Chapter 36

"Royal Intrigue"

They'd only just stumbled into the Scarlet Palace when Swiftsear, Northwind and Quell set upon them. Hawkmoon suppressed a grimace and glanced between the three - reading their faceplates for anything malicious. Nothing like that, though. Swiftsear wore an unreadable look, but Quell and Northwind-

"'Moon," the latter said uncertainly. "Is... is it true?"

"Is what true?" Nacelle questioned sharply. He stepped forward, in front of her. As if she needed protection. Brave misguided bastard. Selfless. Would have made a great Titan.

"She has a terminal glitch," Quell said quietly. "I heard her and Tai Emperor talk. She's... she has processor damage, doesn't she?"

Ah. Well. Not the entire picture, but he wasn't wrong.

"Was your helm hit on this 'Estrum'?" Swiftsear asked, voice uncharacteristically soft.

Hawkmoon hesitated. "It's... complicated."

"I gave you a yes or no question."

"And I'm not going to answer it."

::Hawkmoon,:: Nacelle said warningly.

Swiftsear narrowed his optics. "You do realize I am your commanding officer, don't you? Or do you need a reminder?"

Hawkmoon pressed her lips tight. "You and I both know that time has passed."

"Has it?"

"Odds are I'm going to die here, among these Cyst Stars, so - yeah. I get to choose what I get to do with the remainder of it. I'll fight for that, you know I will. I'll kill for that. Don't try to force my hand."

"Is that a threat?"

"I worded that wrong; I'm killing Hive and helping the Taishibethi. You're not going to stop me. Not unless you're willing to shoot me - and I'll fight back if you try."

"You're bold."

"Pretty sure this isn't the first time that's been said. Yeah, I am." Hawkmoon huffed. "Now - do we understand each other?"

"I could have you court-martialed."

"Next chance you'll have of that, there'll be nothing left to take to trial beyond a corpse."

::Oh, Hawkmoon...:: Cyberwarp lamented.

Swiftsear slowly crossed his arms. He shuttered his optics. "Death makes fools of us all."

"Yes, yes, you're very wise. Can we move on now?"

Swiftsear sighed. "Yes. Yes, we can move on."

"Hawkmoon," Northwind started to say. The moment she looked at him, though, he floundered. "Uh... I'm sorry."

"So am I," she murmured, expression softening. "But that doesn't help anyone, does it?"

"What... what are you going to do now?"

"Úthaessel will be sending the three of us to Crux - the Tenerjiin homeworld - to convince the Khargrive to return to the side of the Taishibethi," Nacelle explained.

Northwind frowned - then nodded to himself. "We'll go with you."

"No you won't."

"But 'Moon-"

"We'll stay," Swiftsear announced. He put a servo on Northwind's pauldron and gave the younger mech a hard look. "We have to find Deciforge's crew a way home. And your own trine as well."

"I can go with them! I can fight!"

"You can," Swiftsear agreed, "but that does not mean you should. Cybertron should be warned. I'd like it if you delivered that warning."

Northwind made a face. "But-"

"We'll do it," Quell interrupted.

"The Admiralty Board give you a way home yet?" Hawkmoon asked.

Swiftsear shook his helm. "Their scouts are... preoccupied, but it is only a matter of time. We will circle around the conflicted zones if we have to - dip outside the galaxy's bounds."

Hawkmoon shrugged. "You know this kind of work better than me." She walked past them. Northwind and Quell were watching, but she couldn't stand to look at them.

She wasn't something to be pitied.

The door to Cyberwarp's room slid open - and the two of them barreled in, only just remembering to close it behind them before they waltzed and spun and danced their way further inside with an almost dangerous sort of urgency. Fear of what the future had in store for them propelled them on, hustled them towards a near mindless passion, and neither tried to resist in the slightest.

They were much too far gone for that.

"You're not going to die," Cyberwarp declared, just as she pushed Hawkmoon back onto the bed. "You're not."

Hawkmoon pulled her along, tugging her in for a kiss. "You don't..." she said between every heated press of their lips, "get to decide that."

"I do."

"You don't, you-" Hawkmoon groaned lowly as Cyberwarp's servos ran over her repaired wings, relieving the knots of tension straining through her flight sensors. "'Warp. I know you're not okay with this, but-"

"I'm not okay with this." Cyberwarp leaned back, above her. Her optics were bright, but her ridges were furrowed low over them. "I'm really not."

"If there was something I could do about it, I would've done it years back."

"We almost lost you," Cyberwarp muttered. "On Estrum. That was three orns ago. And now... this. I'm tired of being so worried."

Hawkmoon, her own servos on the other femme's hip-joints, paused. "I haven't been fair to you," she admitted. "At all. Not since we've met. I'm sorry."

"No more secrets."

"I wasn't keeping any-"

"No more," Cyberwarp demanded more firmly. "No more talk about... about dying. Then I'll forgive you."

"You should go with Northwind and the others when they go back to Cybertron."

Cyberwarp rolled her optics. "Not this again."

"You should!" Hawkmoon pressed. "This is too dangerous-"

Cyberwarp's servos ran over her chest, towards the glass canopy of her cockpit. The glass folded away, closely followed by the paneling beneath - her own body so intimately familiar with the feel of both 'Warp's digits and EM field that the process was almost automatic. Hawkmoon could have fought it if she wanted to.

She really didn't want to.

"No more secrets," Cyberwarp whispered. Her gullible, empathetic innocence was gone - replaced by a dauntless determination and a hunger for a victory, however small. "No more talk about death. Promise me."

"I can't-"

Cyberwarp's servos brushed the edge of the open paneling. A sensation like Arc ran through Hawkmoon's frame. "Promise me."

"Fine! Fine, I promise," Hawkmoon grumbled through a gasp. "No more talk about my upcoming imminent brain-death."

"'Moon-"

"But my past is my past - I haven't been fair to you, but you aren't being fair to me to ask for unrestricted access."

"Not unrestricted." Cyberwarp leaned down. Her servo slid further towards Hawkmoon's core. "Just one thing."

"What?"

Her lips were at Hawkmoon's audials. Her digits slid over her spark-chamber - the contact delirious and altogether the best kind of strange. She was holding Hawkmoon's own heart in her servo. Her soul. "Just your name."

Hawkmoon reached up, cupped Cyberwarp's helm and dragged her back for another kiss. The other femme played along for a few moments before pulling back and asking, "Well?"

"I'm..." Hawkmoon sighed. Or tried to. It didn't quite come out as such. "Which one?"

"You."

"The first one, then? Right, right. I'm..." She tried to school her features into something less... pathetic. "Adria."

"Adria," Cyberwarp slowly repeated, as if trying to physically taste the alien word.

"Adria Lennox. The second part's my surname - family-designation."

"Adria," Cyberwarp said again. She smiled. "I like it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I..." Cyberwarp's grin turned impish. "I love you, Adria."

"Ahhhh, the sappiness, it burns," Hawkmoon groaned and, as smoothly as she could manage, twisted them around. She leaned down and gave Cyberwarp a peck on her cranial crest. "I love you too, 'Warp," she whispered.

The morning saw them blinking back to full functionality and staggering up, sharing a laugh at an unspoken joke neither of them really understood, and hanging onto each other as they made for the door. Seeing Nacelle sitting at the dining table, idly drinking from an energon cube while two others had been pointedly laid out killed the cheer. Hawkmoon sat down opposite, pulled a cube towards her and drank. Cyberwarp did the same.

It was the quiet that got to her in the end.

"I'm not some doll," Hawkmoon grunted. "I'm not fragile."

"I pulled your dying husk out of a collapsing building, after you'd been tortured," Nacelle deadpanned. "Am I not allowed to be concerned?"

"It just feels like you're walking on eggshells around me."

"Walking on... Why would I...?"

"I think it's a metaphor," Cyberwarp whispered.

"Aaaah." Nacelle nodded. "Wait, no, I'm not-"

"You are."

"I'm the carer for this trine. This is my job, 'Moon."

Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "'Carer'?"

"You know, the... emotional support and-"

"Mother hen."

"Mother what?"

"Someone who fussily tends to the needs of others. Overprotective and the like."

"That's him," Cyberwarp muttered, head bowed. "But I like that. That's who Nacelle is."

"I..." Hawkmoon hesitated. "I like it too-"

"But you're a creature of pride," Nacelle bitterly remarked. "I get it."

"I don't need to be coddled. I..." Hawkmoon sighed. "Okay, I'll... frag it, I'll say it, I like being able to care and... in turn be cared about. That's great. But I feel... overwhelmed right now. My already-bad situation's turned to utter scrap, and I'm... just trying to keep going. It's hard when I have mecha cooing over every little hurt - hurts that I barely acknowledge myself."

"You were tortured, 'Moon. Your wings were pulled off!"

"I pulled them off," Hawkmoon coldly explained.

"You..." Nacelle's optics widened. "You did?"

"Yeah? Wasn't my first rodeo. Dislocate a shoulder, break a thumb, do whatever you do to get out of your bindings - 'cause your interrogators won't leave you for long."

"Wait now, wait a damned moment, you've been tortured before?"

Hawkmoon shrugged. "It's-"

"Don't say it's not so bad," Cyberwarp groaned. "You're not that macho."

"I wasn't," Hawkmoon groaned. "Look, it's fragged, it was an ordeal, and I'm not going to forget it any time soon, but... Pit, I gotta live. I gotta keep swimming."

"You're so difficult to work with sometimes that it physically hurts," Nacelle groaned. He dropped his cube and covered his faceplates with his servos.

"Yeah yeah," Hawkmoon said. She leaned back and crossed her arms and legs self-consciously. "Can we move on?"

"You're always so quick to leave difficult topics behind. It's not healthy."

"Well, yeah, they're 'difficult topics'."

"Can you smile for me?" Nacelle suddenly asked.

Hawkmoon frowned.

"That's not a smile."

"Why the frag do you want me to smile?"

"So I can maybe trick myself into thinking we're all okay. It'll keep me from smothering you with all the rightful concern that I feel for you because I am your friend and trinemate and we're supposed to be the cool ones together."

"Wait what?" Cyberwarp straightened up. "Cool ones?"

"C'mon, Hawkmoon. Smile?"

Hawkmoon tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace.

"Perfect," Nacelle drawled. "That's so you."

Hawkmoon snorted. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up."

"Where would you be without your grump?"

"Is grump even a word? Doesn't feel like one."

"It is, I checked. Look, I'll send you the- There we go!"

"What? Oh." The corners of her lips had tugged up. "You're a manipulative fragger."

"I'm still confused, though," Cyberwarp cut in. "Who's a cool one here?"

"Me and Hawkmoon," Nacelle helpfully explained.

"But not me?"

"Primus no."

Hawkmoon patted Cyberwarp's pauldron consolingly. "You're cute. Cute can't be cool."

"Since when?" Cyberwarp challenged, voice rising.

Nacelle shrugged. "It's a universal law, 'Warp. Nothing to do with us."

She scoffed and shook her helm. "You're both ridiculous."

"And damn proud of it." Hawkmoon grinned and hopped back to her pedes. "Úthaessel call for us yet?"

Nacelle shook his helm. "No."

"I'm headed to the Palatium anyways. Coming?"

The Excubitor-Castellan and another pair of overgrown Myods barred their way to the stairway leading to the Helioarian Palatium and reported their arrival to those within the Imperial Palace. Hawkmoon waited patiently; once the towering molluscs might have unnerved her, but now... after she'd seen them torn down to bone and gristle by Xivu Arath? A little less so.

They were mortal. They lived and died like most everyone. That was enough for her.

"Cybertronians: may pass," the Castellan rumbled, stepping out of their way and raising his beam-lance.

"Thanks," Hawkmoon replied, quickly striding by. She broke out into half-ran going up the steps, Cyberwarp and Nacelle just behind, and at the top they found Oor'un'xu waiting by the Palatium's massive doors, leaning against the doorframe. The Excubitors on guard nearby ignored them all in favour of going about their basic duties: standing around and looking imposing.

"How do you do?" Oor quipped. Then raised up something in his left primary hand. "Got it."

"Got what?" Hawkmoon shot back.

"A safe-matter transponder, modification-grade. For your own personal use - lucky you, eh? Don't you worry about the cost, either; Úthaessel paid in advance, and generously at that."

"I'm a little confused, honestly." Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "What's it for?"

"Nullblade, please."

Hawkmoon brought the foldblade out. Oor'un'xu sauntered over, took it, scanned it with the other device, then tossed it back. "Watch," he told her.

Pressed something on the device - and the foldblade disappeared, drawn right out of her servos in a low flash of light. It manifested back in Oor'un'xu's other hand.

"What is that?" Nacelle questioned, fascinated.

"Transmat," Hawkmoon realized. "That's a transmat device."

"Transmat?" Oor'un'xu echoed.

"Yeah, matter-transportation technology. My, uh-"

"People?" Oor'un'xu helpfully supplied.

"Mhm. They used to use it." A smile made itself known, stretching across her faceplates completely on its own terms. "You're giving me a transmat beacon?"

"It's a safe-matter transponder, actually. And yes." Oor'un'xu shoved them both into her servos. "I've just keyed the Nullblade into the transponder's codex. The system will pull it back to you whenever you want. Don't lose it."

"The transponder?"

"The Nullblade."

"Why?" Hawkmoon questioned with a frown. "Why are you and Úthaessel so adamant I keep the damn sword?"

Oo'un'xu softly clicked his mandibles together. "Just trust me. You need to keep it with you."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Yep. Farewell, sky-runners. It's been fun." Oor'un'xu made to slip past them.

"Wait wait wait." Cyberwarp raised a servo to stop him. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Oo'un'xu put a secondary hand on his hip. "Because I have my own people to see to - and back there," he jutted a thumb towards the Palatium, "is a bad time just waiting to happen."

"What do you-"

"The Marquess-Potentate," Hawkmoon realized. "She's here, isn't she?"

"Yep."

"You really don't like her."

Oor'un'xu snickered. "That's putting it lightly, sky-runner. Good luck. I hope I'll see you all again, alive and well."

He walked down the stairs at a relaxed pace, upper arms folding across his front and secondary arms clasping behind his back - and that was it. He was gone. They watched him continue on until he was a little speck at the base of the stairway, seemingly intent on strolling the entire way to Khidai-Viis in the distance.

"What a strange creature," Nacelle remarked.

Hawkmoon hummed. "I like him."

"Me too," Cyberwarp agreed. "He looks like an Insecticon, a small one, but... he's very reasonable. Patient too. With us, anyways."

"He's an outlaw, isn't he?" Nacelle pointed out. "A smuggler. A blatant smuggler at that."

"And I'm a corporate criminal," Hawkmoon snarked, "as well as an alien corpse-snatcher. I mean if you'd really wanted to keep law-abiding company, then you've made some questionable decisions, mech."

"I'm just saying... Here, give me that." Nacelle swiped the transmat beacon, looked it over and made a face. "This is alien tech."

Hawkmoon rolled her optics. "Well... yeah."

"No, be quiet, let me..." He turned it over. "How are you with taking mods?"

"Alright, I guess?"

"It won't force your... condition to, uh, deteriorate?" Nacelle asked.

Hawkmoon frowned. "My 'condition'."

"Yeah."

"Eggshells, Nas. Fragging Pit, yes, I'm fine with mods. I have another mod beside my sparkchamber. If I can survive that, I'll survive... where're you putting that?"

"Where do you want it?"

Hawkmoon raised a servo. "In this arm."

Nacelle contemplated it. "I can wire it up. Internally too. It shouldn't be too hard."

"Really?"

"I mean, it's foreign tech, but your nanites should be able to assimilate it. We'll have to watch that they don't interfere with the teleportation-process, though."

"It's not teleportation," Hawkmoon corrected. "It's simple matter-displacement and metaphysically-coherent data-transference."

"It moves things," Nacelle deadpanned.

"I can move my servo - does that count as teleporting? Hm? Does it? No."

He gave her a cross look. "It can physically transport material in an instant - with no physical travel-time involved. That's teleportation."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"It's completely different."

"It really isn't."

Cyberwarp groaned. "You're sparklings, the both of you."

"Well, it's my doohickey and I'm saying it's not a teleporter," Hawkmoon declared. "How do you like them apples?"

Nacelle spared her a bewildered look. "Eh?"

"Nevermind. I win."

"No you don't! I haven't-"

"La la la, I can't hear you, I'm too busy walking away.!" Hawkmoon, true to her word, walked away.

The Palatium's doors rumbled and swung open before her, and she made her way inside. The first Excubitor she saw within, stationed by the foot of the mirror-staircase, gestured up. Towards where the Palatium gave way to the Imperial Gardens.

"Thank you," she told him. Her. Them. The massive cone-snail that thought itself a supersoldier. Not that she was going to tell it otherwise; it was doing a fantastic job of it. Team Snail needed that victory, besides. Molluscs in general deserved their time in the spotlight, she mused. Mainly cephalopods, but sure, snails could have their go too. The Myods were certainly killing it.

A dining area had been set up in the gardens, with one big table plopped down in the middle of the woods. Úthaessel was at the end, entertaining the Uui Protects The Clouds and a pair of Eecharik queens - one being Iix'ii'xii. Protects The Clouds saw her first, raising a single tentacle in greeting while the rest of its limbs coiled about a gas-canister pressed below its 'face', freely guzzling up the choice fumes within.

"Ah," Úthaessel exclaimed upon spotting her, perking up. "Here she is now!"

The Eecharik pair glanced her way. Hawkmoon offered them a shallow, borderline mocking bow and took up position beside the Emperor. Cyberwarp and Nacelle followed suit, barring the bow, and with the former giving the giant wasp-spiders a wary wave. It was adorable.

"'Sup," Hawkmoon greeted.

The unnamed Eecharik queen raised her chin and sharply clacked her mandibles with distaste - but Iix'ii'xii gave her an altogether strange look. Hunger, but... no. Curiosity. A hunger to be curious? Something along those lines. It put Hawkmoon on edge all the same; something didn't sit right with her where the Marquess was concerned. She had some sort of... presence.

"Here she is indeed," Iix'ii'xii softly trilled. "Our Cybertronian hero, yes? Slayer of the Foe's mightiest champions."

"That's quite possibly me," Hawkmoon replied with an easy confidence - every Hunter's most reliable tool. Apart from knives. And guns. And their Ghosts - oh Gecko… "It's... good to see you well."

"Oh, every pleasure imaginable is mine," Iix'ii'xii purred. She leaned forward slightly, subtly - her shadow passing over the dining table and almost reaching towards Hawkmoon. "It was unfortunate we could not speak further, last we met. You are so, so very interesting."

"Glad I could impress."

"You've done that and then some, dear. The impact you've had... it's been something special, hasn't it, Eer'us'vol?"

The other queen's antennae twitched. "It is as you say."

"Indeed, indeed." Iix'ii'xii swiveled her head to look at Úthaessel. "I am almost tempted to offer you everything for her, your majesty."

"Everything?" Úthaessel questioned. A smile danced in her eyes - but it wasn't a kindly one.

"Oh yes. What a prize you have here."

"Ah, but you see," Úthaessel folded her hands together on the edge of the table, "Hawkmoon is not mine to give."

"She is not? And here I was led to believe she was your agent."

"A confederate? Certainly. An ally? Beyond a doubt. A friend?" Úthaessel's fire-filled eyes briefly fell on Hawkmoon. "Feasibly. But a servant? No. A slave? Nay. We do not trade in lives in my Protectorate - and you very well know as much."

"Oh, I do, I do," Iix'ii'xii readily agreed, bobbing her strange insectoid head. Where Oor'un'xu only had a pair of big eyes to go with a mouth, something Hawkmoon could sort of treat like a person, the queens almost had too many of the former to count - and the latter were more bestial too, more monstrous, built to tear flesh from bone. The queen-critters of Earthborn hive insects, as far as Hawkmoon recalled, were always imposing in relation to their underlings but otherwise fat and unwieldy creatures. The Eecharik monarchs were nothing of the sort; they were larger than the rest of their kind, but certainly more dangerous and physically able too. They were fearsome in frame and stature, predators to the core. "The currency of the Taishibethi is goodwill and honest work," Iix'ii'xii continued. "I know this. It would remiss of me to forget, wouldn't it?"

She turned back to Hawkmoon. "Will you answer some questions, at least, dear?"

"Depends on the question," Hawkmoon bluntly asserted.

Iix'ii'xii's many eyes twinkled with open interest. Her mandibles shivered with a chuckle. "A more cautious response I have never heard. Your name- designation, apologies, is Hawkmoon, yes?"

"Yeah."

"You are of Cybertron?"

"Yep," Hawkmoon confirmed.

There was a flicker of something, an expression she didn't quite catch crossing over the insect's face. "Fascinating. And you are a Seeker?"

"I am."

"But not alone." Iix'ii'xii pointedly glanced at Cyberwarp and Nacelle. "How many of your kind are here?"

Five other Seekers barring her own trine and four Dartwings. "Twelve altogether."

"Twelve," Iix'ii'xii hummed. "Imagine if Cybertron itself sent forth its fleets to save us - no mere scouting party, but a full battlefleet. Imagine, your grace."

"I'm imagining it," Úthaessel said carefully, "but Cybertron has its own obstacles to tackle."

"Ah yes - their thirst for fuel-stuffs."

"Indeed."

"Will Cybertron offer aid, do you think?"

Úthaessel visibly considered it. "I do not," she said at last. "We are too far, and, as I said, the Cybertronians are likely preoccupied with other matters. I'm afraid we will have to make do with what volunteers we already have."

"Uh, Swiftsear wants to send the others back home," Hawkmoon quickly pointed out. "We're just waiting on an update from the Board-"

"Nonsense," Úthaessel declared. "They can take the Raven Bridge."

Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "They can?"

"Of course. We won't be able to send them all the way to Cybertron, but the Bridge will leap past the Foe all the same. Your kin will return home unscathed - I swear it."

"Thank you." Hawkmoon bowed her helm.

"You are very welcome," Úthaessel warmly replied. She stood up. "Marquess Iix'ii'xii, it has been a true honour. I'm afraid I have duties elsewhere vying for my attention, but we should convene again - and soon."

"The honour has been mine, truly," Iix'ii'xii intoned. Her many eyes once more fell on Hawkmoon. "And what an unexpected pleasure this morning has been. I do hope this will not be the last time we meet, Seeker. Please tell the Khargrive I'm thinking of him when next you see him."

Hawkmoon's optics widened. She glanced at Úthaessel, but the Emperor didn't react. Maybe she'd told the Eecharik about the mission. Or maybe they were just that well-informed.

It didn't sit right with her.

The bridge of the End of Reservation looked about the same as Hawkmoon had last seen it when returning from Osteor, give or take a few new staff-members. Ikitri stood at the end of it, staring out the viewport at the colossal battlefleet being built up far beyond Tai Prime's orbit. Úthaessel really wasn't leaving things to chance; Nacelle had pointed out at least seventeen separate battleplates on their flight up to the arsenal-ship.

The Hive of Renaissance weren't going to know what hit them.

"Ikitri," Hawkmoon greeted, marching into the midst of the bridge. "My man."

The bird glanced at her over his shoulder, then disinterestedly turned back to the sight set before them - shadows of discus-shaped cruisers blotting out the stars. Not the Sun though. The Tai had a seeming aversion to that; they loved their dark-matter deity - and the local star-god watched over them ceaselessly, patient, all-consuming. Sometimes it was easy to ignore it, but other times... not so much. Hawkmoon tried her best, anyways. It didn't deserve anything from her. The star hadn't done her any favours yet.

"You know what's to happen?" Nacelle inquired, passing Hawkmoon.

"I am to take you to Crux's orbit," Ikitri breathed out in a controlled, calm fashion. "From there you will depart, parse through the death-mists for the Tenerjiin and treat with the Khargrive. And that the Star-Court Speaker Augur Seven-One is to accompany you. Am I wrong?"

"That's it," Cyberwarp confirmed. "Know anythi-"

"Watch," Ikitri interrupted, nodding towards the viewport.

A pair of wedge-shaped battleships materialized beyond, almost as massive as the battleplates and a whole lot less pretty.

"Myod supercarriers," Ikitri identified. "And that-"

Another ship barreled in through a warp-jump at the head of the forming fleet, a miasma of receding energies trailing behind it. It was different to all the others - larger even than the battleplates. It looked more like a mobile fortress, colossal holographic banners trailing behind it.

"-is the Emperor's own flagship."

Hawkmoon ogled the monumental warship. It was like the Cabal's own Leviathan, if even larger and more elegant - disarmingly sleek despite its stature. No gold, only black steel and silver, but it was just as much an awesome sight. "What..." she started to ask, "what's it called?"

"Final Intervention," Ikitri replied. "Only thrice has it seen combat. Only thrice in all the history of the Protectorate has it been deployed. The culmination of ten thousand years of Myod, Taishibethi and Uui innovation - along with a helping of ancient alien technologies."

"Which aliens?" Nacelle idly asked.

"Those that came before," Ikitri answered. "Those who drove the first Arch-Fiend Kharad-Tan to his end. Those who preserved the Verunlix in crystal cells and stone tombs."

"No name?" Hawkmoon questioned.

"The 'Progenitors' works in a colloquial sense. Their true name is lost to us all. It matters not; they are dead now. Not even the holy Sun remembers them."

"What about the Verunlix?" Cyberwarp asked with a frown. "Shouldn't they remember?"

"Perhaps," Ikitri said, growing irritable, "though you would be hard-pressed to find a Verunlix willing to speak of them."

Hawkmoon made an effort of filing that tidbit away - which was ridiculously easy, what with all the free file-space her processor had on standby. The entire thing was spectacularly intuitive too, like a Golden Age military-grade sensorium, saving some personal highlights to enjoy later.

"I get that," she said softly. The others looked at her. "It's a hard thing to do: to not hate your re-creators."

I used to dream about killing mine.

Renaissance was more of a moon than an actual planet, but it was still large enough to rival Earth in terms of sheer size. The gas giant it orbited was mostly unremarkable if not for the close proximity it had to the local star - about as far as Venus would have been from Sol's own sun.

The Tai battlefleet dragged through the rift of the Raven Bridge into the light of a new star and sailed ahead, still an hour out - giving them plenty of room to read the situation before jumping into the fight. The Hive were quick to notice, though, and rushed to meet them - spilling out of their own green portals all around the fleet. The chitin-ships favoured close-combat, even when it came to naval engagements, using their portals to their advantage to flank around opposing formations and blast them with short-range soulfire-weaponry.

This time, though, the Tai were too numerous, and the extra battleplates smashed through the ranks of Cryptships with little effort. Reports of boarding attempts rang across the commlines, but the sheer amount of foldfighters being deployed gave the waves of Tombships and Seeders little room to press their preferred methods of simply barreling into the hulls of warships.

::Kill them all,:: Úthaessel darkly ordered.

The Taishibethi did so with unexpected relish. The Final Intervention led the slaughter - and when the Hive horde began to run thin, with most of their own warships rendered into little more than clouds of scorched debris, it trundled through the remains and purposely glided towards Renaissance - where more Hive vessels waited in close orbit as a reserve.

They really didn't stand a chance.

"Look at them fall," Augur Seven-One purred, his orb almost pressed against the screen of the holographic viewport. Little flashes of orange and green marked where Hive and Tai vessels briefly erupted beneath the heat of enemy shelling, internal compartments filling with fire before the cold of the vacuum snuffed them out. "Watch them tremble with fear."

"The Hive don't fear," Hawkmoon dully replied.

"Not on the outside."

She'd give him that.

Long-range solid-matter projectiles tore holes in the Hive's surviving naval elements, smashing Cryptships apart and even drilling through the reinforced hulls of massive Tombcarriers. The Final Intervention's rail-cannons and beam-emitters didn't stop there, either; they peppered the moon's surface, striking hastily-constructed Hive holdfasts and raking at the stranded ground forces below with rivers of ionized heat. It didn't even need a battlefleet to help it; the Emperor's ship was making short work of just about everything it didn't like the look of.

::Where will this 'Ulhrag' be, do you think?:: Úthaessel inquired. It took Hawkmoon a moment to realize the Emperor was hailing her on a private channel - asking her, not her officers and aides.

::Probably where the fighting's thickest,:: Hawkmoon told her. ::Or possibly helping set up a new brooding site underground. I'd bet on the former, though. Hive love their personal glory.::

::Understood. Thank you, Hawkmoon. I wish you good luck.:: Úthaessel paused, then addressed the entire arsenal ship, her voice blaring through the bridge's comms-systems as opposed to Hawkmoon's own. ::This fight is already won. End of Reservation, you are clear to disengage. Sunspeed.::

"As you will it, Imperial majesty," Ikitri intoned, bowing at the waist, then straightened and turned to the bridge-crew. "Hold fire and disengage! Set course for the Tartarun system, immediately!"

The warp-jump was... a little underwhelming after the brief excitement of approaching Renaissance. All was quiet, all was untroubled, and there wasn't much to see outside beyond the flickering, shifting colours of a warp-tunnel. It was nice, sure, but one could only distract themselves with the sparse scenery of a warp-jump once or twice before it got boring. Well, no, maybe boring wasn't the right word; the lull of it could be nice, especially after a hard days' work (see: raiding a Red Legion weapons depot), but all fired up and ready for a fight - no. Not for her. Not when the Cybertronian equivalent of adrenaline raced through her circuits. The others mirrored her; Cyberwarp's and Nacelle's EM fields fizzled with anticipation, a need to move and fly and act.

Even the Augur fell into the same boat. The shadow-fox paced endlessly within his glassy confines, impatient and raring to go, and his little prickling comments about 'Tenerjiin' and 'traitors' never once stopped.

The guy had issues.

"How many Tenerjiin are there, anyways?" Cyberwarp asked.

"Some hundreds," Augur replied snappishly. "Too many."

"Too many? That's not much at all!"

"You'll consider it the other way around when you meet them," Ikitri chirped, oddly invested in the conversation. He anxiously fidgeted about, preening his wings at the odd interval. "The Tenerjiin are... Each is fearsome in their own right."

"How so?" Nacelle asked.

"They're dangerous, Seeker."

"I sense some history," Hawkmoon sardonically drawled. "Care to share it with the class?"

Ikitri gave her a contemptuous look. "You're mocking me."

"She's being... her," Cyberwarp hesitantly agreed, "but if there's anything you can tell us..."

"We have no idea what to expect down there," Nacelle pointed out, curious. "What are the Tenerjiin even like?"

Ikitri hesitated. "I wouldn't know. I've never spoken with a Tenerjiin myself."

"So you've just fought with one?" Hawkmoon guessed.

"If I had, I wouldn't be standing here."

"Alright then, keep your secrets."

"Tell them," Augur murmured.

Ikitri frowned. "But sir-"

"Tell them," Augur repeated. His fox-form has finally fallen still, staring out at them and listening intently.

The Taishibeth sighed. "As you say." He paused, seeming to consider something. "I... did not fight against a Tenerjiin per se, but I did see action alongside one. I imagine you'll even meet her soon; Narkasa, Cruxian by birth and warlord by choice. One of the Khargrive's own favoured retainers. She was, uh... drafted to us as a loaned gift - from Crux to the Marooner fleets, to assist in the Chivalry Insurgency."

"Chivalry Insurgency?" Cyberwarp echoed.

Ikitri exhaled. "That's a longer tale."

"You could give us the abridged version at least," Hawkmoon prompted.

The Taishibeth gave Augur a look - but the Verunlix offered no help. "So be it. The Chivalry Insurgency began with the discovery of the Ameurshan Feudal States - and the Eecharik Potentate's rebellion against the Protectorate itself..."

AN: Big thanks to Nomad Blue for all his help!

This'll be shortly joined by a companion piece with a rare alternate-POV, just because I'd set a precedent with the narrative already and splitting the chapter's text up to transition to another character felt a little rough to me.