He needed to think.

Bluestreak spent the next hour wandering the corridors of the Ark. He went down to the weapons locker, intending to disassemble and clean his rifle, but Sideswipe and Ironhide were already there working on their own weapons. Their raucous laughter chased Bluestreak away before he even stepped inside the door.

The rec room was full of mechs watching Saturday Night Live, and the mess hall was just as crowded. Even just walking around the Ark, aimlessly moving from room to room, Bluestreak kept running into mechs who wanted to stop and talk. Normally Bluestreak would have been happy to talk to any of them, but not tonight.

He needed to think.

Eventually, he left the Ark completely. He pinged his intentions to Teletraan 1 ("recreational drive"), waved to Huffer and Cliffjumper as he passed the exterior sentry position, and drove off into the night.

The dark sky was crystal clear, and Bluestreak found himself climbing the muddy switchback trail that rose into the mountains above the Ark entrance. Finally, he stopped and clambered up a rocky slope to the secluded overlook that he and Hound had discovered a few years previously.

Bluestreak sat on the edge of the cliff, letting his pedes dangle over the edge. He looked out over the valley below the Ark. He watched the strange constellations wheel slowly overhead. He thought about what he'd been told.

So.

He was really a Decepticon. Or rather, he'd started out as one. And he was really a seeker. Or rather, that was the frametype he'd been forged with.

Prowl had known all of this all along. Prowl, who Bluestreak had thought was his old lover. Prowl, who he'd considered his closest friend (after Hound). Prowl, who he'd looked up to and trusted.

Prowl had known.

Prowl had lied to him, misled him, and manipulated him. Looking back at his career in the Autobots, it was so easy to see all of the times that Prowl had laid his finger on the scale and tipped the direction of Bluestreak's path in the direction he wanted it to go.

Prowl had stood before him, with door wings tipped downwards in the most apologetic stance Bluestreak had ever seen him take, and apologized. But Bluestreak couldn't even fathom being angry at Prowl for all that he'd done to him. He was beyond angry.

He was simply and utterly disillusioned.

Bluestreak's comm pinged at him, and he accepted the static message from Jazz. ::I figured ya wouldn't want to hear from Prowl about now, so I'm sendin' this on his behalf. This is all the info on what was done to ya. It's all still classified, technically, but Prowl thought you should know all of it. And he said the information is yours to do with as ya wish. Oh, and I've also included a few things I've snagged from the 'Cons that ya might find interesting.:: Attached to the comm was a packet of data.

Bluestreak opened the packet and flipped through the files. They started with a summary of the project, and then the first report of the "candidate spark." The spark that was his.

Candidate spark recovered in Praxus, Quartz District, search quadrant Gamma 519 on 1352.02.3955.59.
Candidate is Decepticon seeker, likely shot down by Praxian Civil Defense Corp anti-aircraft fire. Spark located in critical condition. Stabilized by recovery team, transported to Iacon General Hospital. Official identification performed after return to Iacon. New identity files drafted.

Bluestreak flipped through a few more reports about his spark being seated in a new casing, getting it to unite with the frame they'd provided, and pairing a processor with his spark. A note was attached to one of the reports once his spark was accepted by the frame and the processor. Huge success! the note read, from a scientist named Mesothulas. It is hard to overstate my satisfaction with this result.

Bluestreak switched to another file inside the packet; this one had all of the information that Jazz had been able to collect about Thunderbolt of Vos. Inside that file were a few photos, all labeled with Thunderbolt's designation. Thunderbolt had a classic seeker frame, painted in blue and silver with yellow trim. His wings were wide, and his dark face was framed by the broad intake vents common to all seekers. The first photo he saw was of Thunderbolt standing at attention alongside other seekers, all of them with Decepticon brands on their wings.

Another photo looked like it had been taken pre-war, in which Thunderbolt stood next to a rotary frame. Bluestreak realized it was a photo of him and Vortex.

They both looked so happy. Thunderbolt was leaning on Vortex's shoulder, and they both looked like they were laughing at some hilarious joke. Thunderbolt's broad and easy smile looked eerily familiar. With a jolt, Bluestreak realized that he saw that same smile anytime someone took a photo of him smiling now.

But no matter how long he looked at the images, all of them made Bluestreak feel as if he was looking at a stranger.

He sat on the overlook, alternating between reading the files Jazz had sent him and staring out over the dark valley. Off in the distance he could see headlights from vehicles on the human highway. When the moon set, the gauzy veil of the galaxy spread out over him.

He felt terribly alone.

About two hours before dawn, Hound pinged him. The green mech had woken from recharge to find Bluestreak missing from the berth. ::Blue! How long have you been up? You didn't have another nightmare, did you?::

Bluestreak smiled up at the stars upon hearing Hound's voice. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear a friendly voice. ::No. I just needed to think about some... stuff.::

Hound's tone became tinged with concern. ::Are you all right? Was it something Vortex did? I thought you said he didn't do anything to you.::

::He didn't. It was something he said. And... something Prowl did.:: Bluestreak thought about how the Jeep always had a friendly smile and wise words when he needed them. If he was going to tell anyone else about his secret, he was going to have to tell Hound. ::I'm outside, on our overlook. Can you come here? I'd rather have this conversation in person.::

Hound pinged an acceptance. With a soft sigh of both relief and trepidation, Bluestreak leaned back on his hands to wait.

It was only about ten minutes before he saw Hound's headlights climbing the last hill to the cutoff for their overlook. Hound could go much further on the rough ground than Bluestreak could, but even he needed to transform to climb the last few meters. He settled to the ground next to Bluestreak and looked up at the night sky. "So many stars out tonight!" Hound said quietly. When Bluestreak nodded, Hound looked over at him, and covered one of Bluestreak's hands with his. "So... What's up, Blue?"

"I'm going to just unload all of this, ok? And I need you to just listen until I'm done." When Hound nodded in understanding, Bluestreak pulled a full vent of air and began to tell Hound what had happened.

From the moment of their capture the previous day to the ping that Hound had given him just a while earlier, Bluestreak told Hound everything that had happened. How he and Sunstreaker had gotten themselves captured. How he found himself drawn to Vortex, even though he knew what a horror he'd been to his Autobot friends. How he'd told Vortex how beautiful he was, and how Vortex had reacted. The spark scan, Vortex's claim about who Bluestreak really was, the rescue, waking up and hacking into the datanet, discovering the discrepancies in his record, Jazz taking him to the Prime's office, and Prowl's confession. He explained who he really was, and what he'd really done before Praxus. He told Hound how he'd been taken off active duty for the time being, and how he was supposed to take time to consider his next steps.

When Bluestreak finally ran out of words, he didn't dare look at Hound. His lover had stayed quiet through the whole story, not commenting or asking questions. He just listened. Hound's hand was still covering Bluestreak's, and it was warm. After a full minute of silence, Hound's fingers traced small circles on the back of Bluestreak's hand, and he finally spoke. "That's... a lot," Hound said.

"I know. Which is why I'm up here. I needed to let it all sink in," Bluestreak said. He hazarded a look at Hound, but the Jeep's optics were fixed on the stars.

"That's understandable." Hound asked quietly. He continued gently rubbing circles on Bluestreak's hand. "You must feel like your entire life has been upended."

"Yeah." Bluestreak blew another vent of air. "And... knowing all of the slag that Mirage got a few years ago, when everyone suspected him of being a Decepticon spy... Please don't tell anyone." He worked his intake, trying to picture himself at the receiving end of the bullying that poor Mirage had received, mostly from Cliffjumper. It had taken Optimus himself reading the riot act to the worst of the offenders to finally kill that particular rumour.

"I won't. I promise," Hound said. His fingers finally curled around and under Bluestreak's, giving them a gentle squeeze. "But why are you telling me in the first place?"

"Because. It was only fair that you know you've been crossing cables with a Decepticon," Bluestreak said. He wasn't able to remove the quaver from his words before they left his vocalizer.

He heard Hound shift, and looked to see the green mech had twisted to face him. Hound's expression was as serious as he'd ever seen it. "But I'm not, Blue. You're not a Decepticon."

"But..." Bluestreak put a hand on his chest over his spark as he felt it twist inside its chamber. "I was. I was part of the attack on Praxus. For all we know, we'd shot at each other during some battle." He looked at Hound, and felt a chill of fear run through him at the thought that, at some point in the past, he might have come close to killing this wonderful spark beside him.

Hound shook his helm, and scooted closer to Bluestreak. He brushed the side of Bluestreak's helm, and ran his thumb down the optical seam on his cheek. "You're not a Decepticon, Bluestreak," Hound said firmly. "I've fought alongside you for centuries. You are as much an Autobot as I am." He smiled finally, and added, "Maybe even more so, since now you outrank me."

Bluestreak felt something loosen in his spark, and a soft burble of laugher came out of his vocalizer. He closed his optics as Hound drew their helms together, and bumped his forehelm to Bluestreak's chevron. "Thank you, Hound," Bluestreak said quietly. "You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that."

"I mean it. You've shown nothing but loyalty to the Autobots since I first met you. Every time you've had self-doubts, it was about your own performance, not about whether you believe what the Autobots are fighting for," Hound said. He kissed Bluestreak, then pulled Bluestreak's helm against his shoulder. "And you're a light and a joy in my own life. I'm glad that I got a chance to meet you."

They leaned back against the rock wall behind them, and Bluestreak curled himself into Hound's side. "I'm glad I got a chance to meet you, too," Bluestreak murmured. He pressed his nasal ridge into Hound's neck, inhaling the scents of pine and spring water that he now associated with the green mech. "And thank you for listening."

"I'm just glad you had someone here who you trusted enough to tell," Hound said. He brushed his fingers down the side of Bluestreak's helm. "And I'm sorry that it was Prowl who did all of this. I know you two were close."

With a low rumble of his engine, Bluestreak sat up and tipped his helm back so it rested against the cliff face. "Yeah," he muttered. He worked his intake as he looked out over the valley, trying to keep the static from his voice. "I'm sorry, too."

They sat in silence for another minute.

"So what are you going to do now?" Hound asked.

Bluestreak glanced at Hound. "What do you mean? I'm staying with the Autobots, if that's what you're asking."

Hound shook his helm. "No. I mean..." He gestured at Bluestreak with a wave of his hand. "I mean... Are you going to get a new body? If they can swing it, of course, and get the parts. You used to have such a problem with how you looked before..."

"Oh." Bluestreak chewed on his lower lip as he thought. "I don't know. I'm kind of used to this one now. It feels a lot better than the old one I had on Cybertron, and this one doesn't look as wrong, you know?" He shrugged. "Plus... I really like driving. I like the feeling of having my wheels on the road. Going on long drives is fun, and racing on the track is amazing. I couldn't do that as an airframe. But..." Bluestreak frowned. "I've always wanted to fly. At least now I know why." He looked up at the sky, scanning the blanket of stars overhead. A soft glow had formed on the eastern horizon; dawn would arrive before too much longer. "Optimus asked whether there was anything I wanted, after finding all of this out... Anything that would help me adjust to what I know now. I'd tried to get my shuttle licence before we left Cybertron, but maybe..."

Hound hummed thoughtfully. "It's a nice thought, but we've only got one working shuttle," he said. "I don't know that they'd want to let an inexperienced pilot near it."

"I guess," Bluestreak said with a sigh. Then he laughed. "Maybe Skyfire would let me practice flying him."

Hound grinned at Bluestreak, his optics sparkling with humour. "That's kind of kinky," he said. "But then again, I know Skyfire kind of likes you."

They both laughed.

As the glow of predawn grew brighter, Bluestreak scanned the sky again. He wanted something other than what he'd heard tonight to think about. His optics focused on a point of light moving across the sky. "Did you ever get those new star charts installed like you'd asked for?" Bluestreak asked.

"Yup," Hound said. "Wheeljack got me the charts just last week. It took a while because they had get Teletraan 1 to do all the scans, then cross-reference it with the data from NASA and ESA, and then convert them to a format we could use."

Bluestreak pointed at the fleck of light cruising just above them. "That satellite above us... Do you know whose that is?"

Hound was silent for a moment. Then he said, "It's in the charts, but it's not labelled. Wheeljack said that means it's probably the Soviet Union's. The Americans don't know about that one yet." He frowned. "We should probably tell them about it."

"Later?" Bluestreak wrapped his arm around Hound's and twined their fingers together. "After the sunrise?"

Hound smiled at him, and gently bumped their shoulders together. "Of course," he said.

They sat and watched as the light of the sunrise spread across the valley below them, chasing shadows from every corner until everything glowed brightly.

Bluestreak hesitated at the door of the office and shook the tension out of his door wings.

He had not been looking forward to this meeting. He had spent several hours driving laps around the Autobots' racing track trying to calm himself down, and then spent another hour in the washrack with the wax and polish that he'd borrowed from Sunstreaker.

He could have had this meeting with Optimus, but Bluestreak knew that would just be putting a patch over a bad weld. He needed to have this meeting, and this conversation, now. Otherwise, things would just continue to fester between him and Prowl.

He cycled his vents again, and then pressed the entry chime.

"Enter!" said Prowl's voice over the speaker.

The door shushed open, and Bluestreak stepped into Prowl's office.

"Hello, Bluestreak," Prowl said, and gestured at the chair across from him. "Please, sit down."

After being friends with him for millennia, Bluestreak was familiar enough with Prowl's mannerisms to recognize how uncomfortable Prowl was. His door wings were held stiffly behind him, and he wore an expression that was all business.

Well, good, Bluestreak thought. At least I'm not the only one feeling uncomfortable with this situation.

As Bluestreak sat in the chair, Prowl glanced at the datapad in Bluestreak's hand. "I understand you are here to discuss your accommodation requests," Prowl said, and held out his hand.

Bluestreak hesitated. "I am," he said, clutching the datapad to his chest. "But I want to say something first."

Prowl froze, and folded his hands together again in front of him. "Of course," he murmured, his face expressionless. "Go ahead."

Bluestreak collected his thoughts. He'd met with Smokescreen to go over exactly what he wanted to tell Prowl, wanting to get as much of a professional opinion as he could before saying it to Prowl's face. Bluestreak had been vague about who he was having the conversation with and why, of course; he still didn't want his true past to be common knowledge. But he told Smokescreen that one of his close friends had lied to him and manipulated him, and he wanted to be able to say his piece.

It probably wouldn't be long before Smokescreen figured out who Bluestreak was having the problem with, since the psychologist was a master at reading mechs' relationships. But Smokescreen's input had been worth it, and Bluestreak trusted Smokescreen to keep his confidence.

Bluestreak took a full vent, then launched into his speech. "I'm still angry, and I probably will be for a long time," he said, reciting the words he'd rehearsed. "I'm hurt by what you did to me. I'm upset that you didn't tell me, even after you decided that you didn't want to lie to me anymore. And I'm furious about all that time I spent thinking that something was wrong with me – between hating my frame and my nightmares. You had the answer all along, and still you kept it a secret. I'm so angry at you..." He gripped the datapad tightly, and felt it flex slightly. With an effort, he loosened his grip so as not to crack the screen with his fingers. "I know we have to work together. We're both Autobots. I intend to stay an Autobot. We're still fighting this war, and I won't do anything to get in the way of the Autobot cause. But... I don't think we can be friends anymore. Not like how we were. Not now."

A wave of emotions flickered across Prowl's face, far too quickly for Bluestreak to register them all. But the dip of Prowl's door wings told him all he needed to know about how Prowl felt about Bluestreak's words. "I understand," Prowl finally said. "And I am sorry for what I did... And what I didn't do."

"I miss the old Prowl, you know," Bluestreak said. His spark twisted sadly as he saw Prowl's optics brighten for a moment. "I mean, I miss the Prowl I thought I used to know, back when I thought Prowl would never lie to me." A memory flashed through his processor, from back in Iacon, of Hound telling him how he trusted anything that Prowl said because he was never wrong. "Maybe that Prowl never really existed."

Prowl's door wings fell even further at that, but he nodded slowly. "I hope that some day I will be able to earn your trust back. I know that it'll take time, and maybe it'll never happen. But I hope that it will." Prowl's jaw was clenched, and Bluestreak could hear the effort Prowl was using to keep his vocalizer steady.

"Me too," Bluestreak said. Then, before he could dwell on what he'd just said and the connection he'd just severed, Bluestreak handed the datapad across the desk. "Anyway, here are my requests."

Prowl accepted the datapad and flicked it on without a word. He skimmed through the list, then looked up at Bluestreak. "This is it?" he asked.

Bluestreak nodded. "That's it." Bluestreak knew that the Autobots were strapped for resources in several key areas, so he'd tempered both his requests and his expectations with that in mind. As a result, the list on the pad was modest, with just a few items. Or rather, it was modest in his opinion.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the things he was asking for were outrageous. Especially the last item on the list.

The item he most wanted.

Bluestreak cycled his vents. Hound had helped him compile the list, and the truck was sure that he would get just about everything he was asking for.

Prowl looked at the datapad again, reading it more closely. "You're requesting to only be promoted to Sergeant instead of First Sergeant," he said. "Why?"

"Because First Sergeant would put me above all of my roommates," Bluestreak said. He smiled, remembering Hound's reaction to his promotion. "For as much as it matters here on Earth, I'd rather not outrank everyone recharging in the same room as me." That, and the higher promotions had felt too much like a bribe.

Nodding, Prowl said, "Fair reasoning. Your rank can be reviewed when we make it back to Cybertron." He looked at the pad again and read the next item. "A repaint? You don't have to ask for that."

Bluestreak shrugged. "I wanted to make sure that it was listed, so I couldn't be refused the cost of the paint or anything like that." He still wanted to check with Sunstreaker for the specific colours, but he thought changing his paint to his old frame's colours – at least for a little while, to see how it felt – sounded like a good idea. Thunderbolt had been blue and silver, and Bluestreak wanted to mirror that as well as he could.

The worst that would happen was that it felt weird, and he'd get himself painted back to his current colours.

Prowl had moved on to the next item, and his door wings rose when he read it. "An update to your medical history, indicating that your spark was originally forged in a flight frame." He looked back up at Bluestreak. "Ratchet is not dumb, nor is Smokescreen. They will likely figure out what happened. I thought you wanted to keep your true origins a secret." Prowl frowned. "Your file already notes that your frame had to be completely rebuilt, with all the stress on your spark that entailed. Surely that should be enough."

Bluestreak let his door wings droop slightly. "Maybe," he said. "But... I think it's a good idea to spell it out. I think that my claustrophobia is related more to not being able to see the sky, or knowing I can go outside, rather than from the trauma of crash-landing in Praxus." He shrugged. "I mean, I've dealt with that, but I think it's something that should be recorded in my file. Officially. Just in case."

And maybe, after this war is over, you can be held accountable for what you did to me, Bluestreak thought.

After staring at Bluestreak for a full minute, Prowl's door wings dipped in acquiescence, and he nodded. "All right," he said. "The Prime indicated that we should be as accommodating as we can. If this is something you want, we will do it." He held Bluestreak's gaze for a moment before glancing back down at the datapad.

"Thank you," Bluestreak said. Then he held his ventilations as Prowl looked at the last item on the list.

Prowl's door wings shot up over his shoulders. "A jetpack?" he asked, looking up at Bluestreak again with wide optics.

"Like Sideswipe's," Bluestreak said. "I was working on one with him, back on Cybertron, but it had to be stripped for parts when we were working to get the Ark ready for launch. I was so excited about being able to fly... I mean, back then I thought it was just something weird that I wanted to do, since ground frames aren't usually big fans of heights. But now I know it's because I was forged to fly. My spark was ignited to fly." He gestured with his hands, trying to pull the words out of the air as he spoke. "I need to fly. I used the tables you got me to price out a frame modification so I could fly like Tracks, but I don't want to bankrupt our resources. I know we're scrounging for parts as it is. So, having a jetpack will be the closest I can get to being back in a flight frame."

Prowl's optics did not go wide at Bluestreak's torrent of words, but he sat back in his seat. He looked back down at the pad. "I take it this is the parts list?" he asked.

"Yes," Bluestreak said, resisting the urge to fidget in his chair. This was the thing he most wanted. This is what he needed, above anything else. "Sideswipe helped me with the parts list, and Wheeljack made some additions." When Prowl lifted a brow ridge at that, Bluestreak added, "And we had Perceptor look it over to make sure Wheeljack didn't add something that would make it too dangerous."

Prowl looked over the parts list silently. Then, he tapped the pad once and handed it back to Bluestreak. "Approved," he said. "All of it."

"Just like that?" Bluestreak asked, uncertain that he'd heard correctly. Prowl hadn't said much about the addition to his medical file, even though he probably knew the real reason Bluestreak wanted his spark's true nature included, and he had barely even flickered an optic at the promotion, and the jetpack, holy slag, did he really just say yes to the jetpack? Oh Primus, was he really going to get to fly and–

"Just like that," Prowl replied. He flashed Bluestreak a small smile. "But I don't want you to think that I'm only agreeing to get you to trust me. I don't want to earn your trust with trinkets and minor adjustments." He gestured at the datapad that Bluestreak had clutched to his chest armor again. "All of those items make sense, based on your explanations and what you've learned about yourself over the past few days. I see no reason to deny them."

"Thank you!" Bluestreak exclaimed, fluttering his door wings in excitement when he saw the approval mark. He knew that Optimus Prime had promised him that they would help with anything that would make things easier for Bluestreak. But somehow, Bluestreak had not been able to shake the notion that a jetpack would be an extravagance that the Autobots couldn't afford.

Bluestreak stood to leave Prowl's office when the Praxian called his name, and Bluestreak turned back to look at Prowl. "Just... be careful," Prowl said. His smile was sincere, but there was an anxious quiver in his door wings. "I know you said that we can't be friends but... That doesn't mean I don't care about you." His smile faded slightly and he added, "I don't want to lose you, Bluestreak."

Bluestreak grinned, and gave Prowl a quick salute. "I promise to be careful, sir," he said, and then tore off to tell Hound the good news.

"How does it feel?" Sideswipe asked after checking the connection points. "Can you make sure it's not loose or shifting at all?"

Bluestreak bounced on his pedes, but the jetpack on his back was firmly attached. "It's on tight! See?"

Sideswipe leaned close, examining the connections from the pack into Bluestreak's data ports. "Run through the demo sequence again. Are you getting any error messages?"

Like he'd done ten time already, Bluestreak initialized the jetpack's firing sequence, then powered it down again. "Nope. It's all green," he said. He huffed when Sideswipe poked at the harness once more. "I never see you go through all these steps when you use your jetpack," he groused.

"I don't," Sideswipe said, finally stepping back. "But I also don't have an audience of officers who are ready to slaughter me if anything goes wrong." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the hill behind them.

Bluestreak glanced to the top of the rocky rise, about two-hundred fifty meters away. He could easily see Ratchet and Prowl standing watch over the scene below them. Ratchet looked calm, but Bluestreak knew he was ready to leap into action if anything went wrong. Prowl just looked... like Prowl. His door wings were held out straight behind him, and his face was almost expressionless. Bluestreak knew him well enough, though, to see that the tilt of his door wings spoke volumes about how nervous Prowl was.

Bluestreak turned back to Sideswipe with a small smile on his lips. Let Prowl be nervous.

"All right," Sideswipe said finally. "Let's go through the final checklist. All of the attachment points are firmed and closed?"

"Yes. You literally just checked that," Bluestreak said impatiently.

"Let him run through it all," Hound said. "Especially this first time." He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. "Leave the shortcutting for when I'm not watching, ok?"

"Listen to Hound," Skyfire said. The large mech was standing a short distance away, ready to provide assistance once they finally got into the air. "This is your first time up. Sideswipe is teaching you the right way to do things... Then later you can do things his way."

"That's right," Sideswipe said without missing a beat. "This looks fine. Air flow good?"

"Check," said Bluestreak.

"All fueled up?"

Bluestreak nodded. "I topped up right before Skyfire brought us out here."

"And your energy levels?"

"Energy's at 91%," Bluestreak said. He bounced on his pedes once more. "Can we go now?"

Sideswipe nodded. "Yup! But just a test fire at first, so you can get your balance in the air. It can be a little tricky, so let's just try hovering at first."

Bluestreak accessed the firing controls of the jetpack, and felt the heat of the thrusters on his lower legs. Then, he rose slowly into the air. One meter, two, three, four, five...

Slag. Even just getting his pedes off of the ground felt amazing.

"Good enough!" called Sideswipe. He'd followed Bluestreak into the air using his own jetpack, and he hovered a short distance away from Bluestreak. "You're nice and steady! Now, try rocking from side to side, gently. You want to get a feel for it so you don't go shooting off in some direction..."

Bluestreak leaned right, and felt himself slide sideways through the air. Leaning left brought him back. He glanced around and saw Skyfire standing nearby, ready to grab him if he went careening off in a weird direction.

"You're doing great!" Sideswipe called. "Now, see if you can do a small turn..." Sideswipe demonstrated, spinning in a slow, lazy circle as he hovered.

Bluestreak leaned, and felt himself turning and sliding, and... it felt completely natural. He tipped his door wings as he turned, feeling the air currents buffeting against their span. A small change in the angle of his torso and his door wings sent him spinning the other way... Then back... Then around... Then back...

"Whoa!" Sideswipe called. "That's enough!" Bluestreak stopped his spin and reoriented himself to face Sideswipe, grinning widely. Sideswipe returned his smile and made a 'down' gesture. "Let's land!"

The smile on Bluestreak's face slipped slightly, but he gradually cut power to the jetpack until his pedes were on the ground again. "That was fun!" he said as Sideswipe came up behind him to double check the bolts holding the harness onto his frame. "And everything's still good! Can we go higher now?"

Sideswipe gave Bluestreak a strange look. "Did you mean to spin around like that?" he asked. When Bluestreak nodded, he said, "Well, you're a natural, then. It took me weeks to learn how to twirl in one spot like that." He flicked a finger against one of Bluestreak's door wings. "Then again, I don't have sails like these to help me maneuver."

Bluestreak jumped up and down, eager to feel nothing below him again. "So? Are we good? Can we go flying?"

Sideswipe glanced up at Skyfire, and the shuttleformer nodded. "If you think you're ready," Skyfire said. Then he smiled. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were forged to fly. It looked as if you knew exactly how to hold yourself in the air. That kind of awareness usually only comes naturally to airframes." He gave Bluestreak a strange look, as if he was being seen in a new light.

Bluestreak dipped his door wings, and glanced at Hound before smiling back up at Skyfire. He wondered just how much Skyfire had guessed about him. "I'm ready," he said confidently, not bothering to acknowledge anything else that Skyfire had said.

Hound caught Bluestreak's hand, and grabbed the back of his helm. "Good flying," he said, bumping his helm against Bluestreak's. "I'll be waiting here with Ratchet and Prowl when you get back."

"Thanks, Hound," Bluestreak said, and gave Hound's hand a quick squeeze before letting go. He turned to face Skyfire and Sideswipe. "All right," he said. "Let's do this!"

"Like we talked about," Sideswipe said. "I'll lead. You follow me. Skyfire's gonna tail you. Don't get ahead of me or too far from him."

"If anything goes wrong, send me a mayday signal," Skyfire said firmly, pinging Bluestreak with his personal frequency as reinforcement. "I'm not very fast, but I should be able to catch you if something happens."

"Right." Bluestreak felt a flutter of excitement, and let it translate to his door wings. He was finally going to fly, for real, on his own! He grinned at Sideswipe. "Let's go already!"

Sideswipe fired his jetpack and rose into the air. Bluestreak fired his as well, rising behind Sideswipe, lifting higher and higher with every second.

As the ground dropped away, Bluestreak looked out over the desert. The rise that Ratchet and Prowl were standing on quickly fell below him, and all three Autobots on the ground dwindled into nothing more than dots. In the distance, Bluestreak could make out the flat structure of the Ark, its engines just visible in the side of the volcano where it had crashed. Beyond that, the snow-covered peaks of the mountains rose. They were never visible from the Ark because of all the tall pines that surrounded their crash site, but even from several hundred kilometers away it was less than a minute before Bluestreak could see them clearly.

He held out his arms, and let himself spin lazily, turning in a full circle to see all around them. To the north, he could see a human city, its towers looking like miniature blocks plugged into the ground. To the south, he could see a bank of clouds, promising rain for anyone in its way.

Bluestreak's altimeter told him they were at about three thousand meters when Sideswipe levelled off and started flying east. Sideswipe pinged him on an open channel. ::How are you doing so far?::

::This is fantastic!:: Bluestreak let his giddiness bleed into the comm line. He swerved left, then right, getting his balance in the air. Bluestreak flattened his door wings, reveling in the feel of the air flowing over them. ::It feels great!::

Skyfire's voice broke into the comm line. ::You've got enough height that you can do a few spins, like you did before.:: There was a definite note of amusement in Skyfire's tone. ::Rolls are always fun.::

Bluestreak looked down, and saw the large shuttleformer perform a slow, lazy roll in the air.

Bluestreak steadied himself in the air, and after a moment he spun himself in a barrel roll. The world whirled around him as the ground became the sky and the sky became the ground, and then it all returned to their proper positions. When he leveled out again, he laughed out loud.

He'd never felt more like himself in his entire life.