Chapter 24

"Reality check"

Her talons scored grooves in the plating of her chassis, drawing shallow beads of energon and a grating noise that itched at her audials. Harkmoon doubled over, falling onto her knees, and she gaspedgaspedgasped, no air, no air, she couldn't breathe, she wasn't human-

There were no humans. Not as she knew them, anyways.

Not for a while yet.

Everyone she knew... Everyone... Ikharos, Jaxson, Quantis, Nadiya, Zavala, Ikora, Octavius, Oisín, Eva; everyone was gone. Even that mangy grump Norovoi, ostracized from common society. Even that snake, Germaine, sequestered out of the public eye in the Annex. Even Eris, that poor, poor tortured woman.

They were all gone.

Gone.

Gone.

"No..." Hawkmoon keened, trembling - oh Traveler above, the pain.

... It was a mistake. It had to be. Maybe some Taishibethi had survived their contact with the Hive; this was just a leftover faction. It had to be. There was no reason it couldn't be the case.

But what if it was?

There was no reason it could be the case either. Time... time wasn't linear, not always, not al-when. Not where the Vex were concerned, and the Vex - they'd been the medium for Xol to pass through, and for her to follow. It'd never crossed her processor before, but...

"'Moon!" Cyberwarp was crouching beside her, drawing her in, voice thick with concern. "What's wrong?"

Everything's gone, she wanted to scream, to roar, to whisper even. I've just been orphaned out of my home, my people, all my friends and family. Everything I know is gone.

Everything except that which I hate.

"Can we outrun them?" Swiftsear urgently asked, ignoring her. Hawkmoon fell silent. She listened.

It was all she could do.

Deciforge answered with a collection of beeps that sounded very, very uninspiring.

"Look between the plate-ships," Sandstorm murmured, loud enough for all to hear. "They've got attack cruisers - strafe-runners. We can't handle those. Not with the Aurorus slowing us down."

"We're not abandoning ship."

"Then it looks like we've got to comply."

Swiftsear groaned. "Fine. Give them a reply. Keep it sparse - but make sure they know we're not hostile. That we don't want any trouble."

"Will do."

"And Cyberwarp?"

"Sir?"

"Get her... No. Leave her here - where I can keep an optic on her."

Cyberwarp stiffened against Hawkmoon's side. "With all due respect, sir, she's in no condition-"

"I don't care. She burned that chance. Just find out whatever's wrong with her and keep her quiet. That's all."

"But-"

"Swift," Sandstorm interrupted. "They've heard us."

"And?"

"Ordering us to temporarily relocate to 62732CA-a, to a planet-side spaceport behind the Imojel's frontlines."

"The Imojel don't have any spaceworthy vessels."

"Doesn't look like it was made for them."

There was a pregnant pause. Then, "This is bad."

"Looks like," Sandstorm grimly agreed.

"We need to... Fine, tell them we'll make our way there as soon as we can. I'll inform everyone. Get Vale hooked up to the transcriptional-codex; she's our best diplomat. Work on that language of theirs too - make sure we're reading it right."

Sandstorm hummed in acknowledgement. "I'll get on it."

The Aurorus shuddered - they'd landed. The Dartwings boosted to and fro all around, moderating the shuttle's systems with nigh-on religious zealotry. Hawkmoon had shoved herself against the ship's hull to give them room to work, optics blankly staring out. Cyberwarp - caring, beautiful Cyberwarp - was by her side, trying to console her, utterly confused and not a little agitated but so, so selfless.

Hawkmoon didn't deserve her - because she was in no way the same. She didn't have that same kindness, that same thoughtfulness, that same selflessness and it hurt to know it.

What hurt more, so much more,was knowing that everyone she'd ever cared about was gone. Not dead; never existed in the first place. Not as things were. Not as they used to be.

"I'm alone..." she mumbled to herself, stricken - and hating. Hating Xol so much more, if it was even possible. First her Ghost - then all the rest.

He really had taken everything from her.

The Aurorus's boarding hatch slid open. Swiftsear got out, Nacelle wandered in. He made a beeline for them, hunkered down in front of where Hawkmoon was huddled up, and asked with quiet concern, "What's wrong with her?"

"I... I don't know," Cyberwarp whispered back.

The very air began to thrum with the growl of something massive.

"That's them," Nacelle murmured. "They're closing in."

"What do they want?"

"I don't know. What anyone wants, probably."

"And that is?"

"Answers."

Hawkmoon lifted her helm - meeting their optics. Her side of the bond was closed, but theirs was not and she could feel their fear, their doubt, their reservations - and the stress running through their struts, tingling unpleasantly in their wing-sensors. "I need..." she started to say, then vented a mournful sigh.

"What do you need?" Nacelle pressed. "'Moon? What can we do?"

"I need... I need to get outside. I need to speak with them."

Nacelle and Cyberwarp exchanged a look. The former said, "There are Imojel all around. They're aiming at us. Anything... off, and they could fire. Their tech is primitive, but it could still hurt us bad. Not to mention what could happen if those other guys get involved."

"I'm not..." Hawkmoon grimaced. "I'm not going to kill them. Only the Hive."

They shared another look. "What hive?" Cyberwarp asked in a small voice. "Insecticons?"

Hawkmoon paused, shook her head. "The Hive," she muttered. "You'll see. They aren't done with this place yet. Things'll only get worse - unless we try to do... something."

"I'm not sure-"

Hawkmoon pushed herself up onto her pedes. Cyberwarp slowly rose with her, uncertain, and helped her find her balance. "I have to speak with them. If you trust me, if you've ever trusted me, please, just... trust me now."

A third time they looked at each other - silently debating. Or not; they had each-others comm codes.

"Okay," Cyberwarp decided, nodding. She fixed Hawkmoon with a knowing look. "But you... you need to tell us about... whatever's happening with you. Promise."

Hawkmoon hesitated.

"Hawkmoon, please."

"Okay, I... frag it..." she briefly offlined her optics. "I promise. I swear I'll tell you. Just... don't..."

"Just what?" Nacelle pressed.

"Just... you have to promise something too." Hawkmoon scowled at nothing, averting her optics. "That you won't kill me."

"What?"

"That you won't let me die," she amended. Stupid, stupid - what a poor choice of words, but... the fear, the wrenching terror was there! She couldn't not say it!

"We..." Cyberwarp trailed off, paused, and then leaned forward to lean her helm against Hawkmoon's own. The contact was... comforting. Not enough to banish the storm of horror and misery, not even close, but... still welcome. "You know I won't. We won't. We're with you."

"We are," Nacelle softly confirmed.

"I don't deserve either of you," Hawkmoon murmured, only half-joking. "And you don't deserve to be weighted down by me..."

"You're not-"

"I am. You're going to realize it real quick." Hawkmoon vented. "I need... I need to speak with those Taishibethi things now. Now. Or... or bad things are going to happen, quick."

"I don't know if they've landed yet," Nacelle admitted, but Hawkmoon didn't care - she disengaged and stepped around them both, prepping herself up for a bad time.

Swiftsear was going to kill her. Contrail too if he heard - and if they ever saw him again.

Still - better that than letting a damn Hive creature get the glory.

From under the protective cover of the giant silvered plateships darker frigates emerged, making a beeline for 62732CA-a. Lesser in size than their silver brethren but no less fearsome, they were still massive and imposing works of alien technology, bristling with guns. A trio disappeared past the rise of nearby buildings and into the horizon, towards the world-wide green glow of the developing Hivelands. Another two lowered down towards the spaceport, their silver mothership hanging overhead, forming an artificial eclipse over the entire local region. Out of the frigates detached even more vessels - some streamlined fighters of such excellent make even a Seeker would have been jealous, and others most obvious troop-carriers. Three of the latter quickly descended towards the open airfields where the Aurorus had docked, surrounded by Northwind's and Swiftsear's trines, and the where black-clad ranks of nearby Imojel - who'd met the Seekers at silent gunpoint - were dutifully making way.

Hawkmoon heard more radio chatter, the native language fast becoming clearer to her processor's seemingly automatic translator systems - and the word she kept picking out was "angel", "angel", "angel", "sun-angel".

The transports ground to a halt a little distance up. Ramps folded open underneath their sterns, and massive power-armoured figures dropped out - plummeting to the ground with a crash, white-orange energy shields flaring up at each rattling impact. The Imojel soldiers retreated at a barked command, bowing their heads and cowering away. The newcomers shrugged off the landings and took up the vacant post - colossal near-Cybertronian-sized aliens in thermal-regulated pressure suits. Not Cabal, thankfully - just... bigger. And meaner looking too, what with them all bearing railguns armed with clips of lethal physical-projectile rounds. Tendrils as well, snaking in the air on either side of their vaguely humanoid forms as they lumbered forth, facing the Aurorus and fingers sliding over firing mechanisms.

::Remain calm,:: Swiftsear urged. ::They will not fire unless we give them a reason to.::

These weren't Taishibethi. Hawkmoon knew that much only because her datalogue notified her, having realized that the shapes of the lumbering alien supertroopers corresponded with a known intelligent species briefly studied by Cybertronian explorers in eons past - great armoured molluscs from the planet Naarst, semi-terrestrial amphibious gastropods who called themselves the Myods, or "those who stand alone". They were truly large, near as tall as each Vosian Seeker present and bearing much more bulk. Their backs were hunched and engorged, hefting massive shells beneath their protective suits, and it gave them each an earth-shaking gait. Their legs, just a pair, were thick cylindrical trunks with only a single knee joint each and no apparent heels, and they moved with a slow deliberation - all power, no grace. They had two arms, filling out the humanoid quota, and clutched massive railcannons loaded with brutal slug-rounds. The Myods wore protective mechanized power-suits with thermal, pressure and moisture regulators - covering the entirety of their forms, from their snail-like heads with short-stalked eyes peering through dense visors, to the lumps of their shells, to the very soles of their elephant-like feet.

Most strange were their proboscides reaching around their arms to slither through the air. There were two on their right sides, one on their left, and each of them was a tube of condensed muscle fitted with retractable poison-glanded harpoons. Useless against a Cybertronian - worst damage Hawkmoon judged they could do was snag on a plate of the outer armouring layers - but to fellow organics? Probably a whole lot more devastating.

One of the molluscs raised its cannon to them and said something - but she couldn't make it out. Beyond the alien language being... well, an alien language, it was near incomprehensible. More like dulled whalesong than actual speech - all abyssal moans and groans and whistles and more. Loud, though. Very loud.

"Keep your servos in sight," Swiftsear urged them aloud, softly, probably to convince the alien soldiers they were willing to cooperate. Hawkmoon clasped her servos together over her chest, digits crossing over, and she leaned against the shuttle's hull. It was the best she was going to give them. Vale stepped forward with her own arms halfway raised in front of her - which was more for show than anything else, 'cause barring a restraining bolt or dampening cuffs, there was no way a Cybertronian wasn't armed and dangerous - and replied to the aliens in kind. Obviously, she had the language-files necessary.

Lucky.

The leading Myod responded, brandishing its weapon and giving her a brusque order. Cowed, Vale retreated a pace and waited. A new sound filled the air. The plate-shaped battleship above trundled onwards, allowing some of the sun's dying rays of light to seep past. An artificial glow traveled along the capital ship's length, running like veins between... yes, solar panels. So many solar panels - and advanced ones at that, parsing apart every particulate of light energy and refocusing it elsewhere.

Like the Imojel did to power their own machines.

It looked like they'd found the Imojel's sponsors.

"You doing okay?" Northwind whispered. Hawkmoon almost gave a start; she hadn't noticed him inching his way over to her. Northwind wore a concerned look. "What happened?"

"I..." Hawkmoon grimaced. "It's not important."

"Scrap that, 'Moon-"

"Don't give me that. Don't."

Northwind flinched. "Right," he said, subdued. He turned and followed her line of sight. "Handy thing, that. Isn't it?"

"They're going to war," Hawkmoon neutrally observed.

"Don't envy them."

"... Neither do I."

"Should be an easy job, though, with ships like those. Never seen anything built so..." Northwind trailed off with a curious note. "Hawkmoon?"

"What?" she snapped, impatient - just done with people for the day.

"Am I glitching?"

"What are you talking about?"

"This planet has two moons, right?"

"Yeah."

"Just two?"

"Yes, 'Wind, just..." Hawkmoon glanced up. "Two..."

She caught the tail-end of the receding green pinprick, and watched as the tiny pale ivory orb of a small celestial body - farther than the two rising moons of 62732CA-a - began to slowly, slowly, millimetre by millimetre, enlarge itself. Getting closer. The plateship groaned and rose up abruptly, more glowing arteries filling with energy, and it bristled with cannons and other high-density energy weapons.

"Oh, frag," Hawkmoon vented.

"That's not good," Northwind nervously quipped. "That's a comet, right? Where in the Pit did that come from? Someone should tell the local organics - they'll probably need to shoot it apart."

"'Wind."

"Yeah?"

"That's not a comet."

"... Huh."

One of the hovering transports dipped lower - behind the ranks of waiting Treestrín. Other figures disembarked - more soldiers, but of a wholly different species. They couldn't have been any more physically different to the molluscs if they'd tried. Taishibethi, Hawkmoon presumed. Or hoped, anyways. This was not her day to be introduced to every sapient race in the Cyst Stars; she already had too much crap to deal with as it was.

The Taishibethi wore little in terms of armour, with their lush feathered bodies exposed to the elements, and they walked tall and proud - heads held high, backs almost perfectly straight but for the curve of it leading down to long tail-feathers. The Taishibethi were six-limbed - with two slender, nimble legs upon which they neatly danced, talons click-click-clicking on the pavement, two dextrous hands with six fingers each (two of which were opposable thumbs, arrayed on either side of the palm), and two vestigial wings folded over their backs and trailing more long feathers over their forms like natural cloaks. They had raptorial beaks and four dark, opaque bluish eyes (like abyssal ocean trenches) filled with sparkling intelligence and a hint of clever mischief. Tufts of feathers at the rear of their heads gave the impression of ears or horns, not unlike certain kinds of Earth-born owls. No two were coloured the exact same - some had coats as black as ravens, others the mottled tan-brown coats of desert-dwelling scavenger birds, and some all the rainbow colours of tropical parrots. The only true commonality between them was that they all, at the tips of where their wing- and tail-feathers ended, were bright orange in colour - the hue of fire, wavering like the real thing due to some digitally-animated data-encoded dyes and paints.

The Imojels' angels comments made more sense upon seeing them in person.

Some of the Taishibethi were armed - some had slender long-rifles, others bore polearms of artful make, and a number had only unfinished sword-hilts strapped to their hips, no actual blades in sight. All had claws. All had the sinuous, elegant physique of a Seeker given biological form. All were staring at her and the other Cybertronians with interest and wariness - and some confusion. Others glanced up with worry, listening in silence to small chattering radios grasped in taloned, dextrous hands.

One of the birds gracefully padded forth, wearing a belt, a silken vest and sash, a leather bandolier and a sword-hilt at each hip. The Taishibeth bore only a silvered earring at one head-tuft, and one of its eyes had been swapped out for a less-beautiful cybernetic replacement - probably a wound earned in battle, if the pink scar running above and below the socket were any indication - but its wing-feathers were resplendent with ribbons inscribed with tiny lines of flowing text, woven with a material Hawkmoon simply couldn't recognize. It had a superficial resemblance to the hadronic-weave of Warlock armour, but... no. Dataweave of some kind, that was all Hawkmoon could be certain of.

It chirped something - to them, expecting a quick answer. Vale stiffly replied in kind, her own speech halting and uncertain. Hawkmoon sucked in her pride, reached out to Sandstorm, pinged a query, and he reluctantly sent her a file - a copy of the transcriptional-codex's findings. She added it to her glossator and relaxed as newly-comprehendible words finally graced her audio-receptors.

"Identify yourselves," the avian had demanded. It/he/she tilted its head. Gender wasn't easy to figure out where aliens were concerned - maybe it didn't have one? Did Taishibethi even have genders? Cybertronians didn't in truth either, it was just a projected-persona thing, but then they had the freedom of such versatile personal and physical adaptation, of being able to transform. Organic races just couldn't do that. Or she hoped; an organic creature transforming like Cybertronians did would have been disgusting.

Vale hesitated. "We... we are the third-contingent Vosian Exploratory formation, of Cybertron. We come in peace."

The avian looked her up and down, glanced at the rest of them. "Cybertronian? Oh, the Metal-Wrought," the Taishibeth twittered with thin amusement. "Oh, yes, we know about you. I am Marooner-Captain Ikitri'velus - hand of Admiral Jehennes. And you," it pointed with a single claw, "Are in Tai-space."

"We... understand that now, yes," Vale slowly nodded. Her servos flexed nervously. "We mean no you ill will - only to request safe passage.""

The Marooner-Captain hummed - and beautifully at that, like a singing Earth-bird. "You are the constructs who assisted the Imojel in assaulting the ruins of Oasis-City Kirun-Fal, yes?"

Vale glanced around at Hawkmoon, faceplates unreadable - but optics accusing. She slowly swiveled back to Ikitri. "Yes. We are."

The avian paused. "My Admiral has instructed me to 'give you the benefit of the doubt' for this. Your assistance was welcome, if unsolicited, though you startled the Imojel quite fiercely. Time is short - so I'll ask this: what do you want?"

"We don't want to-"

"To bother us? That was not the question. No, I'm sure I asked: what do you want?"

"We've only come this way in search of energon. We're Energon Seekers, not expansionist forces. I formally request that we be given safe condu-"

Hawkmoon strode forward with some urgency, ignoring Swiftsear's surprised hiss to "stop, stop now, stay put!" and quickly exclaimed, "Wait!"

The Taishibeth, who looked like he was itching to be done with them all and return to his ship, stopped and looked at her in... maybe surprise, it was hard to tell. The Myod behind it rumbled with warning and displeasure, but she ignored them - ignored Vale's outstretched servo to keep her back and stepped around the other femme. "Please, we need to talk about-"

Something flashed - and there was a prickling, stinging sensation against neck just under her chin. Ikitri had drawn both sword-hilts so fast she almost didn't notice the motion at all, and at the press of a button sharpened panels unfolded out from a hidden compartment and reformed into long blades - the curved edges lighting up with charged energy, the one bright with Solar drawn up and flickering against her intake-compartment, and the one glowing with ethereal Void held in a defensive position. The Taishibeth's eyes were narrowed, dark smooth lids traveling halfway up the vulnerable organs.

"Mind yourself," the bird breathed - hissing with displeasure, though whether at her or just being generally grumpy with being there at all was... genuinely hard to tell. Maybe it was just the chore of trying to breathe - because the air was chock full of disgusting particulates and poisonous vapours; even Hawkmoon's vents were having trouble sifting through the toxic waste.

"Please, I need to-"

The blades folded away, back into their respective hilts. "Say your piece, metal-born, and be done with it - for we have a war to finish."

"It won't be you who does," Hawkmoon retorted. She pointed up at the sky - at where the new celestial body Northwind had spotted was steadily approaching from far out. "That's a warmoon. A Hive warmoon. It's coming to finish this fight. There'll be more after it."

"Hive?" Ikitri questioned.

"The things killing the Imojel."

"... The Foe. Servants of the Arch-Fiend." Ikitri's bottomless eyes sharpened. "You know of them?"

"More than I'd like to, yeah."

The Taishibeth made a curious sound. "I'd just been prepared to let you loose, but now... now I think we'll seize you after all. Jehennes will want to hear you speak. As will the Star-Court. The Sun Emperor wills it."

"She doesn't know what she's talking about," Vale frantically asserted.

Hawkmoon forced herself up straighter. "The Hive serve Oryx - God-King, First Navigator, champion of the Worm Gods. He has two Sisters: Xivu Arath and Savathûn, the God of War and the Witch-Queen. They're coming for you. They're going to kill everything they find - every one of you they find. You need to evacuate."

"That is for Jehennes to decide," Ikitri retorted. "Disarm. Now."

"Already done."

"And the rest?"

"They won't give you trouble - if you don't give them any."

"We are not in the habit of executing others even for impertinence," the Taishibeth muttered. "Listen now: you will board your vessel, you will conform to our trajectory and make your way into the Prosperity Burns's lower hangar-deck and wait for further instruction. If you deviate, we will be forced to take more extreme measures to ensure you… remain. Am I understood?"

Hawkmoon said nothing. Swiftsear stepped after them, fuming; he really was going to kill her. She just knew it. "We don't want trouble," Swiftsear said.

"You won't have any," Ikitri replied, "for you are now in the custody of the Tai Emperor Raven's navy. We will hear of what you know and you will be permitted to return home."

"We don't know anything."

"This one does." Ikitri glanced at Hawkmoon. Swiftsear and Vale too. The latter pair did not look pleased.

"I don't know how," Swiftsear murmured. "Fine - we'll... we'll play along."

"Splendid." Ikitri turned on his heel and marched back to his transport - then stopped. "I'll take that one with me," he suddenly decided - looking at Hawkmoon. "This is not a request, so you know. Refusing me would not bode well for you."

Hawkmoon winced; yeah, Swiftsear was definitely glaring at her. "I'll go," she sighed.

Vale reached over. Hawkmoon flinched, but the other Seeker only removed her restraining bolt. Nothing else. Hawkmoon shivered as her weapons configurations and transformation sequences came back online. "Then go," Vale gruffly told her, in Cybertronian too. "But there better be an explanation later."

"Later," Hawkmoon tiredly promised. Scrap.

AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for editing! Dude works fast - I'd pretty much only just sent it to him when he gave it back.