Chapter 30

"Welcome to the apocalypse club"

Hawkmoon's combat protocols activated in an instant, blades swinging out over her knuckles. Ikitri, just as quick to act, drew his foldblade and flicked out the thinning panels of Solar-wreathed steel - holding his sabre up like a duelist.

"Don't," he whispered.

But she wasn't listening. Not to him, nor to the gasps and exclaims to "stop, stop, stop" from Nacelle and Cyberwarp. She had optics only for Úthaessel - and Úthaessel alone.

Emperor.

Raven.

Sun Prophet.

Dragon.

"You're... one of them," Hawkmoon accused. "A... a fragging desire-drake."

::Wait, she's serious? She's a DRAGON?::

Úthaessel cocked her head, curious. Playing innocent. All the while giving her a knowing look - one Hawkmoon was mirroring, a look of mutual understanding, coming to terms with the fact that both of them were realizing, at least to a limited degree, that there was more to each of them than their mere mortal shells indicated. "I am not my mother," she said, quietly - barely audible over the cries for restraint and strained curses coming from the others. "I will not - cannot - feed upon you."

"But you're like her."

"Only in part. I am the daughter of Hraesh as much as I am of Aiakos - and all the instances of myself whose periods of regency preceded my very own. The blood of the dragon is but one influence of the many that gave rise to the version of me standing before you here and now."

"I know what you are," Hawkmoon growled out. She took a step forward - and hardly flinched as Ikitri snapped his blade out, pressing it against her neck.

"Even then, be I of their blood, I am still not as my parents were. I am Úthaessel, Tai Emperor Raven, Word of the Sun, Dragon-Daughter. I govern my people; I protect them. I have named my stellar realm the 'Protectorate' for that reason. I do not prey on them. I do not prey on anything. I will not. You may rest at ease." She tilted her head the other way. "Even if I had been the dragon you fear me to be, you would still be safe. Among my mother's people, they adhere only to one law - that a dragon may not devour a quarry marked by another. Not without explicit permission."

"As if. You're just camouflaging yourself in innocence."

"Innocence? Perhaps, perhaps not. This morning I sent a Tai to the installation orbiting our Father Sun to die. Even more terrible yet, I must gamble the worlds of my Protectorate and the lives of all my peoples on the vainest of hopes. On your ability to alter fate."

::'Moon...::

::Don't,:: Hawkmoon told them warningly. She didn't care to turn around and see their expressions. Didn't care to hear about whatever they wanted to tell her. "You are a dragon. I'm no idiot; 'o wayfarer mine'? I know what that means."

Úthaessel laughed. Actually laughed. Hawkmoon bristled, pissed off, but the Tai stopped herself short mere moments in. "You believe the Anthem Anatheme's holy syntax a cage. An ontopathic predator's trademark trap."

"Isn't it?" Hawkmoon challenged.

"Oh, you are very well-learned, Seeker, that I will freely admit, but there is more yet you do not realize. To enact an ontomorphic net entails not only the power to draw it into a web, but to ward it from the claws of others. The Foe, I am certain you realize, are liable to employ similar tactics." Úthaessel dipped her beak downwards; the gesture was alien, and whatever its meaning was was lost on Hawkmoon. "And you, o incalculable variable mine, are too important to lose. I will not let them have you. I will not. I promised to you that you would find shelter and respite beneath the safety of my wings - and you will have it. That is no lie; that is no illusion. Let me show you."

Úthaessel reached into the folds of her robes and produced the hilt of her very own foldblade, built of dark resin and ornate gold, with a ruby inlaid into the pommel. For a moment, Hawkmoon thought she was going to be pressed to use her own blades, that the thing was going to strike out, but then - she tossed it. Úthaessel simply tossed the foldblade-hilt to her. Hawkmoon deftly caught it out of the air, barely glancing at it, and frowned. "... What?"

"I am an icon of honesty," Úthaessel told her, confidently clasping her hands together in front of her and folding her wings against her back - totally at ease. "Draw my blade and see for yourself."

Hawkmoon hesitated only a single fleeting moment before she clicked the primary switch on the hilt and flicked it into the air, the silver panels fluidly folding out and snapping into place in a single instant. No Solar energy, though. She withheld that much - avoiding the secondary, smaller switch just below. Hawkmoon angled it between herself and the Emperor, ensuring that she could see both the Tai and her near-perfect reflection in the polished steel.

Then thrust forward, sliding it just against the Emperor's neck (causing her energy shield to flicker and spark up) and only just barely managing to stop herself there. Ikitri cried out and did the same, pressing the very edge of his sword even closer under Hawkmoon's chin, scoring the very heated edge of it into the surface of her thin plating. "Don't," he urged her, frantic and furious. She studiously ignored him.

"There are teeth around you," Úthaessel told her, completely unfazed. "They are lodged in your soul, but they lack a maw. Is the drake slain?"

"As good as." Hawkmoon narrowed her optics to thin slits. The shield was probably on the high-grade end of the spectrum, and the sight of it didn't look to adhere to Void, Arc or Solar norms, so it was possibly built of trapped kinetic energy. Nothing a single roaring burst of her thrusters couldn't break through. It would probably get herself killed in the process, though, what with Ikitri there.

And she only had the one life to spend.

But this was quite possibly a dragon. Not exactly a meagre, meaningless target.

"I mean you no harm," Úthaessel murmured. "I will bring against you no harm. I will- Captain, lay down your arms."

"Sire?!"

"Do it."

"Gravest apologies, sire, but I cannot simply-"

"I trust her ability to reason. Do not put her under duress; she must come to this realization on her own terms. Now, Captain."

Ikitri reluctantly pulled his superheated foldblade away and stepped back, breathing shallowly. Hawkmoon gave Úthaessel an incredulous look. "I could kill you."

"That would be regrettable."

"Why aren't you afraid?"

Úthaessel hummed. "Three of my forebears have been assassinated. Once by a jaded lover, once by the Tai Sun-Refusalists, and once by the Khargrive for attempting to strangle the Foe in their homeworld cradle. Death is no stranger - and no barrier."

"Your people won't have enough time to grow a clone before the Hive hit."

"Hence my regret, but if I must perish to ensure your cooperation, so be it. I hope you will have more mercy on the thirtieth Sun Emperor than you do for me."

Hawkmoon scowled. "You really don't think I'm going to kill you, do you?"

Úthaessel chuckled. "No. I do not. Oh, a warrior you may be, but you value life."

"Not dragon-life."

"Then we should be glad my mother has passed, for she was Tai Prime's only true wyrm. I carry her blood, her spark, an ember of her fire - but I am no wish-dragon. Do you see, now?"

Hawkmoon saw. Saw the Emperor's reflection on the shimmering blade, and it didn't once distort. No lie, then, nor even a half-truth. At least - that would've been the case if she were a full dragon. Hawkmoon wasn't so sure where a half-born dragonspawn was concerned.

"You do," Úthaessel purred. "You won't kill me - not for the side of me that is Hraesh's daughter. You are not willing to murder in cold blood."

Hawkmoon lowered the sword to the ground. The curved tip of it grazed the edge of the ancient mosaic-marked floor, decapitating the ceramic form of an eight-legged finned horse with pitiful ease. Priceless damage. She didn't much care for worrying about it. "You're no dragon."

"I am not."

"... But you know what happened to me. You can... what? 'Sense' it?" Hawkmoon pressed, her tone bordering on derisive.

Úthaessel visibly took it in stride, nodding elegantly. "I do. My mother did not leave me with nothing. I have her... prescient tastes. Her intuition." She paused. "And I am sorry. I feel your pain, like that of your broken kin, but... it has scabbed over. Tending to it may take time."

"Don't you fragging dare," Hawkmoon said warningly. "I don't... want you near my spark."

"If that is what you wish."

Hawkmoon looked down, along the length of the gilded foldblade. She re-clicked it, retracting the sharpened panels back into the hilt and reluctantly offered it back. Úthaessel reached for it, hesitated for a split-second, then pushed it back towards her.

"My gift to you," Úthaessel said softly.

Hawkmoon gave her a puzzled look. "What?"

"Take it. My thanks to you, for offering your aid to my Protectorate. And... this." Úthaessel gestured to the side of her faceplates. To where the witch's claws had dug in and scored a mark that simply refused to leave. "In sympathy for all you've endured to come here."

Hawkmoon considered it - both the offer and the sword - and pocketed the weapon into an internal compartment in her other arm before she could convince herself it was a trap. The paranoia had her all strung up and suffering for it. She spared Úthaessel an uncertain look, considering something else entirely. "I'm..."

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to say sorry."

::Hawkmoon!:: Cyberwarp finally exclaimed. Hawkmoon ignored her.

"Your kind ruined me," Hawkmoon stolidly continued. "Ruined everything for me. I'd appreciate it if we go our separate ways now and never talk again."

"Now that may be impossible," Úthaessel said with a wince. "We are not through, you and I. And there are others I want you to speak with."

"The Augur, I know," Hawkmoon grunted - taking a mental step back from the conversation. She felt drained - not physically, but emotionally. It was fast becoming a common occurance and she hated it. Her spark radiated stress and worse, and it was weighing on her entire system. "Do I have a choice?"

"I don't want my people exterminated," Úthaessel murmured. "So I would... appreciate it if you cooperated with us."

"Fine," Hawkmoon huffed. "Fine, go ahead, let's get this over with."

::I feel like I just witnessed something historical...:: Nacelle murmured.

Cyberwarp hmmed. ::Not what I would've called it.::

Hawkmoon refused to reply. Maybe she had erred, but she wasn't about to tell them - or anyone for that matter - that she realized that. She quietly followed along, eying each shadow they passed with suspicion. Úthaessel might not have been lying about herself, but that wasn't to say she wasn't playing host to other extraterrestrial horrors.

::Like watching two supercontinents collide,:: Nacelle went on.

::Oh, don't be dramatic.::

::Unstoppable force meeting immovable object.::

::'Moon actually did stop, so...::

::For a moment, I didn't think she would.:: Nacelle paused. ::'Moon, you terrify me. I don't understand much about you anymore, except for that. Can you please give us a warning next time?::

::There won't be a next time,:: Hawkmoon gruffly, and not a little reluctantly, told him. Aloud, she murmured, "You were playing that too calm."

Úthaessel gave her a glance. Ikitri, on the Emperor's other side, only spared her a dark, suspicious look. "I can, to a degree, read those around me," the half-dragon admitted.

"And you knew I wouldn't kill you?"

"Oh, there was a genuine chance during one heated moment. I was almost sure I'd underestimated your anger."

"But you weren't afraid."

"I told you, I would not be the first Emperor to fall doing what she thought right."

"Just because you have died, does not mean death holds no sway over you," Hawkmoon pointed out.

Úthaessel sent her another look - and it lingered. "Spoken from experience?"

"Maybe," Hawkmoon shrugged, trying to drown the minute panic of having perhaps said too much in a veneer of forced calm, lest the Tai-Ahamkara thing pick up on it. "I'm guessing you had other avenues of protection ready to go."

"Perhaps."

"So how close was I?"

"To slaying me?"

"To getting myself killed."

"Ah." Úthaessel considered the question and her both. "A feather's width."

"Really?"

"Yes. My Excubitors are... protective."

Hawkmoon frowned and looked around. "I don't see any."

Úthaessel tutted. "That does not mean they are not watching you. Come along - we're almost there." The Emperor stopped by a room, pushed open the ornate doors and gracefully stepped inside - beckoning to those behind as if to say: welcome to my humble abode, don't be shy. "We have honored guests," she said to those inside. "They walk beneath my wing. Treat them as you would myself."

Hawkmoon cautiously entered after her and looked around. The Augur Seven-One was there, along with another Verunlix and a small number of other alien specimens, most of them seated around the crackling warmth of a massive archaic fireplace. Their conversation fell short as they glanced around to gaze right back at her. Feigning indifference, Hawkmoon took in the sight of the rest of the chamber. It was a large room, walled with lacquered wood - save for the one on the right upon entering, where a thick glass barrier separated the solar from its primary exhibit, a stand bearing up the two massive husks of what were once fearsome creatures, tangled together in death. One was a skeleton vaguely familiar to that of a Tai, but with a longer ridged tail and great hooked claws embedded in the rusted steel of its opponent - a many-faced mechanical squid, coiling the drake in an embrace of serrated buzzsaw-tendrils.

It was Úthaessel's mother and the dragon's own mangled murderer: the Quintesson Judge. The barest hints of life flickered in the recesses of the Judge's many optics, and the bones of the Ahamkara... Hawkmoon could hear them whispering sweet nothings into her audials, hooks of seductive desire. She shivered and almost re-drew her wrist-blades on the spot. Only the touch of Cyberwarp on her arm kept her from lashing out, breaking into a whirlwind of panicked, desperate violence.

An Ahamkara. Like Riven.

Who'd killed her and Gecko at Xol's behest.

It was wrong. It was wrong in so many ways. The entire state of the Tai Empire was wrong - based on the wish of a murderous she-dragon

"Be at ease," Úthaessel told her, softly, comfortingly - or it would've been, if Hawkmoon had been unaware of what she was. "She will not harm you."

"Why's that?" Hawkmoon vehemently hissed back.

"As I said before, the dragonlaw protects you."

Hawkmoon grabbed, almost instinctively, at Cyberwarp's servo and quickly glanced around to ensure Nacelle was still there, close by. "And what about them?"

"Under my protection," Úthaessel vowed. "My mother loves me alone in all the universe, and she will not cross those I treasure."

"This is fragged," Nacelle muttered. "That's an actual... wow."

"Yeah, you can say that again," Cyberwarp hoarsely whispered. Both of them were staring at the Judge. Figured; neither of them knew where the real danger lay. In the grand scheme of things they were children, ignorant when faced with the universe's true workings - and its truest of dangers.

... But then again, she wasn't one to talk, was she? Taking up a Worm God to use as a gun - how was that anything but the height of foolishness? And she'd paid for it, too - paid in blood and Light, only to be punted across time to pay some more.

Besides the Verunlix pair, there was a white-dappled brown Tai in a crisp imperial uniform, an Eecharik gunslinger (shorter, slimmer and possessing only half the amount of limbs as a queen-mother), a floating Uui jellyfish in a plated battle-harness, a pressure-suited Ameursh diplomat, and a withered old Meex clinging to a gnarled wooden cane, his front crisscrossed with old pale scars.

"I believe you know the Augur Seven-One," Úthaessel introduced. "Beside him is his sibling-prophet, Presage One-Four. Next to them is Admiral Oroses, and the infamous Oor'uun'xu of the Five-Nest Gap."

"Formerly," the Eecharik chittered, serrated mandibles flashing. "I ride the Raven Bridge now." He tipped his head, leaning against the back of the Admiral's chair with an easygoing air. "It's a mighty fine pleasure, sky-runners."

Hawkmoon nodded back, reserved. "Likewise."

Úthaessel gestured first to the armoured Uui and then the Ameursh dignitary. "This is Protects The Clouds of the Helium Reaches and this the Proxenos Yortavresh, ambassador of his people. And lastly, here sits Anax'Imenes Erub'hros, former chieftain of all Meex. Oh, and that is Proventian." The Emperor indicated to a lump of furry something stretched out in front of the fire. An animal, of some kind. It just looked to Hawkmoon like one massive hairy caterpillar. "My advisors and friends, those I trust most in all the Protectorate. In this room we decide the fate of trillions."

"These are the Seekers Hawkmoon, Cyberwarp, and Nacelle," Úthaessel went on, turning to the others.

"Hi," Cyberwarp weakly managed.

"Will Triipotes be joining us?" Erub'hros growled out. He sounded irritable, but Hawkmoon couldn't be sure. Her only frame of reference had been the Anax Thren'dos - and he'd been even angrier.

"He will not," Úthaessel replied. "The Tenerjiin are... otherwise indisposed. The Khargrive-"

"Plays at a favourite game," Augur Seven-One slyly interrupted. "He weighs the scales, reads the room."

"You cannot blame them for being cautious," Yortavresh said placatingly. "They more than most know the threat posed by the Foe."

"As do we," Presage One-Four solemnly intoned, their fox form writhing slower than the Augur's. Their orbs were of comparable sizes, but their fox-shadows acted drastically different - one excitable, the other lethargic. "We know the Fiend's worth. We were subjected to it once before. We are left as nothing more than the memory of their tyranny."

"You've encountered Oryx?" Hawkmoon blurted out, surprised.

All eyes turned to her - or in the Meex's case, just his sightless head. Only a few of them looked like they genuinely understood what she meant.

"First Fiend," Presage One-Four corrected. "The First Sinner - not the Second."

"What do you mean?"

"Kharad-Tan," Úthaessel explained, "the first Arch-Fiend. An ancient, vile creature - and a member of one of the first sapient species to bloom in our universe. He waged a crusade so grand that the debris left in his wake was instrumental in the formation of near all the Protectorate's worlds and far beyond. He left his mark too - great swathes of existence cut out of the galaxy's edges by his Sinful Knife. I believe you passed through one of those scars."

"The Brachian Divide?" Cyberwarp guessed. "That's... a lot to ask of any one person to destroy."

"Not alone," Augur Seven-One smugly elaborated. "Slithering Seneschal-Priests, hungering for rendered-absence always. Fire-hearted dancers of the blade."

"The Khargrive spited the Arch-Fiend before the Defeat," Úthaessel sternly retorted. Hawkmoon had the feeling she was bearing witness to an old personal argument of theirs. "He has made many efforts to atone for his prior loyalties. Leave him be."

"The Tenerjiin aren't a concern in this holy war," Oroses interrupted. "The Khargrive knows whose side he stands on. The real question is: do the Cybertronians?" She turned her beak towards Hawkmoon. "You know the Arch-Fiend's name."

It wasn't a question.

"I do," Hawkmoon admitted. This was it. This was where she spilled what she knew. Finally. "And the others: His Sisters and the Worm Gods."

"Seneschal-Priests!" Augur Seven-One cried out. "Fell screaming into a hole, left with a lonely old fish to guard them! A great fish! A leviathan of a fish! Beached now, run through with shipwreck-blades, home to wriggling larvae-colonies. Once served the great lunar cephalopods charged with keeping them celled. Failed. Died. The Foe stalks the stars."

They all ignored it - him? Úthaessel had called the Verunlix a 'him', so...

"The Wayfarer Moon woke Father Sun to guide us into shape and form for this very fight," Úthaessel declared. She glanced Hawkmoon's way. "And I can feel its touch on this one - a blessing, made with hope. She is with us, and... she is your variable, isn't she, Augur?"

"The far-flung detritus of a barter between the eaters of reality's finest gradient," Presage One-Four grimly identified. "Soul-maimed. Temporal-erratic."

Hawkmoon flinched. "Wait, you... you know I'm-"

"We recognize those like us," Augur Seven-One giddily teased. "Lost. Adrift in the currents of dire circumstance. Transplanted in stifling enclosures of foreign build, encumbered with the memory of flesh."

"Like..." Like a real Exo, Hawkmoon grimly mused. "You really do know, then."

"We know what we are, but of what we were... That we are forgetting," Presage One-Four lamented.

Like I've done. With everything that happened to me before Gecko found me.

"You know this pain. We too remember the flow of blood, the cold breath of air, the colourful feel of life. But we are forgetting the places where we were born, the cities we made, the stars we first touched and the children we cradled in our paws. Never forget the face of your child, lost one. Staple it down, keep it alive. Keep it."

Hawkmoon hesitated. "I don't know-"

"You do."

Theoretically true: she did know - but she would have rather not remembered it at all. It left her with a yearning for another life - a life that was as alien to her as her current one. Where she had a real family, not some plasteel-strong warrior's bond or a heartfelt spark-connection. A muddied sensation - what could possibly have drawn her to loving those people in the first place, if it was not having survived some horrific wartime trauma or out of necessity when braving the stars of the wild galaxy - but still one she knew, deep down, she would have cherished. If she could recall more than the leftover experience-fragments of a woman long-dead, that was.

It occurred to her, then, that she really was more corpse than human, like all those bellowing Fallen and screaming Hive had yelled at her in their own twisted tongues. All the empty husks she'd grown out of, to move on to the next. Like a hermit crab, she wanted to say, just changing home, but no, it was more personal than that, leaving behind morbid facsimiles of herself - more like a serpent, shedding its skin. She was just some spirit-viper - living first in this body, dying, and crawling into the next to live all over again.

It begged the question: was there still going to be another next after this one?

Hawkmoon didn't feel keen on finding out. And yet... a part of her did.

"You splashed into our reality," Presage One-Four continued. "Almost drowned in the pools of potential. The ripples you created have distorted the image of what is to come. We are near sightless, as a result of your intervention."

"Well, I'm sorry," Hawkmoon snapped. "I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

"'Want to break even?'" Auger Seven-One parroted.

Hawkmoon tensed up. "What... what did you say?"

"Not I, noble Seeker. Another. A forgetful guide, yes?"

"Enough, Augur," Úthaessel tiredly ordered. "We are here to discuss the future, not the past. Cybertronians, please - sit at your leisure. This room is cordoned from the rest of Tai space; you may rest and consider your worldly woes, for this is a place of reflection and sanctuary. I offer it to you, now and always."

Cyberwarp and Nacelle quietly exchanged a look, both glanced at Hawkmoon almost simultaneously - and went right ahead, poaching the chairs that looked like they were built for winged Tai, what with the narrow spines to allow the wings to flare out to some degree. Not quite the Vosian norm, but it was still fortunately close enough not to prove a hassle. Hawkmoon sighed and followed their lead, dragging an armchair from the side of the room and taking up position near the hearth as far from the remains of the dragon. And the Quintesson. As first-time encounters went, it still struck her with how utterly alien and horrific it was - something that left her uneasy and nervous. It was larger than her, and looked as if custom-built to not just kill, but torture. But hey, at least they were mostly extinct.

"So... you're from another time?" Oor'uun'xu hesitantly asked.

Hawkmoon reluctantly nodded, staring into the flames. The dragon had her rattled, and the Verunlix were not helping. Sly foxes.

"Well. That's... great." Oor'uun'xu straightened up. "This is the kind of information that some certain third parties would love to get their claws on, 'Sel."

Hawkmoon saw, in the corner of her vision, Úthaessel solemnly dipping her head. 'Sel?

"You mean your pirate friends?" Admiral Oroses scoffed.

"I meant the Refusalists," Oor'uun'xu sharply retorted. No love lost there. "You know, your age-old thorn-in-your-palm."

"The Refusalists will be of no concern," Úthaessel interrupted, raising her hands to placate the two of them. "They'll fall in line when the Foe nears."

"'Course," Oor'uun'xu clicked with amusement. "Ain't that a truth? We're all the same, really, when we're lying face-down in a ditch with a bullet hole between our eyes. They'll all be realizing that soon enough."

Hawkmoon already liked him a lot. It went some ways to knocking off some of the strain on her shoulders. Not all of it, never with the dead drake so close, but some. That was enough.

"This information will not leave this room," Protects The Clouds declared with a warble. "The chaos of it would muddy the war's administrative channels. Supply lines would be disrupted. Citizens may riot - as opposed to wholly supporting the war effort as they are now."

"Riot?" Oroses echoed uncertainly. "My people-"

"Like mine, have been under the impression that travel across time is impossible - a feat, by our studies, we would consider outside our own ability even given another ten thousand years of technological and scientific progress. And yet, here stands a time-lost creature your own Emperor vouches for. Our peoples would riot not against us, or even against the existence of this 'Hawkmoon', but against the universe itself. They would second-guess their own worth in the canvas of existence."

"He means folk would get spooked," Oor'uun'xu helpfully surmised. "Which isn't wrong, I might add. Any whisper of time-alteration technology will have every Eecharik freelancer and their grand-matrons come crawling for a piece to call their own."

"We have nothing to say," Presage One-Four said. "We have been blinded; we know not what will happen next. We have no worthwhile counsel to give."

"That is never true," Úthaessel fondly told him/her/them. "And I have no issue with declaring this classified information," she added, "but the choice ultimately lies with Hawkmoon. It is her life, her past and future that is on the line."

"Aren't you just the nicest?" Oor'uun'xu muttered, mandibles shivering.

Úthaessel chuckled and shared with the insect a small, personal smile. "I do try."

There was a small stretch of silence broken only by the crackle and hiss of the heart. Hawkmoon realized they were waiting for her answer. "I'd like to keep this private," she told them. "No one outside can know. No one. Not about the truth - my truth. Please."

"And no one will," Úthaessel promised her. "Not unless you give explicit permission. Are we all agreed?"

"You have my word," Oor'uun'xu vowed, sparing Hawkmoon a humble tip of his insectoid head. The others echoed the sentiment in their own individual ways. "So! Sky-runner, if you don't mind me asking, what are you if not a Cybertronian?"

Hawkmoon noticed how Cyberwarp and Nacelle tried not to make it look like they were listening closely and failed miserably. She stifled a frustrated sigh and whispered, "Human."

"What?"

"Human. That's what I was. Human. Homo Sapiens. Part of the greater collective of humanity. We... it doesn't much matter anymore."

"But how is this possible? Both this, you being a not-you and... how did your people find the means to traverse the temporal seas?" Oor'uun'xu asked. "How did you leap across time?"

"I was killed by a dragon."

"Ah." Oor'uun'xu glanced Úthaessel's way. "Yeah, that's usually the end of the line for most folk."

"Some don't adhere by the rules of others," Erub'hros said with a guttural cough. "The Wayfarer Moon least of all, and I can smell its touch on this one. So - before or after, steel-wrought?"

Hawkmoon assumed he was talking to her. "After."

"How far?"

"You're ancient history."

Erub'hros snorted. "So all Thren'dos's little Meexlings tell me."

"Everything we suspected would happen did happen," Úthaessel grimly proclaimed. "But I believe, with her intervention, we can change that."

"That rides on whether our predictions match what she knows," Oroses drily pointed out. She turned to Hawkmoon and lifted her beak. "So - what does happens?"

"To your Protectorate?"

"Yes."

"You all die," Hawkmoon matter-of-factly informed them. "Oryx and His Sisters destroy you all and move on to the next civilization. Nothing is left in His wake."

Oroses faced Úthaessel again and shrugged. "Alright, it's just the same."

"I told you."

"How does one fight this Foe, then?" Protects The Clouds inquired.

Hawkmoon shrugged. "Take out their leadership, and they'll kill themselves trying to fill the vacuum."

"Their fleets are too large, and endless besides," Oroses acknowledged. "Arranging internal disputes could be to our advantage, but as it stands we know too little."

"Give me a datapad," Hawkmoon said, "and I'll give you all you need."

"The Admiralty Board would appreciate it."

"The true danger lies with the Arch-Fiend and His kin," Úthaessel murmured. "My Marooner-fleets could protect the Star-Web, but the power to change the tide of this war lies with their leaders. Did you find a way to defeat them, in your time?"

"Oryx was killed, yes," Hawkmoon admitted. "But it was a close thing, and He was already half-dead when we got to Him. We had to kill His children and commanders one by one before trying for Him."

"So we have to play their game," Oroses grimly surmised. "Engage them in battle at every turn, with the hope that their own fleet commanders are present."

The Proxenos Yortavresh hummed thoughtfully. "That would be helpful, but we scarcely understand what the Foe is."

"Tell us about them," Úthaessel urged Hawkmoon. "Tell us of their strengths and weaknesses, their heroes and villains, their nobility and prophets. Tell us everything you know. Please."

Hawkmoon leaned forward, resting her elbows on her legs, and she reluctantly started. The words... they just poured out of her. There was no order to it, no pattern - just her spewing out every tidbit that came to mind, like Thrall feeding behaviours and then moving on to the known history of Luna's three-eyed conquerors, covering Crota and his Swarm Princes, Omnigul and the Swordbearers, and then jumping back to the natures and purposes of wizards and witches in the Hive ranks, and then moving onto all she knew of their vile magics. Hawkmoon covered it all, quickly, barely pausing for a nonexistent breath, just releasing it all and hoping - hoping - that some of it would actually make sense.

Just to finish off, she told them how they killed Oryx. How His breath washed over them, choking and bloody, and how His fist was closing in on an orb of black fire to finish them off - and how their resident Warlock had flown up in an incandescent rage on fiery wings and smote the Dark King down with a beam of solid Arc Light right through His accursed heart.

"But I don't have that power," she rattled off. "I don't, I lost Ge-... I lost it. I'm not... capable of anything like that anymore. I'm causal. It's... difficult for something causal to kill something paracausal, and Oryx is... He's the pinnacle of unnatural power. Hell, I never had that power to begin with; Ikharos was always brighter than me, better at manipulating his own... yeah. I can't. I just... can't."

"I am not asking you to," Úthaessel said softly - the first other voice to speak up in a long time. "I will not ask you to. The Arch-Fiend is my battle, not yours, but I must still ask for your help in protecting my planets. Can you offer me that?"

"Yes," Hawkmoon almost instantly responded.

"Thank you. This means the world to me, I hope you know. To have a chance at a future where we aren't rendered extinct..." Úthaessel trailed off, her four eyes closing. "It's wonderful to have hope again."

It must have been. Hawkmoon found herself struck by jealousy; it had been a while since she'd had the same. Ever since discovering the Hive were still at work in the universe, essentially. That was when her hope began to filter out. Just a couple of orns in truth - but to her, they may as well have been years.

Later, much later, Ikitri escorted them back to their dwellings in the Scarlet Palace. The Marooner-Captain said nothing to them - probably either still amazed he'd been in the Emperor's presence or that Hawkmoon had threatened to kill her, or, more likely, a mix of the two. He dropped them off, left, and they were greeted with a ping that informed them that the others were already there. Sandstorm and Swiftsear had taken the rooms of the Dartwings, who'd been permitted to return to the Aurorus what with the Emperor having cleared them. Skydive added that the Tai had declared they were free to explore the grounds of the Imperial Palace and Khadai-Viis both, but to be careful and notify a Tai official if they were leaving for the city.

Oh, and they were given permission to fly if they so desired. Each of them had been assigned a set of local ident-codes to keep the Taishibethi orbitals and warships hanging above from firing upon them.

::We're still not sure if we're allowed to leave, though,:: Skydive dubiously explained.

::That might be for the best right now,:: Hawkmoon replied. ::We'll need to talk with the Admiralty Board about charting a safe trajectory home. One that doesn't cross into Hive-space.::

::Right, yeah. I'll tell Northwind - it might perk him up.::

::You do that.:: Hawkmoon pushed into her own trine's shared suite and collapsed on the couch. "Frag."

Cyberwarp fell beside her, a touch dramatic. "That was something."

Nacelle leaned over the back of the couch, glancing down at the two of them. "That was a little more than something."

"Yeah, I was getting to that."

"'Moon almost got us killed. I don't think subtly telling her to-"

"Well I'm sorry," Hawkmoon snapped. "I'm sorry I died to a fragging dragon, I'm sorry every single drake I've met before has tried to kill me, I'm sorry that my natural reaction is to try to kill them first."

Nacelle flinched and blinked. "... Oookay... Yep, 'Warp, this is all yours." He pushed away and retreated to the kitchen. From the sounds of it, he was sorting out the energon cubes - ones someone had helpfully delivered to their room.

Cyberwarp poked her chassis. "You're stressed."

Hawkmoon gave her a disbelieving look, as if to say: yeah, no shit.

"It's like you're expecting a fight around every corner."

"Used to be the case," Hawkmoon grumbled.

"Not back on Cybertron," Cyberwarp pointed out. "I mean, you were plenty intense, but not this way. I liked it then. It's making me nervous now."

"Seeing the Hive again reminded me what life is really like."

Cyberwarp fell silent. For a while they just sat there in silence. Nacelle passed them a cube each. Hawkmoon barely sipped from hers. Finally, though, the other femme stood up, considered something, and tapped Hawkmoon's pauldron. "C'mon."

"What?"

"Let's stop wasting time and start living."

"'Warp, I'm not sure you understand-"

"I joined the Institution for adventure - for a life," Cyberwarp continued. "Nacelle too. He wants to make a name for himself. And, look, I know you were hoping to get home, but that home isn't there."

Hawkmoon shuttered her optics. It felt worse hearing someone else say it.

"And I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry. You're not the kind of person who deserves it. I know you're not." Cyberwarp knelt down. "You've been good to us. Great, even. And this... this is so weird, so confusing, so... so alien, but it is what it is. And I'm terrified - for you. You're acting like you're about to offline at any moment, and I hate that. Nacelle does too, I can tell. You can tell. We care, 'Moon. You might not have a home, and I'll never not be sorry for that because that's awful and I hate that something did that to you, but right now you have us. You do have us. And we have you. So can we please, before everything goes to scrap and we have to do things we really don't like, try to find the will to live a little? To enjoy the good parts of what we have going right now, as opposed to the bad?"

Hawkmoon onlined her optics and stared.

"Nice," Nacelle quietly praised.

Cyberwarp shot him a disapproving look. "Could you not ruin the moment?"

"No, I mean... sorry. But that was a cool speech."

Her faceplates softened. "Yeah, well, someone inspired me."

"Aw."

"... Fine," Hawkmoon whispered.

Both of them looked back at her, expectantly. Wanting to hear more.

"Fine," Hawkmoon repeated. "I'll... I'll live. With you. For now." The alternative was to crawl into the Tai-loaned bed and stare at the ceiling while the mocking mantra of you're alone you're alone you're alone rattled around the inside of her helm - and it didn't appeal whatsoever. But she was still emotionally exhausted, and lying down in a soft bed in the vain hope of turning her processor off, to stop thinking about everything... now that was appealing, and she wasn't keen to lose out on it.

"C'mon, then," Cyberwarp urged her. "They're letting us out into their city. I've never been in a city that wasn't Vos."

"But..." Nacelle frowned. "Freeport Azal. The Krensha Holdfast."

"Those weren't cities."

"They may as well have been."

"I never saw them that way."

Hawkmoon stood up, cutting their budding bickering to a close. She rolled her pauldrons, craned her neck-joint about and vented. "Lead on," she said, keeping her voice cool and neutral, to keep herself from getting snarky and mean. It was the best she could manage. Cyberwarp beamed and grabbed her servo.

Like always when she did that, her spark thrummed with extra force.

Hawkmoon was pretty sure she was almost in love.

Khidai-Viis was beautiful. It was spectacular, colourful, intact - and best of all, it was alive. Hawkmoon was still overcome with the concept of living cities, not dead ruins. Cybertron had been different, Cybertron had been cold metal and manufactured sights, but Khidai-Viis was undeniably built by flesh-and-blood hands. There were verdant forest parks and pedestrianized streets bustling with Tai and other Protectorate-species. It had atmosphere - enough to paint a subdued smile on Hawkmoon's faceplates even as they only just left the gates of the Imperial Palace behind, yearning for... something. Something quaint and civilian; a life of no excitement or complications, a life of the ordinary.

Cyberwarp exuberantly led the way, awed by everything and ecstatic to just be. She was the epitome of gentle enthusiasm and a healthy respect for everyone and everything around her - filled with a lust for life, and exploring what it meant to exist in a universe full of unknowns.

Nacelle was quieter, more reserved when faced with something he did not entirely understand, and while a tad more opinionated than 'Warp, he was still very open-minded for both a Seeker and a Cybertronian - and Hawkmoon could tell just looking at him that he was just as taken with the idea of interacting with the alienness of Tai Prime as the rest of them were.

Hawkmoon... wasn't sure what she was getting out of it. She often left the introspecting to Gecko and Ikharos in her other life - because the two of them loved to learn and share their findings together - but here, she was on her own. And... she was, again, lost. Without Gecko, even her own identity was something she couldn't truly understand. He'd been her guiding light, in more ways than one. But what she did feel was a foreign sort of comfort interwoven with guilt - because what lay before her, flush full of life's greatest attributes, probably wasn't going to last long at all.

Now. There, that was it. That was what she felt. Sympathy. And... a matronly sort of protectiveness, a fierce desire to keep the people of the city, the planet, the entire Protectorate from falling to a warlord's call to destiny. A hopeless desire, certainly, but what was she if not a perpetrator of lost causes?

They drew some eyes, leaving the Imperial Palace. Tourists, mostly, in the plaza having come to gawk at the Emperor's holdings. Some patrolling guards too, almost always armoured Myods or silk-jacketed Taishibethi. Kept their distance, though, which was a boon.

Cyberwarp eventually got impatient, rose up into the air and transformed, firing off. Hawkmoon vented a sigh and followed suit; Nacelle did the same. They didn't go far - just shooting over to the closest mercantile district, where an eye-catching street-market was seemingly booming with business, and they landed on the cobbled road, transforming just as they touched down. That definitely grabbed them some attention, and a few alarmed cries while at it, but little more than that. Those who'd witnessed stared and watched and generally stood about all bewildered (except for the sightless Meex, who figured something was happening but being unable to understand what exactly), while the crowds beyond their sight continued on as before in simple ignorance.

"This is amazing," Cyberwarp gasped, turning a full three-sixty and gazing all about. She abruptly stopped and gravitated towards a nearby stall manned by a pair of elderly Tai. "Look!"

Hawkmoon strolled over, looked over the contents of the stall (archaic jewellery), and said, "Pretty. But we don't have money."

Cyberwarp smiled and ignored her. She pointed to a weathered old talisman - a stone circle with a square cut in the middle for a length of semi-frayed fishing-net rope to loop through - and asked the couple, "How much for this?"

The less greyed of the avian pair recovered from her surprise first and, still very perplexed, said, "Seveteen beruts."

Cyberwarp turned to Hawkmoon. Who raised her optical ridges. "What?"

"You can be charming when you want to be. Go on, charm."

"'Warp, we don't have any money."

"Make do."

"We could barter," Nacelle offered. "I've heard organic-based civilizations do that a lot."

"We really don't, but okay." Hawkmoon stepped forth, took an old crystal-flower knick-knack from her time in Vos out of internal storage and said, "I have no idea if this is any worth to you, but, uh... would it be able to cover one?"

They gave her three. One for each of them, tied around their left wrists with delicate claws. Hawkmoon did a little tweaking to her transformation sequence to ensure it wouldn't rip the next time she switched into her alt-mode (which was plain hell to do, her systems being so finicky) and they moved on, studiously ignoring the strange looks they were receiving all the while.

They went on a little shopping spree. Cyberwarp, Hawkmoon discovered, was a chronic browser - she had to take a look at almost every shop they passed, see if there was anything that struck her fancy. Nacelle practically had to drag her out of the nearest shopping mall they'd happened upon, after having spent all of her little Cybertronian crystal souvenirs (like collecting flowers from home, except they never wilted) and most of what little Hawkmoon herself had - but they came away with a couple more talismans, raw dataweave materials (purchased after Hawkmoon had admitted she could do some tinkering with it) and Tai-spun silks to drape over their pauldrons and wings. Cyberwarp herself wore a fine dark shawl and black shoulder-cape that, on Earth, would probably not have looked out of place as funerary garb, but was apparently the height of everyday fashion for Taishibethi. Hawkmoon herself had given in the wiles of the local styles, but only so far as to imitate the Tai norm of weaving ribbons of colourful cloth into their wings. Lacking feathers, it meant hers had to loop around and stream behind both primary and secondary wings, but it satisfied her well enough.

"You look ridiculous," Hawkmoon fondly told Cyberwarp.

"You look boring," Cyberwarp retorted with a grin.

"Yes yes, you're both pretty, can we move on now?" Nacelle grumbled. He'd gotten a Tai artisan to do over his chassis, painting the edges of his frame with little etchings of gold-leaf - literal and metaphorical, the metallic paint finely brushed into the form of long blossoming vines.

They were all so vain - and quite unapologetically so. Hawkmoon loved it. Loved them. It... was nice to acknowledge that at least she had that.

As evening fell they made their way to the other edge of the city, towards where it met the ocean. They found a quaint little park, strolled beneath the dappled shade of the canopy and enjoyed the harmless sights of the place. They'd moved to and fro about the city via their alt-modes to avoid drawing crowds and curious followers, and it had worked out in the end - leaving them relatively unnoticed in the half-light of the park, with only their optics and the sheen of their chassis betraying their presence.

Hawkmoon occupied herself with watching those around her; there were a pair of Tai sparring with uncharged foldblades, and the spectacle drew in all sorts, Tai and Meex and Ameursh and even a couple of Eecharik. At the same time, she found herself fascinated with the less spectacular but no less entrancing sight of a trio of Taishibethi roosting over a clutch of stocky little birds tottering about in bright robes too big for their diminutive frames.

Nacelle followed her line of sight and noted, "Polyamorous. Makes sense if your entire society is based around a communal sort of upbringing."

Hawkmoon slowly nodded along. "That's not what I was thinking, not at all, but hey, you do you."

"Ah. I'd just researched Tai social customs and..." Nacelle paused. "Were your people like that?"

"What?"

"Polyamorous."

Hawkmoon shrugged. "Not originally, but in the end we'd progressed to the stage where we could be whatever we wanted. Took time and effort and sacrifice - because people can be right fraggers when they want to be."

"So what were you actually thinking?"

I had a family, once. Twice, actually, but once for real. "... It doesn't matter."

Cyberwarp turned away from the ending foldblade fight, grinning. "This is amazing, isn't it?"

Hawkmoon forced herself to smile in return; the other femme's good cheer was infectious. "It is."

The Tai combatants eventually finished their duel, the elder of the pair disarming the younger, and they bowed to one another and then to their approving audience.

Cyberwarp tugged on her servo. Hawkmoon glanced at her.

"Let's fly," Cyberwarp whispered, almost conspiratorially.

Hawkmoon rolled her optics and sent an exasperated look Nacelle's way. They transformed, almost as one, and slipped through the canopy into the sky above. The other two dropped into formation behind her. Hawkmoon led them out, away from Khidai-Viis and over the ocean. They dipped lower, trailing down and down until the ocean spray splashed over them and their trajectories carved steaming trails over the water's surface.

There were boats and ships of all kinds out with them, but Hawkmoon made sure to steer clear lest they do something to bother the sailors.

Still, they weren't left alone. By the Tai, sure, but other parties eventually took an interest - and Hawkmoon became fast aware of something rising up through the waters, up from its depths to investigate. She reared up, ready to give the newcomer its space, then swooped back down when it leapt up over them - massive, dripping wet, groaning loudly, and finally splashing down behind them with a boom. No harm done, and she was left with the impression that none had been intended. The beast had looked like the progeny of a heron and penguin, if it had tried to become a whale later in life and ultimately shattered all expectations. It had a fluked tail, a coat of short oily feathers, and a long, brutish beak filled with baleen.

Convergent evolution was one hell of a thing.

Cyberwarp separated to drop off a few things with Northwind and his trine. Hawkmoon returned to their place with Nacelle, fell back onto the couch and offlined her optics. She could feel what remained of the seawater running down the panels of her wings, collecting in the centre of her palms, slowly evaporating over her plates. It was good. It was the sensation of living.

'Warp really had kept her word.

Nacelle settled down beside her and passed over a datapad. Hawkmoon frowned, but took it anyways.

"Keep it," he told her.

"That's great, mech, but I don't know what 'it' is."

"It's a datapad."

Hawkmoon made a face. "Well, yeah."

"I mean..." Nacelle vented a sigh. "I mean - it's yours. Make yourself a journal."

"Ah, right. For the Admiralt-"

"No. Not them. For yourself." Nacelle hesitated. "Look, they're welcome to give you their own, but this is for you. You're... Okay, 'Moon, I'm going to be brutally honest, but you're utter scrap at communicating with people. Oh, don't get me wrong, you can be deadly persuasive and a lot of fun, but..."

"I'm bad at communicating," Hawkmoon echoed.

"You are. You're struggling with it, and it's getting us into... scenarios. I'm hoping this'll help you organize things in there." He tapped the side of her helm. Hawkmoon swatted his servo away. "Humour me?"

"You're being patronizing," Hawkmoon grumbled.

Nacelle grunted. "I'm being helpful. Your prideful aft just can't see it for what it is."

"I don't-..."

"Oh, you definitely have a pride problem. Lot of other problems from what I can see, but pride's one of the bigger ones. And that's one maybe you and I can help settle together. Along with your communication issues."

"So patronizing..."

"Shut up and let me help you."

"I'll..." Hawkmoon grimaced. "Look, I'll consider... this, but..."

"Say it. Go on."

"Thank you."

"There we go." Nacelle clapped a servo on her pauldron and got back up. He glanced at the fireplace's mantle and mused aloud, "What do you think about her?"

"Who?"

"Oh, you know."

Hawkmoon considered it. "Dangerous."

"For us?"

"Maybe. If we give her some genuine trouble."

"What, like what you did wasn't 'genuine'?"

"Not even a little. The balance of power wasn't with me then."

"She does seem nice, though. Cares plenty about her people."

"She's got dragon blood." Hawkmoon leaned forward, clasping her servos together. "Dragons are bad news."

"Yeah, and you've got trust issues too," Nacelle pointed out.

"I trust you and 'Warp."

"Not enough, 'Moon. Nowhere near enough."

AN: Huge thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!