Chapter 41
"Relic of bygone ages"
"My designation is Unit-3. Creative, I know. I'm Cybertronian, like you. Not a Seeker, obviously, but we share the same homeworld. I've never been to Vos, personally, and only ever met a couple of your people - but we're not so different, you and I. I'm a soldier too. Or I was. I had my war, I had my unit, I lost both. I know what-"
"I'm going to stop you there," Hawkmoon said lowly. "What you're doing is very thoughtful, but I don't care. Enough."
Unit-3, a small beastformer mech barely up to her elbow, gave her a look that was half defiant, half pleading. "Thunderhowl told me you lost your trine. And that you blame yourself."
Hawkmoon said nothing.
"I know what that's like. The guilt. The pain. You're not as alone as you think-"
"I am alone," Hawkmoon sharply retorted. "I have never been so alone."
"They cannot see me, but you do," Augur snorted. "Lie all you want, Seeker - but we both know the truth."
Hawkmoon stubbornly ignored him. She wished he would leave her be - but as of yet no dragon had pounced on her traitorous thoughts. The only time in her entire life to want a dragon to intervene, and... nothing. Not a single drake. It felt strangely disappointing.
Unit-3 held up his servos in surrender. "I'm just trying to help."
"I don't need help."
"Are you sure about that?"
"I don't want help," Hawkmoon clarified.
Unit-3 sighed. "I don't suppose I'm going to change your mind, am I?"
"What do you think?"
"Fine, fine." Unit-3 straightened up. Spared her a pitying look. "I do understand your pain, however, and I'm not alone in that. Most Krenshan initiates come from military backgrounds - veterans looking for a new reason to fight on. The other clans too. There could be a place here for you, as well. You're among-"
"What, friends?" Hawkmoon questioned incredulously.
"Something like that."
"Please get out. I don't want to get angry."
"Alright, alright..." Unit-3 walked to the door, muttering, "Seekers and their patience..." Then he stopped, perhaps realizing what he'd said, and turned around with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
Hawkmoon shut the door on him.
"That was unkind," Augur quipped, sat on the berth. He stretched out the mandibles of his lower jaw.
She rounded on him, snarling. "Do you seriously have nothing better to do?!"
"Indeed. I have nothing to do, Seeker. Nothing. And while you may only be of mild interest, it is an interest regardless."
"Get scrapped."
"You have not yet asked them."
"I don't want to know."
"You will be told regardless."
"Then let me be ignorant for a little while longer. Please."
"If that is your wish," he slyly said.
Hawkmoon braced her helm against the wall and vented a sigh. The ache was beginning to wear off, her system fighting to drive her back to full recovery - but inside she was a wreck. The pain there settled, lodged in her spark and actively refused to budge even an inch.
Cyberwarp was gone.
But Nacelle - Nacelle - was still out there. Arguably in a worse state. Hawkmoon... didn't know how to help him. She'd been there for the cleansing of Shuro Chi and Kalli, but Ikharos had led those rituals - and with Petra on call. She'd just kept the Taken back, paying the exorcism work no mind at all. She had no idea what to do.
He was gone.
And it pained her to know that that wasn't true - but it may as well have been.
"How the hell did we survive?" she muttered. "Out of everyone, why-"
"The wish, the dragon's will, the Emperor's dying hope and the Witch's mistake. And my own fair luck," Augur chirruped.
"You... you bit my hand."
"The beacon needed a living touch. I have neither life nor physical presence; I could not open the way. Only lead you to it."
Hawkmoon frowned and looked over at him. "What was that anyways? Something of your creation? Or... someone else's?"
"Another."
"The Progenitors?"
Augur cocked his head, ears perking up. "Indeed. They laid the ley-lines of the otherworld, the steps between space of matter and space of will - waystations for weary wanderers. Torches to line the midnight paths. Anchors from which to retrieve themselves from terrors abound. It was the first offence - one which our dearly departed Fiend took as a grave insult."
"Kharad-Tan."
"Yes."
"And then they... forced you into that realm?"
Augur laughed, mirthlessly. "Both! Wise Progenitors, the Gardener's Fieldhands - slim and veiled, ebony-pale, great of beauty! The Arch-Fiend, Gutturborn God, a child beaten and left to starve in the flesh-bartered slums - a tyrant of untold worlds, killer of stars, founder of Dark legions, the embodiment of savagery! They fought, they bled, they murdered and they warred. In a way, this war was love. The love of Kharad-Tan for a Speaking Woman. He hunted us for our eyes. They hid us away for our tongues, at her order. Now they are dead - and he remains. Left to wander and ruin forevermore in a vain search for her absent voice."
Hawkmoon blinked. "Excuse me?"
"He remains. This is a mistake that must be remedied."
"Yeah, I'm not hunting Kharad-Tan down. Good luck, though."
Augur grinned. "Perhaps not now. But we have time. We always have time."
She was on her way to the Axalon's cafeteria when Thunderhowl intercepted her - marching in that pointed, single-minded manner that just screamed I am displeased. The same way Zavala used to, when she'd come back from an off-the-books hit on Devils' supply depots.
"Unit-3 told me you sent him away," Thunderhowl began. "That you deemed his offer of aid unnecessary."
Hawkmoon spared him an annoyed look. "I don't need help."
"That's not true."
"Who are you to sa-"
"I am clan-chief," Thunderhowl barked. "I've seen more than my fair share of pups come and go. Your struggle is nothing new to us, Seeker."
"'Struggle'," Hawkmoon snorted. "Not the word I would've used. This pup is on her way out, so - don't bother."
"Suicide, then? It does not suit you."
"Yeah? How do you figure that?"
"I simply know," Thunderhowl retorted.
Hawkmoon rolled her optics. "Whatever happens, I'll be out of your servos before long."
"No."
The way he said it cracked her up. So... confidently. As if he had the force of will to switch out night for day, hot for cold.
"No," Thunderhowl repeated. Then he marched past, to the energon dispenser, drew a pair of cubes and filled them. He came back to hand her one. "I'd rather you don't."
"Why's that?" Hawkmoon drawled, smiling. Nastily. Because that was all she could manage, the only way she could assume some control.
"We permitted your formation to continue on to the Cyst Stars. Our mistake, and a stain on our honou-"
"Frag your honour."
A nearby crewmate, the one waiting for their turn at the dispenser, shot her a reprimanding look - but a glance from Thunderhowl kept the other beastformer from activating their vocalizer. They grimaced and moved on.
"You're lashing out," Thunderhowl observed.
Hawkmoon sneered. "What the frag do you care?"
"You look for a fight because that is all you know anymore. You fought a war. It has left its mark on you. If you continue as you are, I doubt you will see the quartex through. And that would be a waste of potential."
"Oh, 'potential'."
"Indeed."
"There's no potential where I'm going."
"Precisely. An early grave would ill-suit you."
"If this is your pep talk to... okay, what is this pep talk about?" Hawkmoon demanded. "To keep me from offing?"
Thunderhowl gave her an unamused look. "In part."
"In part?"
"Let him speak," Augur chided. "I want to hear what he has to say."
Hawkmoon briefly shot the Verunlix an annoyed look before refocusing on Thunderhowl.
The mech straightened up. "Your designation is Hawkmoon."
"Yeah."
"You are the one Longhorn vouched for."
Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "'Vouched' for? The Pit does that mean?"
"He was quite taken with you."
"Ah. I see. Well, hugely sorry," Hawkmoon snarked, "but I don't roll that way. Or roll in general anymore. My trine just fraggin' died, yeah? See how that might put a damper on things?"
Thunderhowl didn't so much as blink. "That was not what I meant."
"Oh, go on then."
"You're angry. We should continue this discussion another time."
"No no, you've got me interested now. Please - enlighten me."
"If that is what you want. Do you understand what we are?"
"Beastformers. Flesh-lovers."
Thunderhowl raised an optical ridge. It was terrifying. "We are clan. We are Krenshan. We are kin - bonded through spark and tradition. Entry is no easy thing to come by."
"Ohhhh, I see. So Longhorn's holding the door open to your little play-club?" Hawkmoon shook her helm. "Not interested."
"You would rather return to Cybertron?"
"I'd rather rot than do anything right now."
"And yet..." Thunderhowl pointedly looked at the energon cube in her hand.
Hawkmoon scowled. "I'm running on automatic. Living just because it's all I can do."
"No. You are capable of so much more. What you're currently doing is no more than languishing in grief and self-hatred."
"... Mmmm-yeah, that's about the gist of it."
"You don't want to change that?"
Hawkmoon sighed. "I've done this song and dance before. I think I've finally learned my lesson."
Thunderhowl paused. "I see."
"I'm... not interested in making friends anymore. It just leads to more..." Hawkmoon looked away. "Sorry, but no. I'm not interested."
"We don't have to be your friends," Thunderhowl said suddenly - catching her off guard. "You can hate us, even, if that is your sole desire. But I would rather you live. I would rather your spirit be turned towards other ventures."
"What, you think I'm actually going to kill myself?"
"Yes."
Hawkmoon grunted. "At least you're honest," she muttered.
"Death is the easy escape," Augur hissed warningly, "but not for us. We cannot leave it to chance."
She ignored him. "So what do these other 'ventures' entail?"
Thunderhowl shrugged. "You could fight. You could hunt. You could read. You could pray. You could leave and sail between the stars. You could return to Vos and warn them about what you saw."
"I should do that, shouldn't I?"
"Certainly. In time." Thunderhowl paused. "You could inform me, and I could pass the knowledge on to Cybertron and the colonies. Warn them to steer away from the Cyst Stars."
"So you won't actually bring me home?"
His faceplates softened, then. "Most of my clan were drifters and runaways before taking to the lessons I taught them. They found a new home. We all did. Home is not where one comes from - but where one chooses to be. And, I think you will agree, it makes all the difference."
Hawkmoon... considered it. It left her with a puzzled outlook.
"You don't have to choose now. Think on what we have discussed. Find another purpose to build your life towards."
"Hard, that."
"I know. I know, I do. I've lost brothers and sisters of my own in wars past. But we have to go on. For them."
For them.
Hawkmoon shuttered her optics. She saw Cyberwarp's faceplates. Her injury. Nacelle - features petrified beneath the veneer of Taken energy. Stolen away.
For them, Thunderhowl had said. For them.
It wasn't for them she'd live, Hawkmoon concluded. She couldn't bear to think about them. It stung too much. No. Not for them, not for the gentle Tai or supportive Úthaessel. Not for the kindred-spirit of Oor'un'xu or all the others of the Protectorate. No. She hungered for vengeance, oh yes, but... she already had too much to avenge. Gecko. Herself. Her reality, torn away. Now an entire alien conglomerate?
No, she couldn't possibly carry on for them. Kill for them, maybe, but not carry on.
But everyone else to come?
That, possibly, was something she could feasibly manage.
The only real issue was that she was finding it damned hard to care in the first place.
She braced her wings against the wall. It felt... rough. Uncomfortable. A reminder that I'm still here, I'm still here, I'm still here and I'm still like this.
"Why can no one else see you?" Hawkmoon asked on a whim, plucking the question out of her processor just for the sake of filling in the silence.
Augur glanced at her, curled up by the end of the berth. "This is a place of matter and causal life," he murmured, laying his head down on his paws. "I have no cause to exert any conceivable presence in this core plane. I have no matter to speak of. My life has crossed a threshold - and I will never be able to retread those steps again."
"What Narkasa did-"
"Erased me. Erased what little of myself remained... here." He looked at her. "You are unique. A medium for energies unorthodox. You are receptive to forces beyond the mortal limits of cause-and-effect. A vessel for the impossible."
"But... why, exactly, can I-"
"Because I willed it. And in the gulf between reality-as-is and reality-as-desired... where there is a will, there is a way." Augur flashed her a grin. It didn't last long. "You are my way. The last way available to me."
"Pit," Hawkmoon harrumphed, "you really must be desperate."
"My people have been physically extinct since before your steel-winged city was ever founded, Seeker. We have waited for an eternity, disembodied in the otherworld and entombed in the real world. We never wanted this. We never welcomed this. What we are is beyond mere desperation."
"Are you planning to do what I did?" she asked softly, falling perfectly still as the realization hit her. "Hijack a body?"
Augur snorted. Closed his eyes. "If only it were so easy."
"Then what are you doing with me?"
"Hoping."
"For?"
Augur didn't reply.
"So... you willed this. Desperate. You're planning something, obviously," Hawkmoon mused. "And I don't like that. I mean - does this will-thing extend to... Oh."
Augur lazily opened one eye. "Yes?"
"You willed it."
"I did."
"But... Okay, I'm not familiar with all this, but if that place was between reality-as-is and reality-as-desired, surely there has to be influence from both - and yet this thing you've got going, to me, looks like a clean process. Willpower alone."
"Do go on."
"You had yourself a helping hand, didn't you?" Hawkmoon accused. "You... must have made a wish."
"Go to sleep, Seeker," Augur yawned. "Your next day - orn, is it? - will require that you be well-rested."
"What do you mean?"
But the Augur had nodded off. As far as she was aware, anyways. Hawkmoon wasn't sure he needed to sleep in the first place; wasn't that a physical process? A necessity of the physical body, not... not the consciousness - but there he went, proving her wrong. Or trying to trick her into believing she was wrong.
Hawkmoon scowled and laid back. She simply didn't have the patience to deal with his scrap.
Fragging fox.
Thunderhowl came by to collect her.
"Where are we going?" Hawkmoon asked with a frown. She peered past him, to the corridor beyond - and found it empty.
"Follow," the mech said again. Walked away.
Hawkmoon rolled her optics and marched after him. Augur ran after them, leapt onto her arm and clambered up onto her pauldron like a Traveler-damned cat. She tried rolling her shoulder, but he clung to her like a bad smell. The only reason she refrained from snapping at him was, well... to avoid earning that 'glitched' label - at least any further than she already had.
"Where are we going?" she asked again.
Thunderhowl didn't say anything. Just jotted in the pass code to a door, stepped aside and indicated inside. Hawkmoon gingerly stepped within - and found her confidence when she was greeted with a wide, sparse, brightly-lit room with a couple other mecha already inside. Not focusing on her, not at all - more preoccupied with each other. More accurately: whacking each other about.
"A sparring chamber," Thunderhowl helpfully explained.
Hawkmoon looked at him. "Why?"
"Hm?"
"Why... why this?"
"Anger needs an outlet. Grief too. If all you know is how to live, how to fight, then it may do you some good to fall back on the familiar."
"So you want me to... what? Hit someone?"
"If you would."
Hawkmoon frowned. "There's something else to this, isn't there?"
"Oh yes," Thunderhowl said with a nod. "I want to know if Longhorn was telling a long tale or the truth."
"So you - yeah, you just want me to beat someone up."
"That's putting it crudely, but yes."
"Counterpoint: can I pass on getting hit?" another mech piped up. One of the closer mecha, leaning against the wall next to them and polishing a blade. Jetstorm, Hawkmoon recognized. "'Cause I don't want to get slagged. I think it would be detrimental, actually, what with all the good work I do around here. So much good work."
"Are you volunteering?" Thunderhowl challenged.
"It's like you just completely ignored... No. No I'm not volunteering."
"Then be quiet," Thunderhowl sternly scolded. "I've not yet made my decision."
"Yes sir," Jetstorm grumbled. He shot her a knowing grin, though. Good luck, he mouthed.
"Does it have to be a person?" Hawkmoon questioned. "Could I not just... get a punching bag? Something inanimate? Or a stress ball - I'd really like a stress ball."
"I'd appreciate it if you demonstrated your ability to fend for yourself," Thunderhowl replied. "Just give me an idea of what you're capable of."
"So no stress ball?"
"Those are the squishy things you squeeze, right?" Jetstorm wondered aloud. "If they're going then I want one too. Primus knows I need it."
"What the Pit would you need it for?" Hawkmoon questioned, a little sharper than she intended.
"Oh, you know - recon and the like," Jetstorm explained with a shrug. "Not many flying Krenshans about, so... it's all work, work, work."
"Is that so?" Hawkmoon looked back at Thunderhowl. "Trying to poach yourself another flyer? Right after she's lost her trine? Mech, that's low."
Thunderhowl didn't look amused. "My offer was always that - an offer. Take it or leave it, Seeker."
"Oh, I'm definitely considering my options, no need to warn me."
"As am I. Torca!"
One of the sparring mechs paused, tossed his partner aside and straightened up. He. Was. Massive. The biggest Cybertronian - or at least Cybertronian-descended - robot she'd ever seen. He was half again her height, and covered in heavy techo-organic armoured plating both a dark blue and a sandy tan colour. Two long tusks jutted out on either side of his neck and jabbed up into the air. "Sir?"
Thunderhowl gestured to Hawkmoon.
"Oh. Hi." Torca walked over. Hawkmoon didn't know how the entire ship didn't shake with every booming step. "You're the Seeker. Uh... Eagle-moon."
"Hawkmoon," she corrected.
"Ah. Right. Sorry."
"It's... fine." Hawkmoon shot Thunderhowl an incredulous look. "You can't be serious."
"Deadly so," Thunderhowl retorted.
"You're insane."
"I'm only curious. No one is forcing your hand."
"You told me anger needs an outlet. I was imagining something with... I don't know, less blunt force trauma?"
"Trauma?" Torca rumbled worriedly. "Uuuuh, you should probably talk to Seawing about that. Or Unit-3."
"I'm with the Seeker on this," Jetstorm hesitantly cut in. "Her frame's only just starting to piece itself together - so... wouldn't throwing her into the ring be a bad thing?"
"Torca," Thunderhowl said, completely ignoring them. "Are you up for training with a new partner?"
"Sure? But who am-... Oh." Torca looked down at her, looking a little confused. "But birds are delicate. I don't want to hurt her."
"Okay, nevermind," Hawkmoon grumbled. Augur jumped down. "I'm in."
Jetstorm blinked. "That was quick."
She shrugged. "Pride and all that."
"Oh right."
"Splendid." Thunderhowl clasped his servos together. "Torca, would you-"
"Yes sir." Torca turned about and lumbered back to the sparring pad. His former opponent, a femme with a pair of vestigial alien limbs on her back as oversized kibble, offered Thunderhowl a respectful bow before vacating her position. Hawkmoon took it up, spark thrumming.
Just like tackling any old Colossus, she told herself. He doesn't even have a slug-thrower. You're good for this.
Her thrusters burned at her back, wings tilting, and she clenched her servos into fists. Bent her knees. Kept her chin ducked, and her optics - optics trained on Torca's faceplates. She let them rove over his frame, instinctively searching out the twitching of muscles that weren't there, but his head had most of her attention. The eyes were first to betray someone. Always.
Optics were no different.
There was no ringing of a bell, no shouting to start - they could go when they were good and ready, and Hawkmoon waited for it.
Torca's optics narrowed by a fraction.
She noticed the left pauldron shifting.
Flew over it, darted towards Torca's helm, jabbed a knee into his faceplates and rolled around him. Her servos found his tusks, held them still, away from her, and her heels dug in to the plating where his shoulder blades should have been.
He struggled. Grunted. Tried to reach for her. Bucked violently when he realized he couldn't.
Hawkmoon held on. Held tight. Waited. Not for him to tire, but slip up. Cybertronians, like Cabal, had endurance in spaces. That extended to her as well, funnily enough. Perhaps not as much, given how energy-hungry her frame was, but all the same-
He tipped forward, near stumbling.
Her thrusters powered up, angled just right, and she tugged his tusks, leading him over that edge. Torca made a panicked sound as he fell flat onto his faceplates. Hawkmoon let go, kicked away, and landed gracefully. Turned to Thunderhowl. "How's that?"
He tilted his helm. Glanced past her. Hawkmoon turned around - and was met with a wall of steel hurtling towards her. The blow spun her around, knocked her over, left her rattled. Hawkmoon's vision swam before her, distorting the dull grey of the mat below. Some spongy material, reinforced. Dimpled where her digits pressed down onto it.
She bit out a mumbled curse, pushed herself up, and activated the Tai-built shield-generator in her system - the one loaned by Ikitri and his crew for the Vahlu battle, Solar-based and starship-grade. It lit up and frazzled when Torca's second punch clapped against her side, but it staved the strike off. Long enough for her to drive the top of her helm against his face. Torca blinked. Stepped back. Swayed a little. Left her with a splitting headache, or processorache rather, but-
Another right hook shattered the shield. Hawkmoon ducked under the next to follow, flattening her wings against her back, and seethed; a brawl was entirely not what she had in mind. She backed away, to the edge of the circle. Torca followed, coming at her with his arms outstretched. Hawkmoon feinted a rise, then shot towards his leg. Her servos unfurled, and her next strike involved jabbing her claws into the place where the protective steel plates separated. Her talons hit something, something quite possibly delicate, and she pulled.
Torca yelled hoarsely and toppled over - outside the circle. He kicked her away with a wild desperation, armour flaring out in warning.
"There," Hawkmoon snapped, beating a retreat. Glared at Thunderhowl. "I win."
"Behind you," Augur warned with uncharacteristic urgency.
Hawkmoon rolled her optics. "Would you stay dow- argh!"
Torca, faceplates contorted into a snarl, grabbed her wing, pulled her around and tossed her against the wall - hard. Something in her chassis jostled, painfully - to say nothing of how her wing felt. Hawkmoon spent a whole precious second trying to get her bearings, noticed the giant mech marching towards her, his plating standing on end and digits curled tightly against his palms.
Augur leapt at him, jaws agape, and sunk his shadowy teeth on the exposed workings of Torca's injured knee. The mech staggered and cried out. For all intents and purposes it looked as if a couple of the joint's core pistons had buckled and snapped, strained to the limit. Torca collapsed to his other knee, one servo falling to cradle the broken components. Augur darted back, appearing smugly satisfied.
She gave no more thought to the matter, though, and diverted her attention towards ending their squabble for good. Her thrusters roared and her kneepad caught Torca under the chin just as he craned his helm up to look at her. He rocked backwards, falling on his back, and Hawkmoon was on him in an instant, raining down blow after blow against his helm - hammering the fight out of him. Her fury - it reached a peak and her arm's wrist-blade engaged practically on automatic - and that was when Thunderhowl intervened.
His servo caught around her arm, just above her elbow. "Enough!"
Hawkmoon pushed herself up and shook him off. "Tell him that!"
Thunderhowl scowled. Shoved her aside. "You have no restraint!"
"Restraint's for cowards," Hawkmoon retorted - spitting out a globule of glowing energon. "Restraint gets you killed."
"Quiet!" Thunderhowl growled. He held her back and checked Torca over. "Can you hear me?"
Torca groaned.
"Jetstorm, get Seawing."
"On it!" the green-and-orange mech yipped, already in the midst of racing out the door.
"Toraizer," Thunderhowl continued. He glanced at Hawkmoon, then the other femme. "Escort her to her quarters. Don't let her leave."
"Yes sir."
Hawkmoon clenched her jaw and looked away. "Fine."
Back to her room, empty and quiet except for a ghostly little fox that followed her everywhere she went. Hawkmoon sat by the berth and felt her wing over, pressing out the dents where Torca had grabbed it as best she could. It smarted, fiercely, and she grumbled under a breath that wasn't there.
Up until Augur nudged her leg with his snout.
"What?" Hawkmoon snapped.
"You lost," the Verunlix said simply, unfazed.
"I'm sorry, did you see the other guy?"
"He cornered you. Only my intervention spared you a humiliating defeat."
"Yeah yeah," Hawkmoon snorted, "you keep on believing that."
"You followed imaginary rules. Combat has none. That is why you lost."
"I know, you fragger. I know how to fight, thank you very much."
"You do," Augur acknowledged. "You know how to survive. You know how to run."
"Excuse m-"
"But you don't know how to live free of consequence."
"Yeah?" Hawkmoon flicked a digit at him. Augur darted out of the way and hissed at her. "We embracing anarchy now? Is that it?"
"Anarchy is all there is to existence. Order is an imaginary construct."
"That's a lovely observation. You done?"
Augur growled. "You applied rules to your duel. Rules these strange-kin of yours do not follow. You nearly failed their test."
"And what's that?" Hawkmoon sardonically asked. "To lose? Gracefully? I don't do that."
"To realize freedom carries weight."
Hawkmoon frowned. "What freedom? Freedom from the Hive's clutches? From that... whatever thing that attacked us, killed your people, that uh-"
"Student."
"Student?"
"A disciple of something else," Augur said irritably. "It matters not."
"No no, freedom from what? My trine? Caring about others? Duty?"
"You'll never escape your duty."
Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "And what is my 'duty', exactly? I don't think you're referring to my job as an Energon Seeker, right?"
Augur lifted his vulpine head. "Vengeance."
"So - killing that bastard Xol?"
"Not only."
"Look, if this is another plea for me to hunt down your ol' buddy Kharad-Tan, I'm not interested." Hawkmoon offlined her optics. Sighed. "You can leave, y'know. You probably should. Find another vessel, host, ship, whatever. I'm not budging on this. I'm not. He screwed us over, sure, and big time at that, but I've got no inclination towards putting a bullet in his head just yet."
"I have no choice, Seeker."
"Tough luck. See? We can both play at being stubborn."
"No," Augur said softly, unhappily. "I play at necessity. What you cling to is pride."
Hawkmoon raised her servos. "Guilty as charged. Deal with it. Don't come barreling into my life if you can't handle not having your hands on the reins twenty-four seve-"
The door slid open. Hawkmoon assumed a cold, haughty expression as Thunderhowl stepped inside.
"That was..." he started to say.
"How did I hold up?" Hawkmoon snarked. "Pass your expectations?"
Thunderhowl's faceplates hardened. "Seekers make excellent soldiers, but poor fighters. You broke the mold, yes, but that doesn't mean-"
"Nevermind that I downed a mech three times my weight and almost twice my height. Nevermind that I had him dead to rights."
"Exactly. Therein lies my utmost concern. You have no control." Thunderhowl gestured behind him, aggressively. "That was a sparring match. Practice. Exercise. You almost killed him. You almost killed Torca - a good mech."
"So back to Cybertron with me?" Hawkmoon angrily quipped.
"... No." Thunderhowl grimaced. "Primus no. You need help, Seeker, and Cybertron would only tear you apart. I know what the homeworld is like. I know what Vos is like. They'd destroy you, unintentionally or no. I... only misinterpreted the kind of help you need."
"I don't want your help!" Hawkmoon yelled, falling back on fury. It was easier than... everything else. That burning sensation of rage - it blotted out all of life's other complications beautifully. "I don't need your fragging sympathy, your pity, your... your attempts at teaching me better. I already know how to live. I've survived this long!"
"There's more to life than survival," Thunderhowl shot back.
Hawkmoon laughed without humour. "Yeah - for people luckier than me. Survival's all I get. I know what happens when I aim higher - and trust me, I have no intention of trying it ever again."
"You are a sad thing, Seeker."
"I have a name."
"Hawkmoon, then. You may not like it, but you are something to be pitied. I pity you. You cannot stop me from doing that."
"But I can ask you to leave me the frag alone," Hawkmoon bitterly reminded him.
Thunderhowl paused. "You can. If that is what you want, simply tell me. The Axalon is a large ship; should you want it, you need never lay your optics on my faceplates ever again. You can refuel at our stronghold and make your way to Freeport Azal. Live as a vagabond. Or die. The choice, Hawkmoon, is yours."
"You're serious?"
"I rarely jest and I never lie."
Hawkmoon sneered. "What makes you think I'll choose anything other than leaving?"
"Because-" Thunderhowl knelt beside her "-you want to be helped."
"Oh? And you can tell that how?"
Thunderhowl shrugged. "I just can."
"Get scrapped," Hawkmoon bit out.
"Inevitably. Such is the fate of all of Primus' creations, given enough time."
Hawkmoon looked away.
They stayed like that, for a time. Caught in a curiously tense silence - waiting for her bravado to break.
"This is... this is home," Cyberwarp said quietly.
They stood outside a place. Tower apartment. Like Sunburst's, but a different part of the city. Lower down floor-wise too.
"It's nice?" Hawkmoon managed. Swatted at the crow-eagle incessantly pecking at her neck. "Stop that. It hurts."
"Well, you could at least try."
Hawkmoon blinked, glanced back at Cyberwarp. "Uh, sorry, uh... it's better than any place I've lived, I'm not judging here."
"Oh. I thought you were... nevermind." Cyberwarp glanced ahead - at the door.
Hawkmoon snorted. "I'm not that vindictive."
"No, I know you aren't." Cyberwarp smiled, looked at her and kissed her cheek. "Shall we?"
"Let's."
They rang the bell - or, more accurately, pinged the apartment's security system to say "Hey, we're outside, mind if we come in?"
The door opened up. A mech, young, looked out at them with raised optical ridges. "'Warp?"
"Gateway!" Cyberwarp laughed, surged forth and caught the mechling up in a crushing embrace. "I've missed you so much!"
"Me too, let- argh!" Gateway squirmed out of her grip, grinning widely, and peeked around her. "Who's that? New Institute buddy?"
Cyberwarp stepped back, took Hawkmoon's servo and said fondly, "This is Hawkmoon. We're, ah..."
"Ohhhh. Right." Gateway nodded with sage understanding. "I'm telling Dawnblaze."
He disappeared inside.
"Wait, I want to be the one to-" Cyberwarp ran in after him.
Hawkmoon shared a look with Rook.
He pecked her on the forehead.
"Ow, little prick." Hawkmoon poked him on the chest. He squawked a complaint. "See? How do you like it?"
She walked in after Cyberwarp. Rook sullenly settled down.
Hawkmoon sulked. Drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. Allowed her head to loll back against the edge of the berth.
"Fine," she ground out. "Fiiine. I... I want to live. And... I want... your... help."
"Why?"
Because I'd otherwise return to them in pieces - and the second I try to tell my girlfriend's family that she died helping me, I'll fall apart.
"Because I want to kill every last one of them," Hawkmoon muttered, optics flashing.
Thunderhowl made a pained face. "Vengeance is an ugly thing-"
"It's all I have left!"
"-but it's not ignoble. If there is justice in it, I won't stand in your way."
Hawkmoon blinked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," Thunderhowl said with a solemn nod.
"... Thank you." Hawkmoon hesitated. "How's… How's, uh, Torca?"
Thunderhowl shrugged. "Alive. Functional. Confused."
"Confused? Really?"
"As I said, Seekers are not... do not rank highly in our optics. Not for the way we fight. I know your worth myself, having seen your people wage war - and it is a terrifying thing, certainly, but grounded? Confined? A Seeker's worth is in the air, with space to move. You are... different, in that respect."
"Guess I've just got the right kind of experience," Hawkmoom murmured.
"Perhaps. The right instinct can make or break a warrior. And with you - I respect what I see. You have the skills of a killer. All you need do is hone it into a more controlled shape." Thunderhowl straightened up. "We're still some orns out from the Holdfast, Hawkmoon. I trust you'll have your decision made by time we arrive."
He left her be. Left her to make her choice alone.
Alone save for the fox on the dresser, regarding her with a thoughtful gaze.
"What?" Hawkmoon grumbled, lip curling.
"Your fortune has turned yet again. You have been offered a second chance," Augur remarked. "A springboard with which to leap back into the hunt, your strength replenished."
"For Xol," Hawkmoon warned. "For Oryx. For Savathûn. You can pursue the Tenerjiin alone."
"I am never alone," Augur replied. He curled up, tucking his paws underneath him, and covered his eyes over with one of his three tails.
Hawkmoon sniffed and ignored him - him and his smarmy little statements, trying to act all wise and better-than-thou.
Her choice to make. Not his.
Never his.
They finally docked at the Krenshan Holdfast after another five straight orns of warp-travel. The Axalon slipped into an alcove set within one of the five spires crowning the space installation, engaging docking clamps and powering down on all thrusters. The airlocks were connected with loading bays, and the non-essential crew were permitted to disembark while the remaining mecha settled the frigate down. Hawkmoon lingered beyond the crowd of boisterous beastformers, looking for Thunderhowl or Jetstorm, just a familiar set of faceplates - and found herself in front of, of all mecha, Torca.
The giant mech looked down at her. Thoughtfully. At least she assumed so.
"Seeker," he said.
Hawkmoon tensed.
"Sorry for pulling your wing. I got a little carried away."
Hawkmoon blinked. "Uh... okay?"
Torca nodded. Glanced away. Looked back at her. "You can throw a punch," he said, and stepped around her. Waded through the throngs of Krenshans and disembarked without another word.
Hawkmoon watched him go, not a little dumbstruck. "Huh."
"Seeker!" Thunderhowl called to her. He marched down an adjoining corridor, flanked by Seawing. The other mech offered her a respectful nod before passing her by.
Hawkmoon rolled her optics. "I have a-"
"Hawkmoon, apologies." Thunderhowl marched past. Hawkmoon picked up the pace to keep even. They strolled through the airlock after the main crowd, entered the station proper and wandered into where the loading bay gave way to a massive corridor that diverged into three separate hallways - each large enough for a mech three times Torca's size to comfortably walk through. Most of the beastformers took to the left one.
"The mess hall," Thunderhowl explained. "We don't stand much on ceremony for these things - rescue missions or exploratory outings. Any kin and kith awaiting our return will be there - though I don't foresee much celebrating in their future. At least for the time being."
"Because I'm the only one you found," Hawkmoon darkly remarked.
"I'm pleased we found any of your formation at all," Thunderhowl murmured. He stopped. "I'd feared we would find nothing - no Seekers, living or dead, and no answers as to why."
"'Least you got something, I suppose," Hawkmoon grumbled. Averted her optics.
One of Thunderhowl's servos fell on her pauldron. It took all her resolve not to shrug it off. "You have value. Any and every child of Primus is worth saving."
I'm not a child of Primus, she almost said. Instead, Hawkmoon spared him a wordless nod.
"That way is the mess hall," Thunderhowl repeated, gesturing to the left hallway - then to the middle. "And that ends with a mass elevator system leading to the habitation sector."
"What about that," Hawkmoon asked, jutting her helm towards the right hall.
Thunderhowl narrowed his optics into a studying look. "The guest suites."
For outsiders, he was saying. For those outside the clan.
That there was her ultimatum. Choose now or never.
Hawkmoon had never been all that concerned with clans. Her Fireteam had been enough. Their network of friends too - but no official grouping to tie them all together. They'd never organized themselves like that. Never had any inclination to. It had only ever just been her, Ikharos and Jaxson against the world. With Gecko, Xiān and Ghost to boot. Six voices. A family, founded in luck. Then... when that had been taken from her, Cyberwarp and Nacelle and Rook. Northwind, Skydive and Quell, if one counted an extended found family. Another six voices - plus a bird.
There were a whole lot more than six Krenshans.
Augur brushed by her pedes, circling around her legs. He looked up at her. Expectantly. Anticipating that she would say yes.
She almost refused on that basis alone.
But...
The alternative was Cybertron. Vos. She needed to tell them - the Institute, Iacon, anyone who listened - as much as she dared, to warn them, to deliver news of... of what had befallen the others. What had happened to the Taishibethi and their Protectorate. That was her duty.
And she couldn't see it through. She couldn't.
What she needed was an excuse. One to keep her away from the homeworld. Away from...
Just away.
"Is there a place I can set up?" Hawkmoon asked, jutting her helm towards the middle hall. "Or do I have to sign something first?"
Thunderhowl smiled.
AN: Huge thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!