Chapter 33

"Stellar"

"Where were you?"

Hawkmoon paused in the midst of stumbling into the suite the Tai had given her. Nacelle and Cyberwarp were inside, servos crossed and trying their best to look stern - but their concern won out.

"Uh," Hawkmoon's processor drew a complete blank. "I, uh-"

Cyberwarp's optics suddenly widened - having finally gotten a good look at her. "Primus, 'Moon, you've been battered!"

Nacelle strode forward, looked her over with worry and all but demanded, "What in the Pit happened?"

"Um..." Hawkmoon considered it. "Úthaessel did it."

"What?"

"Yeah, she got so tired of my scrap that she just started whacking me."

"What?!"

"Said some insensitive things and she went crazy. That bird can hit hard."

"You're joking," Cyberwarp sighed. "'Moon - c'mon."

Hawkmoon grinned. "Yeah, no, Úthaessel did this. It's fine, it's just... frag, I don't know. Oor brought-"

"'Oor'?"

"Yeah, you know Oor."

"Sure, just didn't think you two were on a hypocorism-basis."

Hawkmoon shrugged; what can you do? "Anyways, Oor got some high-grade from somewhere, and-"

"Skydive!" Nacelle exclaimed. "I knew he was up to something!"

Cyberwarp glanced between them. "Am I... missing something? What's this about Skydive?"

"He asked for some high-grade. I... don't know why, but..." Nacelle trailed off. "He never partakes. Not usually, anyways, so I thought, 'what's the harm'? But if he's selling it onto the locals-"

"Leave it," Hawkmoon groaned. "I'll talk to him, Nas. It was probably something innocent."

Nacelle rolled his optics and turned to Cyberwarp. "She's overcharged."

"Kinda, yeah," Cyberwarp agreed. "I'll get her to recharge, flush it out."

"Thanks." Nacelle turned around, strode away and disappeared into his room.

"I'm not woozy," Hawkmoon grumbled.

"You're oversharing. That's not normal." Cyberwarp took her arm, guided them to her own room. "So... you enjoyed yourself?"

Hawkmoon shrugged. "I'm never sparring with Úthaessel again."

"That bad?"

"I think my struts have dents in them."

"Ouch."

"Fun, though."

"Really?"

Hawkmoon paused. She was, herself, taken aback by it too. "... Yeah. Yeah, it was. It was... almost like..." What I had before.

Cyberwarp gave her a thoughtful look; she understood perfectly. "I'm glad you're managing to get along with her," she murmured. "But we were worried sick. Do you know what time it is?"

Hawkmoon didn't and said as much.

"Past midnight. It's been local hours since we last saw you. A couple of joors. We tried to comm you, but-"

"Switched it off," Hawkmoon mumbled sheepishly. "Sorry."

"It's fine, you're alright, I forgive you." Cyberwarp turned her around and kissed her. "How much high-grade?"

"Cube and a half. In theory, anyways; they were in bottles."

"Aaah, right."

Hawkmoon wrapped her arms around the back of Cyberwarp's helm, pulling her close enough for another kiss.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"Mhm, I know," Cyberwarp replied, frame relaxing under her touch.

"I wasn't aware you needed me around to function in the most basic-sense possible."

"That's..." Cyberwarp groaned and softly pushed her away. Hawkmoon chuckled. "You're awful."

"I know." Hawkmoon paused, smile fading. She ran the flat of a digit down the side of Cyberwarp's faceplates. "You should go."

"... 'Moon, this is my room. How overcharged are you?"

"I meant back to Cybertron."

Cyberwarp's optics widened. "Are... are we really talking about this again?"

"You're a civilian, 'Warp. This isn't the right place for you."

"I'm not leaving."

"'Warp-"

"Don't even try it."

"Traveler above, sometimes I hate loving you," Hawkmoon groaned, offlining her optics.

There was a long stretch of awkward silence after that.

"You love me?"

"Okay, I realize what I said, and, yes, while I'm not going to take it back, I am going to request that we skip over it because it's A) not hugely important and B) it's embarrassing me and I'd much rather not be embarrassed, so..." Hawkmoon trailed off. "I am oversharing, aren't I? That high-grade was potent..."

"You. Are. So. Sweet."

"I'm actually a badass, so no, I'm not sweet, if anything I'm-"

Cyberwarp kissed her, hard. Hawkmoon was quick to reciprocate.

"I'm honestly amazed you don't find this weird," Hawkmoon mumbled between the not-actually-breathy-but-still-felt-that-way brushing of their lips. "Or weird-er."

"Why?" Cyberwarp pulled her helm back. "Because you're... what, a former alien?"

"I mean, yes."

"I thought we covered this."

"Acknowledging something is weird doesn't normalize it."

"What I'm most caught up on is that you're still clinging to this like it matters."

"It does," Hawkmoon whispered, tucking her faceplates into the place where Cyberwarp's shoulder met her neck. "I'm still not sure what you like on my end, and it's starting to throw me off."

"I don't know, I just..." Cyberwarp trailed off. "It's not like love is something you can just describe."

"Yeesh."

"Hey, I said lo-"

"I know, and I'm choosing to gloss over it because I hate awkward moments."

"There, that's it. That's what I-" Cyberwarp frowned. "Hold on, why are you so focused on whether it's weird for me? Why not it being weird for you?"

"I'm open-minded," Hawkmoon innocently replied.

"So am I! Primus, you're so judgy." Cyberwarp stepped back, servos on her hips. "What am I, then, if not 'alien' to you?"

Hawkmoon shrugged. "A genderless robot from another planet with a feminine persona capable of turning into a rocket-jet - which... sounds even stranger saying it aloud. And you don't have a nose. That's weird too."

"A no-... your humans had noses?"

"And hair," Hawkmoon said with a nod. "Sometimes. You don't have hair either. Not even eyebrows. And you have wings. I suppose- Damn, you really are alien, aren't you?"

"To you."

Hawkmoon smiled. "Naw, just makes you Exo-esque."

"Exo?" Cyberwarp raised an optical ridge.

"Humans remade in metal, remember? It- Look, it's a long story."

"You know I'm willing to listen."

"But I'm not willing to tell. I'm not that overcharged."

"Dammit," Cyberwarp muttered. She drew Hawkmoon back in. "We should recharge. You should recharge; gotta let that self-repair get to work."

"But-"

"No buts. We're..." Cyberwarp hesitated. "We're sending Vale off tomorrow."

Hawkmoon sobered instantly. "... Oh."

"Yeah."

"Fine, I'll-" She made to leave, but Cyberwarp tightened her hold.

"Just stay," 'Warp grumbled. "Primus..."

Hawkmoon vented out a low chuckle.

She hadn't been to a funeral in a while. She'd missed Cayde's, what with the whole dying thing, and that stung, but beyond that... most of her friends had doing well on the whole living front for the past while. At least before the dragon made a mess of things; there'd still been a Taken army between them and victory, last she'd seen. Well, there was that mess at Sorrow's Harbour nearly a century earlier, what with the whole Great Disaster, and the aftermath of Twilight Gap before that (she missed her Gjallarhorn something fierce), but... no personal funerals for a good twenty, thirty, nearly forty years or so. Which was miraculous, given her kind's propensity for throwing themselves into batshit crazy scenarios.

Hawkmoon hadn't attended a Cybertronian funeral either, which felt a little odd given that she'd witnessed three mecha die in her brief existence as one, and she didn't know what to expect from one of their send-offs - let alone a Seeker one. They were explorers of the space between worlds, so maybe pushing a body out through an airlock, like the sailors of old? No, apparently, according to Cyberwarp. Definitely not in the ranks of the Energon Seekers. Reason being that there was a general consensus that Cybertronian technology wasn't to be allowed to fall into the hands of other aliens, and what was the Cybertronian body if not a goldmine of crazy tech?

Sandstorm and Swiftsear went through with stripping Vale down of salvageable components and recyclable parts, stuff they might very well need down the line, and handed them off to the Dartwings to compartmentalize. Cybertronians didn't dress up their dead to look their best; they portrayed them exactly as they'd died, to remind the rest of the fragility and value of life - of their own not-immortal existences, to prompt them to do something with themselves. At last, the pair re-wrapped her in the shawl charitably given to them by the Tai, loaded her up in the Aurorus, and all the Seekers present set off up into Tai Prime's orbit. They reached the thermopause, dislodged from the shuttle and dropped Vale out.

Finally, they all chased her down, spiraling in near-perfect formation, and locked on with their heat-based weaponry. As one they opened fire - with heavy-plasma rounds, burning through the shawl and melting her exposed protoform-interior down to nothing at all. They dove and on, pulling back up one at a time - until only Swiftsear and Sandstorm remained, as the deceased's trine-mates, and they did not stop. They returned to Tai Prime alone. Without Vale. Absent a beloved third.

It was the most fitting send-off Hawkmoon had ever been to. She was still sorry to have witnessed it at all. Because Vale didn't deserve to die. She wasn't supposed to be dead. It was nothing but pure dumb misfortune that she'd been standing in the way of the Seeder-ship at all.

::Sandstorm blames me,:: Hawkmoon remarked, subdued.

Neither Cyberwarp or Nacelle contradicted her. They all knew it was true.

::Swiftsear blames himself,:: Nacelle added. ::I should talk to him.::

::You should. You're good at that. Making people want to live.::

::... Thanks,:: Nacelle said, softly and not without a hint of apprehension. Without further adieu he flew down after Swiftsear and Sandstorm.

Hawkmoon refrained, though. The space around her wasn't vacuum; mostly heavier gases superheated well past boiling levels and rife with solar radiation, all of it bouncing off her insulative plating - but the sight below and the sight beyond were to kill for. It had been a creature comfort of hers to drift in orbit around Earth in her jumpship before, and this was no different.

::Hawkmoon?::

::What is it, Skydive?::

The mech hesitated. He and his trine were hanging up there with her and Cyberwarp, conspicuously quiet now that she was thinking about it. They were talking about something in private. Considering something. And their EM fields were flaring out a little, bordering on uncontrolled. She could feel a flicker of unease there, then something... more.

::What is it?:: Hawkmoon asked again.

Skydive didn't say anything immediately, just opened up a new channel and slotted the lot of them in - connecting them with the Aurorus above and the Dartwings within.

::I tried to tell you, before we shipped off to Vahlu,:: Skydive started to say. ::I... didn't want you to worry.::

::Worry about what?::

::We - Deciforge, Ampitude and I - became curious. The Tai are... devout, you understand. To their sun. We were just... curious. Just curious. We didn't mean to DO anything.::

::'Dive, what are you on about?::

One of the Dartwings - Ampitude, probably, being the savviest of their techies - hooked her up to one of the shuttle's sensors. Optical-based and yet not; there were ulterior systems involved.

::We were... picking up on odd readings,:: Skydive hesitantly explained, stuttering nervously. ::Nothing outwardly alarming; Deciforge says it's usual to run into strange signals and elements near the habitation centres of alien collectives, but... yeah, w-we got curious. The Aurorus picked up on some dark-matter particulates, and...::

Hawkmoon understood dark matter in the most basic sense possible - because, to a Hunter, if you couldn't shoot it, eat it, stab with it, ride it, or have a laugh with it, what was the point of it? She understood that it was difficult to detect. She understood that it was formed of non-baryonic subatomic particles. She understood that it didn't register on electromagnetic fields - like her own EM field, just some invisible sparse space-miasma even her keenest sensors were oblivious to. She understood that it didn't clump together.

And yet, glancing via the shuttle's modified lens at a nearby Taishibethi orbital - an internally-urbanized arcology - she discovered the clump of all clumps. Dust, coating the station's outside, slipping in through invisible cracks, trailing behind ships moving to and fro. There was something else, too. A thick stream of the stuff; a fattened river of more invisible particles, sand beaten into form and scattered throughout the seas of existence - except here it was more of a sandspit, leading towards...

Leading towards Tai Prime's lone sun.

It wasn't a sun.

It was the universe's biggest sea-urchin. Tendrils shooting off in every direction - towards every inhabited planet, moon and asteroid in the system, branching fingers separating to caress every space-station major and minor. More limbs, too, shooting off beyond, to the distant stars.

To the rest of the Star-Web.

No, not a sea-urchin. An acorn, having sprouted the biggest oak to ever bloom, with colourful worlds of life for fruit, manned by an assortment of strange aphids - some feathered, some scaled, some shelled, and each of them bowing to the acorn's favourite little bug.

So - it wasn't an acorn either. Acorns didn't have agency. Acorns didn't have favourites - didn't have prophets or temples, didn't have entire interstellar civilizations firmly in their grasp. No, not an acorn. There was only one appropriate term for what she was looking at.

It was a god.

And a couple of its streams, its urchin-spines, its twiggy branches were running their way, crossing the vast gulf of space to reach them, her and the other Seekers - coiling around them, flowing through them. Sensing them. Tasting them. Holding them. Invisible fingers roving through their every component, caressing their sparks, trying to understand them inside and out.

::Well then,:: Hawkmoon vented hollowly, trepidation thrumming in her spark. ::Frag.::

It made sense.

Well, actually, no it didn't. But suddenly some other things made sense. Like why the Star-Court and just about everyone else had been horrified to learn that Admiral Jehennes had ordered the destruction of a star - and why they were so quick to send him to die. To be eaten by the sun. Or Sun, rather - because real gods had their names capitalized. What had Augur Seven-One called it, Jehennes' sentence?

Weregild for the strangled unborn.

Yeah. A whole lot more sense.

To a degree.

They descended back upon Khidai-Viis without once speaking with one another, docked the Aurorus at its designated hangar, made their way back to the Scarlet Palace and holed themselves away in their rooms. Nervous. Uneasy. Afraid. Of the bright god above, staring down at them.

Hawkmoon's only consolation was that the Sun wasn't Dark. Oh, sure, dark-matter, but not Dark-Dark. Not the Deep. Not the Black Edge. Not... not Clarity.

Wait, what was Clarity? It was the Dark, she knew what, but...

What? What the hell is happening? What the hell is 'Clarity'?

Hawkmoon frowned to herself, perplexed with herself. It wasn't a term she was familiar with, and yet she was. The word had bled into her mind from somewhere else. Somewhere forgotten. Before... Gecko found her? Or before her first real reset? Or before that, even, when the ice hadn't stripped the flesh from her bones?

Wait, what ice?

No. No, she couldn't- Best not to think about that. That was a one-way trip to DER-ing - to writhing with instinctual, animal panic, ripping her cold, cold limbs from her dead, dead body, tearing herself apart because she knew she was dead, she knew she was dead, she knew she was dead.

Deader than she usually-

No. Stop. Stop. Sun. God. Focus on that. Focus.

"Are... you okay?" Cyberwarp asked, quietly. Hushed. Subdued. Taken aback. Her EM field freely intermingled with Hawkmoon's own. Hawkmoon tried to pull hers back, tried to restrain it to the borders of her frame, but Cyberwarp was physically that close anyways, so it didn't do much. It was a losing battle. Lost.

"I'm fine," Hawkmoon lied. "Just... rattled."

"I know. Me too. It's... I never..." Cyberwarp trailed off. "Wow," she whispered at last, before the quiet of mutual introspect overtook them both.

It was a while before either of them spoke. Not until after Nacelle returned, saw them intertwined on the couch, made to leave and then spotted their expressions. "What's wrong?" he asked, worried, and they bombarded him with pings of shared datapackets - the discovery they'd made above.

And Nacelle choked out a single hoarse, "Woah," before stumbling back, collapsing into a chair. He stayed there.

They all stayed there, as they were. For a long time.

Eventually, Hawkmoon untangled herself and stood up. Left without a word. There were duties she had to see through. She'd put them off long enough. Hawkmoon grabbed the nearest Tai official, unveiled the service weapon in her custody, and uttered a single name. It was a vain hope; there were Traveler knew how many worlds in the Star-Web, and too many Taishiethi scattered around them to track.

But the official came back. Gave her an address, a location, and a set of personal commlink-codes.

She returned to her room, roused Cyberwarp and Nacelle, and stiffly announced, "We're going."

"Where?"

"Just a couple of systems over. We need a breather. We need..." We need out of this thing's shadow.

They quickly agreed.

The planet was called Estrum and it was a smorgasbord of sapient species. No natives, no overarching dominion from any vassal-conglomerate of a Star-Court's member race - just a plain old cultural mixing pot that co-opted as a trading hub for the Protectorate's broader interests. In a perfect position too: not far from the external border of the Taishibethi stellar-empire, and not far from the core either. The only really unique thing about Estrum was that it had been a Verunlix catacomb-world, where some of their lost orb-foxes had been hidden away/imprisoned for a couple of eons. Scary stuff. The foxes had abandoned it pretty quick after reclaiming their lost kin, the history logs said, so... yeah, the rest of the Protectorate's member races saw it as free real estate and moved right on in.

Oh, and it had a planetary ring lazily floating around it - the kind made out of rock and ice and whatever other space debris got caught up in it. They docked at the nearest processing station in that very ring, as prompted by a patrol of Tai foldfighters, and scared the hell out of the clerk on duty. Some of the guards, too, simply by landing and transforming on the spot within the station's hangar. Nacelle took point, handing over Taishibethi ident-codes given to them by the Imperial household and Admiralty Board both, explained that they were there on reasons "even I cannot comprehend" and generally waved his servos in the air until they were permitted to make landfall.

Estrum was gorgeous.

It was a pride-world, a jewel in the Star-Web - something the Protectorate's leading bodies could point at and say 'look where cooperation gets us, this is our future if we play our cards right'. It had the pressures and air composition that suited Taishibethi and a majority of other Protectorate races, but there were specialized 'haven-centres' where non-compatible species could prosper without having to trek about everywhere in stifling pressure-suits.

Her quarry lived in a quiet residential sector of the city Ghiras-Central, but regularly spent her time in the recreational district working as a Tai bladedancer - and, more recently, as a part-time caretaker for one of the newly established arcologies high in orbit, to rear some of the relocated Imojel pool-spawn so newly-liberated from the cutthroat culture of their forebears. Proud of her duty, proud of her work, hoping to be proud for her contributions towards the twelfth Protectorate species.

Hawkmoon dialed up her employer, asked if she was there at Ghiras-Central's local theatre, and when questioned in return as to why, replied, "Imperial business."

Which got her the very answer she was looking for very quickly.

She and her trine dove down into the pull of Etrum's gravity well and flew fast, crossing over continents and seas within mere minutes.

"Sorry I'm late!" The Tai rushed in, already pulling out of her jacket, and making for the dressing room. She looked around, probably for her employer, and said, "I'll get my paints and be out..."

Hawkmoon raised a servo in greeting, wagging her claws. "Hiya."

"Cyber..." the Tai's pit-dark eyes boggled, herself freezing in place. Her jacket fell to the floor, forgotten, and her wings folded close against her back. "Cy... Cybertronian?!"

The stage-manager, an elderly Iurphin by the name of Koras, nervously said, "These... ah, yes, Cybertronians are... here for... here to talk with... with you."

"Imperial business," Hawkmoon repeated. Her smile died away. She jutted a thumb towards the Iurphin's office. "Would you mind if we spoke in private?"

The Taishibeth looked to Koras, then back to her. Then back to Koras. "Okay," she meekly chirped.

Hawkmoon nodded and stepped out of the way. The Tai stiffly scooped her jacket back up, walked past, opened the door and slipped inside. ::I won't be long,:: Hawkmoon said to the others. ::At least, I don't think I will. Wait for me, please.::

::Will do.::

She stepped inside. Closed the door after her. Found the Tai politely sitting on one of the wooden chairs arrayed before the Iurphin's custom desk, with her arms folded against her chest and legs pressed together, talons sinking into the soft carpet. Her eyes darted everywhere - until Hawkmoon walked past and grabbed a second chair. After that, it was just her the Tai gawked at.

Hawkmoon turned the seat around to face the bird, sat down, inhaled an imaginary breath. She asked, "Your name is Ijutas, right?"

"Ijutas'Hren F'halla."

"Right. I'm..." Hawkmoon hesitated. "Your cousin, Yiivreni... I'm sorry, I don't know how to put this softly, but... he died in the line of duty."

Ijutas jerked, once. Flinched. Stilled. Stared. "... Oh."

"I'm sorry. He fought on the surface of Osteor, in the Vahlu System, to preserve an Imperial artefact from the Foe. He stayed behind to cover the extraction of three Ameursh civilian workers alongside the artefact. Yiivreni also... asked that I give you this." Hawkmoon pulled the Tai service pistol wrapped in beaded necklaces out of internal storage and gently passed it over.

Ijutas's eyes shone with tears waiting to spill over. She shuddered, almost violently.

"If there's anything you-"

"I'm fine. I don't... I don't need your help."

Hawkmoon nodded and stood. She touched the Taishibeth's shoulder, murmured "If you change your mind, your commlink now has my call-codes", and made her way out of the office. She'd only just stepped outside the door when she heard the dull clatter of something falling, the thump of someone falling after it, and then a muffled sob.

Hawkmoon quietly closed the door behind her. Sighed. Caught Nacelle giving her a pointed look.

"Go on," she whispered.

Nacelle passed her by, darted into the office, locked it behind him and - that was all she was able to stand. Her own field flushed with regret and sympathy and pity - and some revived hurts of her own. Cyberwarp took her arm, kissed her cheek, and said, "You did the right thing."

"I've only ever suffered for doing the right thing," Hawkmoon breathed. Or tried to. Her lungs were gone - and a part of her was set on trying to forget that at every single turn. It was all she could do to keep it down, keep it quiet, keep it from enveloping her entire world in the sheer terror of drowning all over again. She deflated, wings tipping down. "I just... wish it would get easier."

Cyberwarp scrutinized her. There was a determined glint in her optics. It was mildly unnerving. "C'mon," she said.

"Where?"

"What do organics do with their partners, when they want to enjoy themselves?"

"Stare at a wall until it stares back."

"I'm serious."

"They go out for dinner," Hawkmoon exhaustedly vented.

"So... like we do at home."

"Yeah. But we've... Scrap." Hawkmoon frowned. "I never took you out proper."

"'Took me out'?"

"To a proper dinner."

"We were being overworked," Cyberwarp replied, unimpressed. "We didn't have the time."

"You did. You brought me to see your folks."

"My-?"

"Family-unit."

"Ah, right."

"I've got to return the favour."

"Bringing me to see your family-unit?"

Hawkmoon stalled. "Uh... no. No, I think that's done and shut."

Cyberwarp grimaced. "Sorry."

"Let's just-"

"I've got a, um... I don't know. A credit-chip. The Imperial Palace Tai gave it to me. It's got some local money. I think."

Hawkmoon nodded along, eager to move on. "Great."

"So let's go use it."

"But Nas-"

Cyberwarp raised an optical ridge. "He'll be fine and you know it. He's in his element now."

"Suppose so." Hawkmoon shot a concerned glance behind, at the dark-paneled door. "Lead on."

The days on Estrum were bright, what with the ring up above to bounce the sun's glare down at them, but during the night it was simply delightful. Their whole world became a magical twilight wonderland, bathed in ethereal dark blue and rays of blinding white from above - with delicate little paper lanterns flickering orange and scarlet along either side of the pedestrianized streets. The roads were cobbled, smoothened over by the stamping of ten thousand feet, and distant music freely wafted through the air, competing with the low, hypnotic buzz of casual chatter.

Cyberwarp led her onwards, a dazzling sight in the half-shade of the all-too-bright night. Her optics, a cheery green, glanced back at Hawkmoon - smiling, teasing, somewhere approaching content with what they had with each other.

Hawkmoon was definitely in love.

They found a riverside restaurant, ordered nothing but the reservations for a small table and two seats close to the water's edge, and they exulted in each other's presence. There was a little glass vase with a single blooming flower rising out of it, bright red and shedding little soft petals in a whorl around the base of its container. It was something incredible. Cyberwarp glanced around wistfully and remarked, "It's a shame they don't serve energon."

"Mhm," Hawkmoon hummed. She enviously stared at one of the platters set before another diner - was staring right back and she was willfully ignoring. The whole meal looked delicious. "Sometimes I wish I could eat again. That crab over there..."

"Crab?"

Something in Cyberwarp's voice caught her attention. Hawkmoon looked back at her with a frown. "Yeah, crab."

Cyberwarp swiveled her helm around, optics widening. "Wait, you mean... you eat other living creatures?"

"Well, yeah. We're-"

"That's... oh wow..." Cyberwarp trailed off, her field blaring shock. It made Hawkmoon's sensors tingle uncomfortably. She had the look of a femme seriously questioning her life choices. "You... you eat living things..."

"Yeah, 'Warp. That's... the circle of life." Hawkmoon caught the other femme's servo and covered it with her own. Cyberwarp's optics snapped back to her. "Hey, you guzzle raw fuel-stuffs."

"No, we-"

"A specialized kind of raw fuel-stuff, sure, but the difference hardly matters. And that's weird to me. So don't be getting on that high horse-"

"High what?"

Hawkmoon groaned. "How is it you know what a crab is but not a horse?"

"Because... because I just don't?!"

"Okay, okay, calm down, there's nothing- Hey, now, it's not like those crabs are going to get back up and pinch us to death. Easy tiger."

"What's a-"

"Don't even try it. Please - for the sake of my sanity."

Cyberwarp reluctantly shuttered her optics and bowed her helm. "Right, okay, fine, but... We need to have a serious talk about... this. Cultural differences, because... we just do. Living things..."

"That sounds semi-fair."

"Semi?"

Hawkmoon cracked a hesitant grin. "I ain't telling you nothin'."

"That implies-"

"Whatever I want it to imply."

"Primus," Cyberwarp grumbled. "So... can I... can I ask about your people? Just - let's say - in the interest of understanding what I've gotten myself into. For the sake of fairness and understanding. Please? I won't pry into anything you don't want me to."

Hawkmoon hesitated. "Sure," she managed to blurt out through all the internal indecision - which she instantly regretted. "Shoot."

"What did, do, will, uh... humans look like?"

Hawkmoon sent her a still-pic memory fragment. Human civilians, streets of the Last City, all of it caught in the throes of the Revelry festival. With a couple of Awoken and a single Exo mixed in for good measure - because what was Banshee-44 if not always picturesque?

Cyberwarp blinked. "That's..."

"Yeah?"

"I know you said they were like us, but... wow."

"I know, right?" Hawkmoon agreed, dipping her helm. "It's almost unsettling. Can't decide if you're close to falling into that uncanny valley or not."

"That... mechanoform-"

"Exomind. And a... a friend."

"Oh." Cyberwarp glanced away. "That's what you... used to be?"

"Yeah."

"Were you a cyborg or fully-"

"Fully synthetic," Hawkmoon confirmed.

"What did you look like before you were... changed?"

"I..." Hawkmoon looked down at the patterned tablecloth, perplexed. "I don't know."

"You don't?"

"Do you ever really consider yourself in terms of how you look? I mean, sure, some people do - but looking in a mirror always made me nauseous. Before all this happened, anyways - the wings and such. Because it wasn't me, back before I jumped ship - it was just some frame cooked up by the Bray foundation to house the mind of a woman who just wanted to die."

"... 'Die'?" Cyberwarp repeated, the hush of her voice doing nothing to take away from her alarmed tone.

Hawkmoon realized her mistake far too late. She shrugged helplessly, cluelessly, to hide the racing turmoil within; she was an idiot, an idiot! "Not-me, first me, I don't think she was doing so well towards the end. I... Back to the point I was trying to make - some people never really consider themselves. Looking into a mirror; it's more like staring into the eyes of a stranger you only half-know. That's me, except the stranger walked out of my life a long time ago and never came back. I don't really know first-me, even how she looked. I don't care to."

That was a lie. She did care - because she had that morbid curiosity everyone got around the subject of death, and what was a more fascinating example of it than your own dead self? Hawkmoon was pretty sure she'd been short when she'd had flesh on her bones and sense in her life. Blond, maybe, or her hair was a light brown. Eyes - yeah, she had them. No idea what colour, though. The sunned skin that came natural to every Martian, saturated with deadly heat. A compact frame; she'd been a fighter. A soldier. Militant. SOLSECCENT, probably. Then took a one way trip to the Deep Stone Crypt, to be peeled apart body and mind by one last fatal brainscan and Clovis Bray's limitless ambitions. Reborn in factory-grey metal, to serve and be studied and live forever.

Died anyways, gutted like the rest of humanity by something beyond all scope of comprehension.

Raised all over again by an extraterrestrial god-like entity to a world on fire.

So… no, she didn't really know what she'd looked like. Nothing beyond a few little glimpses into a life she couldn't understand.

"How many times have you died?" Cyberwarp softly asked.

Now there was a question worth its salt.

Hawkmoon looked around, over the river and past it. The nightlife of Estrum was pretty great. There was music, terrific displays of art and acrobatics and more, a warm breeze falling over her sensitive wing-sensors and absolutely all of it was cast in a glittering dark blue night halfway illuminated by the ring above. The same ring partially shadowed over by Estrum itself. It was a fantastical sight to behold.

"Let's go have a look some more," Hawkmoon said, indicating.

"'Moon-"

"Don't make me drag you."

Cyberwarp sighed and followed her.

They stopped at a nearby plaza, halfway abandoned. There were Tai and suited Ameursh and Eecharik, gliding gracefully, moving with slow elegance in beat with the gentle music. A small, thin Meex bearing a feathered headdress led the band, playing with something like a cross between a harp and a spiderweb.

"Can you dance?" Hawkmoon asked.

"I... don't have those files downloaded," Cyberwarp sheepishly replied.

"It's nothing about files. Come on, I'll show you." Hawkmoon took her servo.

"'Moon, I don't-"

"It's about experience. We'll just do something slow. Here." Hawkmoon guided Cyberwarp's servos to her hips, placed her own on 'Warp's pauldrons, and guided them into a slow waltz. She could have broken out into something quicker, wilder, more impressive, but that might've scared the other femme off, so...

They got into a rhythm. Ignored what surprised looks and gasps and all else they garnered, focusing on each other - their own little world. Hawkmoon pressed her helm against Cyberwarp's own and offlined her optics.

This was good. This was enough to fill the gulf.

"You didn't answer my question," Cyberwarp whispered.

"I can't answer."

"Is it-"

"Because I've never gotten around to counting. I don't think I have the patience for it." Hawkmoon paused. "It's a big number."

"'Moon..."

"Don't do pity. Please. I don't play well with it."

Cyberwarp vented. "No pity, then. But what about love?"

"Not if you make it awkward or cheesy."

"I... don't understand. 'Cheesy?"

"Dramatic in a cheap, shallow way."

"Alright."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Okay, maybe I do lo-"

Cyberwarp kissed her. "Shut up," she murmured. "Stop making this 'cheesy'."

Hawkmoon huffed a laugh. They stayed like that for a time, close, clutching at one another, happy.

"That Verunlix of Úthaessel's, Presage One-Four - he said something. I've been thinking about it a while."

"'Warp," Hawkmoon groaned. She could feel her smile slipping.

"He said 'Never forget the face of your child'."

"'Warp, I'm not talking-" Hawkmoon sighed. "Does this feel inappropriate?"

"What do you mean?" Cyberwarp questioned, drawing her helm back.

"Us, doing this, trying to have fun."

Cyberwarp frowned."You're changing the subject."

"Don't ask me that question again, please. Leave it to die. I already have." The first-me's dead, and I'm pretty sure she had a kid and a wife and that they're the reason she even signed up to let Bray murder her. I'm too scared to find out any more, in case I turn out the same - just looking for a way to end.

"... Alright, alright. But… what do you mean, 'inappropriate'?"

"We came to deliver bad news to someone. Not this. And Nacelle's-"

"Doing what he feels is right. I think he enjoys helping people this way."

"He should've taken some psychiatric modules back home," Hawkmoon mused.

"I know." Cyberwarp hesitated. "Look, maybe we can call him, see if there's anything-"

Hawkmoon did just that. Pinged him a polite query.

And it didn't go through.

Which was strange, because their partial trine-bond was still there, still going strong, strong enough that she could feel he was in the same city with them, on the same world, and that he was doing alright. But her message to him didn't reach him. And all she heard in return was the growing, hissing cackle of a thousand throats wailing at once, spitting out of her comms unit.

Hawkmoon's optics onlined with an alarmed flash. "We're being jammed," she gasped, disengaging and stepping away - combat protocols activating.

"We're... what?" Cyberwarp questioned. "Hawkmoon-"

Somewhere above, a shooting green star flashed through the sky, under the ring and towards the glittering collection of lights belonging to an orbital arcology. Nothing happened for a moment.

Then the heavens filled with emerald fire.

AN: Huge thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!