using Red Legion coded permissions to run ops against the remnants of Ghaul's army. The very notion of trying to get past security-orientated psionic metaconcerts (brought up by a particular snarky Warlock in eavesdropping distance) had shot the scheme down real quick.

Psions were spooky.

"-at is all," the old Seeker finally rattled off. The room filled with noise of clanking metal as everyone got up at once, bustling to get out and get elsewhere - anywhere but in the suffocating presence of this old codger. Hawkmoon looked over her downloaded timetable and murmured, "Flight test."

"Should be... interesting," Cyberwarp offered. More interesting than this went unsaid.

The flight test first, and mostly, consisted of entering a hanger built into the side of the Institute's star-grasping tower and showing off that yes, my thrusters are operable, I can use them to fly even as I am. Oh, you want me to transform? Sure! How do I look?

"Very good," one of the inspectors murmured, looking over Hawkmoon's alt form. It felt... weird. A little intrusive as well. "And you can fly without issue?"

"Yes," she replied, keeping her voice neutral.

"Good, good." The inspector frowned. "There's soot-"

"Lightning."

"I'm... sorry?"

"Flew into lightning," Hawkmoon explained quickly. Apparently the shower hadn't been thorough enough... "That's why there's some soot."

The inspector made a thoughtful humming sound. She wasn't certain it was a good sound. "We'll have to run a frame-wide deepscan, to see if your static-compensators are still functional. Just in case you... 'accidentally' fly into a lightning storm again. Yes?"

"Yes," Hawkmoon begrudgingly sighed. "Will this-"

"It's customary, don't worry. Your peers will be getting the same." The inspector made a face and muttered with a grimace, "We can't afford more students exploding mid-flight. It looks bad."

"Wait, wha-"

"Transform, please."

Hawkmoon morphed back into her humanoid form, landing on her pedes.

"Transformation sequence seems smooth," the inspector mumbled, tapping away at her datapad. "Any aches or pains?"

"I... no?"

"Are you sure? You don't sound very sure."

"There's... yeah, no. No, no aches or pains."

"Good!" The inspector tapped her pauldron. "Flight-systems are operable, in adequate condition. Next is that deepscan of your chassis. Come with me."

Hawkmoon followed the inspector into an adjacent chamber, one that she immediately identified as a medical wing - if crossed with a jumpship repair shop. The inspector led her over to a berth, which she reluctantly lay down on, and a half-dozen weird-looking devices sprung up around her, held by automated limbs built into the berth. Another Seeker appeared, a mech wearing a wide, beaming smile and small, compact wings. He was rather diminutive for an adult Cybertronian, at least compared to those she'd met, but he approached them with the utmost confidence. Trailing behind him, watching from a small distance, was Contrail - who gave Hawkmoon a nod of acknowledgement when their optics met - as well as another unfamiliar Seeker, this time another femme - who was studiously watching and taking notes.

"Hello," the small, strange mech gleefully greeted, "I'm Red Light. I'll be your 'anti-owchie-guru' and 'mender-of-booboos' for the foreseeable future. You are..." his optics dimmed for a split-second "... Hawkmoon. Welcome to my labo-"

"Can't say that," the other femme muttered warningly. "Nor 'dungeon', 'scrap-shop', 'energon-recycler' or 'my own personal Pit'."

Red Light shot her an unhappy look.

"Oh, fiiiine. Welcome to... my, uh… my sanctuary-from-all-worldly-hurts. Yes, that. Welcome, welcome." Red Light lifted his wings and clasped his servos behind him. "Now, you might be confused as to why you're so lucky as to get such an esteemed and hilarious personal medical officer like myself assigned to watching over your state of physical being during your stay here, but you can be assured it was not fortune alone - Contrail has informed me that you may have taken some damage to your databanks in the past and wanted it addressed to stem any potential deterioration of mental faculties, and I consider myself at least semi-competent in that regard!"

Hawkmoon felt her spark seize up; this was... not what she'd wanted. "Uh..."

"Oh, don't worry, it isn't that unusual. I lost a couple of memories myself, back in my own heyday as a young, brash student such as yourself, and I turned out perfectly fine!"

The inspector vented a chuckle. The other femme groaned and lifted her datapad to cover her faceplates. Contrail said and did absolutely nothing.

"But first... what was it you wanted, Jumpstart?" Red Light asked.

"A scan of her chassis' components," the inspector told him. "Seems our newest enrollee is a storm-chaser. Want to check up on her charge-disperser systems, and thermal shielding while you're at it."

Red Light spared Hawkmoon a beaming smile. "Storm-chasing! Oh, my dear, you are going to go far."

"Should I not have-"

"No, don't worry, there's nothing to be ashamed of. We've all done exactly the same."

Hawkmoon spared Contrail a questioning look. He didn't say a thing, just continued watching Red Light with a morbid sort of detached interest.

"Deepscan, then." Red Light nodded to himself. "Relax, pull in your field, remain calm. There's nothing to worry about."

"You say that like there is something to worry about."

"Just spark-spectres."

"Spark-what?"

"Onwards!" Red Light declared. He looked to the side. "Minerva? Scanner?"

The other femme, not the inspector, came by and brought one of the berth's many tools down over Hawkmoon's chassis. She flicked a switch on the side, stepped back for Red Light to take over and went back to typing something into her datapad. "Ready."

"Just... one... moment." Red Light hunched over, tapped a digit against Hawkmoon's chest, then, happy with whatever he'd picked up on, he peered through the weird-looking scanner's vid-feed. "Insulators are good, well-maintained. Something like sootmarks - by Primus, did you fly into the middle of the storm? Fantastic - but those will wear off. Nanites are repairing, and quickly at that. Oh, hmm... some odd spark fluctuations, but nothing alarming. Nerves, maybe. Are you nervous?"

"Of course she's nervous," Minerva muttered. "You scare all your patients."

"I make them feel comfortable."

"Yeah, no, that's not what the surveys say.

Red Light harrumphed and went back to work. "Some minor modifications, simple flight-tech. Oooh, some of this is quality. I bet you have great balance."

"I... do," Hawkmoon said uncertainly. Well, she did, that was true, just... she didn't know why. Or rather, she hadn't known why. The present was full of surprises.

"Charge-dispersers?" Jumpstart impatiently inquired.

"Ah, yes, they're there," Red Light mumbled.

"They're 'there'? Is something wrong?"

"Nope. Look great. You can cross that off your list."

Jumpstart gave him a distasteful look. "Fine." Then, to Hawkmoon, "Don't test yourself any further. A broken charge-disperser is serious business."

"I... I won't," Hawkmoon managed. Her close-proximity sensors were acting up - again - what with Red Light leaning close.

Red Light made a grumbling sound. "You need to pull that field back, dear. You're making me antsy."

"P-" Pull what, Hawkmoon almost asked, but refrained out of a low kind of fear - because whatever it was, it sounded like something taken for granted. Taking a gamble, she tweaked with a few of her sensors, including the ones she had no idea what they were even there for, and Red Light continued on in an apparently satisfied fashion.

He leaned back, though, only a few moments later. "There's some... occupied space in your core, near to your spark. Connected to your sensor-lines too. A modification?"

"Sure," Hawkmoon said automatically. First she'd heard of it.

"Hmmm." Red Light looked through the scanner again. "Looks unorthodox. Not any model we usually get. Reminds me..." he trailed off, stiffened, then slowly relaxed. "Huh." He moved the scanner up, to her neck and helm. "Looking good so far. Advanced systems, yours. Where's... right, your databanks. Heuristics are looking intact, stable. No signs of physical damage. Let's bounce a signal, shall we?"

Hawkmoon felt a sensation in the back of her head - like an itch on the inside, hidden among her thoughts.

"There we are. Some... yes, I see now. Fragmented data, quartered away. You're lucky you have any control of your faculties, you know. Very lucky..." Red Light trailed off. "What's... these files? Strange. Never seen anything like them. Primus, you really are unorthodox, aren't you? I suppose I've never had a look at a Vellon Seeker's systems, so alternations aren't out of question, but..." Red Light stepped back, a troubled look on his faceplates. "Contrail, can I speak with you?"

"Of course," the other mech said, his own features guarded.

"My office, if you please." Red Light looked around. "Minerva, take a look at her energon and nanite count, if you would."

"Is she passable?" Jumpstart asked.

"Oh yes," Red Light replied, waving her away. "Above and beyond, actually. She'll be an Energon Seeker for sure."

"But what about-"

"Confidential, I'm afraid. She checks everything on your list, though."

Jumpstart grunted, tapped at her own datapad and, with a final look at Hawkmoon, walked away - same for Red Light and Contrail, which left her with Minerva alone.

"Uh... hi?" Hawkmoon hesitantly greeted.

Minerva glanced at her, surprise moulding her faceplates. She was a soft, warm blue with deep black faceplates, her optics a curious sort of red. "Hello," she said, then went back to sorting through more scanners. She pressed one against Hawkmoon's chassis and hummed, "You've been fueling well?"

"I think so."

"Frequently?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Nanites are... nanites are active, very active, but a little sparse." Minverva walked away, grabbed something from a table, and returned. "I'll introduce a few more into your system, boost your digital firewalls and repair-subroutines. Hold still, please." She pressed the thing against a small port in Hawkmoon's side, then pulled it away. "There."

Hawkmoon stifled the sudden need to sit up. "What was... was that safe?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes." Minerva closed the port over. "Just the raw materials your frame needs to make more nanites. You're not so desperate that you need them pre-built. You doing alright?"

"I'm... yeah, I'm fine." Hawkmoon forced herself to relax. Nanites? For... repair-subroutines? Like robotic white blood-cells? Or more than that? It dawned on her just then that Minverva could have injected anything into her, used any excuse and Hawkmoon would have believed it. What choice did she have? She wasn't Cybertronian; she wasn't familiar with what was healthy or not for them.

Could a Cybertronian even get poisoned? Sick? There were too many questions she hadn't gotten the answers to yet, and couldn't abruptly ask after either without looking like an idiot - or some sort of crazed lunatic.

"So..." Minerva awkwardly began. "You're just starting?"

"Yeah. I am." Hawkmoon drew her optics up to the ceiling. "Applied a couple of decaorns ago, arrived last orn."

"Excited?"

"I think so." She propped herself up onto her elbow joints. "What about you? Do you work here, or-"

"No, I'm an initiate like you," Minerva admitted. "I'm taking the medical-sciences module."

"Ah."

"So you're the one Contrail brought in?"

"I.. yeah, I am." Hawkmoon inclined her helm. "It's some change of scenery."

"I'll bet. Vello's really out of the way, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"Mhm."

An awkward quiet stretched out after that - or maybe it was just awkward for her, Hawkmoon wasn't sure. She decided to break through all the same.

"So how far are you ahead of me?"

Minerva raised an optical ridge. "Chatty one, aren't you?"

"Am I?" Hawkmoon question, frowning.

"Inquisitive, more like," Minerva muttered. "Most mecha coming through here are usually focused on their studies and only that. I'm half a vorn in, that's how far."

"Do you have a trine yet?"

"Yes." Minerva vented a snort. "Were you going to ask to join?"

"No," Hawkmoon replied with a disinterested shrug. "Not all that sold on the idea just yet."

"It's essential."

"So I've been told."

Minerva sighed. She pushed away the scanners, stepped back and crossed her arms. "It's temporary, y'know. The trines we get here - they're temporary. No one's forcing you to bond. But hey, you might meet people you'll stick with for the rest of your existence. Most who come through here do."

Hawkmoon nodded along, half-listening. "Have you... flown yet?"

"Flown?"

"Beyond Cybertron?"

"Oh. Yes." Minerva offered her a smile. "Don't worry, they'll have you doing zero-g flight tests in no time, and scouting expeditions not long after. As long as you cut it."

Hawkmoon stifled her sigh of relief before she could vent it; Cybertronian concepts of time were a bit... iffy compared to the human norm, but... 'soon' was better than nothing. Hell, maybe she wouldn't even have to complete her Seeker-education. All she really needed was to learn how to fly beyond a planet's atmosphere, how to protect herself from the rigours of cold space, and how to subsist on whatever rations she packed or other types of fuel she could look for in the galaxy's expanse while heading home.

Oh, and find out where home even was in relation to Cybertron.

"Hawkmoon."

She sat up, turned her helm and spotted Contrail - who was giving her a scrutinizing, guarded look. "Come with me, please," he quietly asked.

If she had blood, it would have gone cold. Something in his tone just wasn't right. Hawkmoon flashed Minerva a grateful, apologetic smile and dutifully followed the mech. He led her out of the flight-test area, down some corridors and stepped into a darkened room - flicking on the lights as he went. Terminals and holoprojectors activated at their approach, the largest of which threw up a massive, spiraling map of twinkling stars.

It looked like a galaxy. Or a portion of it, anyways. Lines and hexahedrons crossed through the 3D map, cutting through vast swathes of territories and marking what she assumed to be borders - up to a certain point, at least. Beyond that, everything else was mundane and untouched; unexplored regions of space, just waiting for a Seeker to fly through.

Contrail came to a stop below the map, slowly turned around and said, lowly, "You... are lucky."

"I'm... sorry?" She furrowed her optical ridges. "Is something wrong?"

Contrail looked to the side. His faceplates were scrunched up - troubled by something. "Red Light knows."

"Knows what?"

"Knows about your memory."

"Oh..." Hawkmoon's spark thrummed unpleasantly. "So..."

"That's the only reason neither of us have called the Enforcers."

"What?" She gave the mech a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

Contrail just pointed at her - at her chassis, near to her spark. "You have it."

"Have wha-"

"The Aperture Scrambler."

Oh.

That.

Wait.

"You're Cloudbreaker," Contrail murmured. "You've changed your ident-codes."

Hawkmoon took a panicked step back. "I'm not-"

"Memory cores are damaged, I know."

"You can't-"

"That's why I haven't called the Enforcers yet, I said." Contrail grimaced. "This is... this is dangerous. Why did you come back? Why did you come back to Vos of all places?"

"I couldn't just... I had no choice," Hawkmoon blurted. "I have to fly, but there's nowhere else to go and, and, and they're still looking for me- for her. I'm not her. I just... I need to get off this planet, get ho-" she cut herself off. Contrail was looking at her strangely, and for the first time she feared she'd said too much.

This was why she didn't trust easy.

Some time passed before either of them spoke. Hawkmoon distracted herself by looking over the star-map, trying to pick out familiar sights - but astrology was never her strong suit. At least... not like this. She knew all the important stars, the ones she needed to use to guide herself on dark nights, and Ikharos had taught her to recognize the rest, but this wasn't from Earth, this was... something else.

She had a sinking feeling that finding home was going to be as difficult as trying to pick a needle out of a haystack - at least.

"Red Light has agreed to keep this to himself," Contrail announced, breaking her out of her reverie. "And, in the future, if you have any medical concerns or take any damage, you're to go to him. The less mecha who know, the better. Am I understood?"

"I... yes. Yes. Thank you." Hawkmoon paused. "Does Sunburst know?"

"No." Contrail shook his head. "I won't put this on her shoulders as well."

"Alright. Uh, thank you. Seriously. I mean it."

"I know you do." Contrail approached, went to pass her by, then stopped and dropped a servo on her pauldron. "Be careful. If this reaches the wrong audials, it will become a matter of life-or-death. Don't risk yourself. Not for anyone."

"I won't," Hawkmoon vowed. "Thank you."

Contrail left. The star-map receded into nothingness behind him. Hawkmoon lingered, fading panic battling with a deep-rooted sort of dread - of a pessimistic side of her whispering that no matter what, she was never going to find Earth again - and only gradually slipped away, back to her dorm.

Cyberwarp and Nacelle were inside, having finished earlier than her. "Slipstream's still going through some tests," Nacelle told her. He looked concerned. "She's... no, she's probably alright."

Quick to change the subject, Cyberwarp asked, "Where did you go? After your test?"

"Just for a stroll," Hawkmoon lied. "I wanted to explore some more of this place."

"Find anything?"

"A map-room. The, um... the label over the door said... astral-cartography, I think?" Hawkmoon squinted. "I'm not sure; wasn't paying attention."

"Were your results bad?" Cyberwarp asked quickly, optics wide and bright.

"What? No, no no, the test was fine. With flying colours and all that." Hawkmoon shook her head. "No, it was perfectly alright."

"Okay, then..." Cyberwarp gave her an unconvinced look. "If you need anything, just ask."

"I will, thank you." Hawkmoon turned to the two. "Is there... anything happening tonight? Any plans?"

"Hmm?" Nacelle, who'd been slouching by the table, perked up. "Oh, uh, celebrating our continued survival, I suppose. A cube of high-grade each."

"And a cube only," Cyberwarp told them, glancing between them both. "Getting overcharged right after a systems-checkup? That'd look bad."

Nacelle scoffed. "Of course? Who do you think we are?"

"Yeah, fair. I'll save it for Slipstream, I suppose."

Nacelle's expression fell. His optics turned away, to stare off into space. Hawkmoon spared Cyberwarp a questioning look, but the other femme shook her helm. Hawkmoon thought about maybe broaching the subject aloud, to force some answers, but then decided against it. She grabbed a spare energon cube and disappeared into her room - and tried her very best to ignore the fact that yet another person knew enough about her to put her in more danger, and that there was apparently some sort of… weapon? What was it? Something important at least, squirreled away in her chest.

That wasn't worrying. Not at all.

AN: Huge thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!