Chapter 51

"Home should be a place we choose"

She walked back into the tower's lobby in a dumbfounded stupor, the claws of fear clamped around her spark. It was irrational, that terror, but it was still all too real. Vos. A formation. Seekers. Of the Exploratory Institution, probably. Or maybe a prince's armada. From Cybertron. It filled her with apprehension, with dread, with guilt. She couldn't-

They were going to-

She was-

No. No no no, they couldn't be coming after her. They couldn't know about her. Thunderhowl shouldn't have told them. He shouldn't have. It wasn't her fault Noctorro died; this was needless! He knew she couldn't go back, couldn't face Vos again. Not with...

Not with everyone else dead.

And her all but responsible for leading them that way. For letting them stay.

She should have fought them harder. Hawkmoon looked back and knew, with the utmost conviction, that it was her fault. It was hard arguing with Northwind, with Nacelle, with Cyberwarp, but not impossible. She should've found a way - and by not doing so, it all lay at her feet. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. Vos would know it the moment it realized she was still alive. Hawkmoon was sure of it - because it was true, wasn't it? Surely they wouldn't let it rest either. She wouldn't blame them not to. Maybe she deserved whatever they saw fit to sentence her with.

But...

It wasn't over. She wasn't done - hell, she'd barely begun her work around the Divide. The Hive were alive, were at large, and they were coming. It didn't matter how long it took; they were on their way to kill everyone. People needed to be warned. Fleets needed to be gathered, armies needed to be rallied, defenses needed to be erected. Civilian populations needed to be relocated away from the edge of the Divide. And no one could know why. At least not fully, they couldn't receive the whole picture. It wouldn't take much for Hive corruption to take hold, to plant fractures in the bureaucracy of a thousand unaligned border worlds. It required a gentle touch. It needed someone better suited for that work than her - but only Hawkmoon remained.

Only her.

No, they couldn't have her. If not for her own sake, then for everyone else's. But to run... they'd know something was up, then. They'd know. And Vos wouldn't let it go. She knew they wouldn't. A Seeker's pride was everything. She didn't need to be a natural Cybertronian to know that. Hell, it was fast becoming her own reality. Pride was all she had left to her. Pride, a spectral fox and a divine blade. Not a lot, all considered. Made what she did have so much more important, so much more worth holding onto.

One of the Eimin-Tin guards shifted from their post and approached her. Hawkmoon watched the serpent, noted the rifle aimed down at the ground, the tail-blade lazily swinging through behind the alien and waited. It stopped before her, raised its masked, angular head and hissed lowly, "You are summoned. Forty-third floor."

"Elulim?" Hawkmoon asked.

The guard just turned around and returned to their post. Hawkmoon withheld a vented sigh and made for the elevators. She punched in the floor number, watched the doors close and tried to keep her servos from shaking. Augur brushed by her leg like a needy cat, unusually touchy.

"Let it go," he murmured. "Think about something else and let this go."

She couldn't. It was impossible; the very idea of it dominated her mind. Seekers were coming. They were going to blame her - and rightly so. She was going to be brought back to face the consequences of her actions - and she was going to see them. Everyone else. Cyberwarp's creators and family. Nacelle's brother. Northwind's cousins and Contrail himself. They were going to know her for a fraction of her true guilt and they were going to be disgusted with it.

The elevator stopped and dinged. The doors opened half a second later, slower than usual. Some security system, Hawkmoon expected. An automated system double-checking that she really was who they thought her to be. As if there could be any other Seeker on Penchant. Others were coming, but they still had some ways to travel yet. The room beyond was lavish and antique, illuminated by floating constructs of black steel and yellow glass that bathed their surroundings in a golden hue. At the end was a large desk with a monitor system and a holoprojector. Over it, along the wall, hung old relics that were assumedly of the pre-Rise Eimin-Tin.

The serpent behind that table was not Elulim, however. It was not even Akildn; it was Thema, small and speckle-scaled and with a beaded necklace of weathered iron marbles around his neck. Green ribbons traced through his sparse mane of quills at the base of his neck and when his tri-pronged tongue briefly dipped out to taste the air Hawkmoon saw that it was studded with piercings. Broad purple body paint had been recently lathered over the Eimin-Tin's body, coursing and swirling around his neck and spine in delicate if generous strokes. He wore a partial black biosuit and his tail spike was gilded in ornamental gold. Even his glossy dragonfly wings had been touched up, inscribed with strange ritualistic scarring that glinted as the grooves caught the light at just the right angle.

Rampage's spark rested on the desk in front of him and beside that a small spherical construct of gold and amber, nestling with its own stray wires tidily bushed beneath it.

"Seeker," Thema greeted. His voice was smaller than that of the Akildn, nowhere near as deep, and it lacked the harsh hiss of the other Eimin-Tin she'd spoken with. It was sophisticated, his speech, and refined to such a degree it almost gave the language of the Taishibethi a run for its money. "Thank you for coming."

Hawkmoon eyed Rampage's spark carefully. "You know what that is?"

"Oh yes. Our dear Elulim was very forthcoming." Thema stood and gestured to the spot in front of his desk. The floor shifted and a chair transformed out of it, constructed so pointedly for a Vosian frame it was almost unsettling. Hawkmoon reluctantly took to it - and even then, sitting down, she realized she still towered over the serpent. "Rampage was known to us."

"Sorry about that."

Thema paused and tilted his head. "He was no official ally of the Stratocracy," he said slowly, considering every word, "and more often than not invited an element of chaos in the dealings he had with our people - particularly our esteemed Akildn. We are sorry to see him go, for he brought news and profit with every visit, but he was a maverick through and through and we will not weep for him. Not as we will for gentle Yrsfa, for cherished Phorus."

"Oh," Hawkmoon said.

"This, though, does befuddle," Thema professed, gesturing to the spark with a flick of his tail. "It still emits an electromagnetic field - a staple trait of your people, yes? It moves. As far as we know, this isn't natural. None of the other frames we've dug out of the earth exhibit this phenomenon. So I ask you - is he still alive?"

Hawkmoon hesitated. She hesitated hard.

"I see," Thema said. He glanced at the spark. "Fascinating. But I fear this could be another irritating trick of his; another bout of anarchy to flaunt before our authority. I don't want it. The Stratocracy doesn't want it - not within our borders. This is something wrong and it needs to go. I've considered selling it abroad. Cybertronian organs can pass for a surprisingly high price. But," Thema sighed - and made a show of it too, if Hawkmoon were to be honest, "our noble Elulim made a point of proclaiming that the spark was in your custody; given the... concerning developments that have come to light, mostly in relation to your own ill-advised hunting trip through the forests below, I'm more than willing to see that it remains so - so long as you take it with you, wherever you go next. Experiment with it, fire it out an airlock, I care not. Just make sure it never returns to Eimin-Tin space. Do you understand me?"

"Uh, yes," Hawkmoon said, blinking. She gathered herself. "Yes, thank you."

"Very well. Then-"

"He was a thorn in your side, then?"

Thema raised his head. "Excuse me?"

"You didn't like him," Hawkmoon pointed out. "You're all but rewarding me for killing him."

"That... is a dangerous accusation to make," Thema said carefully. He was watching her closely, with violet eyes too sharp by half.

"No accusation."

"Insinuation, then. Were we anywhere else I might be pressed to bring harsh retribution against you."

"Beware," Augur softly whispered into her audial.

Hawkmoon pursed her lips. The little serpent was drawing a line. She hadn't said anything untrue, but he was much too quick to shoot down any hint of familiarity for her liking. He didn't like control lying anywhere but with him. "My apologies," she stiffly replied. "I did not mean to offend."

Thema studied her. "Apology accepted," he smoothly returned. "For the spark my staff will prepare a containment unit, small and easy to transport - and to keep the remains' EM field from... bothering you. Is this acceptable?"

"Very. Thank you."

Thema clicked his fingers and the spark disappeared in a flash of transmat. "Now then," he said, smiling in that cold, dangerous way all the Eimin-Tin did. He indicated to the other device. "Your companion, the gracious Ser'ket, left this in our care under explicit instructions to present it to you. I see no reason not to; she has always dealt fair and honourably with us, and it would be remiss of me not to return that favour. A lodge-built transformation codex, if I am not mistaken." Thema glanced at it. "They come at an even higher price than dead sparks, rare as they are. And this one... well, I know there would be plenty of parties in neighbouring stellar sectors interested in claiming it for themselves. So, to that end, I advise that you secure it quickly - within your own chassis if it so suits."

"I... see." Hawkmoon looked the codex over. It was small. Definitely small enough to press in beside her T-cog and hook up. "Not familiar with these things myself. Is it..."

"Is it what?" Thema looked back her way.

"Is there anything inside it?"

Thema paused. "Seeker, I'm all but certain we both know what's inside it. News travels quickly on Penchant."

Hawkmoon pressed her lips in a thin line. "I see."

"Is it not to your liking? I'm sure we could-"

"I'll take it," Hawkmoon sullenly interjected. "Why not."

"... Splendid." Thema nudged it over. Hawkmoon took it into her own servos and looked it over; it wasn't remarkable on the outside, really. Just looked like any other strange Cybertronian doohickey. She filed it away into internal storage.

"Is that all?" she asked.

"Possibly," Thema said flippantly. "As I understand it, you won't be here for much longer."

Thanks for the reminder, Hawkmoon thought darkly. Not like I was going to forget or anything. "Maybe not."

"Maybe not," Thema echoed. "Well, you should certainly consider departing in the near future. Given the news of a Drezhari incursion, I can't promise there won't be a certain... how should I put it, a less than welcome reaction to visiting mechanoforms. The mob is a frightful beast, you see. Easily swayed - and always given to poor judgement, sometimes even against the word of our beloved Akildn."

Stay any longer and Elulim won't be able to protect you, he was saying. Hawkmoon nodded slowly, "I see." She stood up. "Thank you, Thema, for everything."

"It was my pleasure." He stood up too, playing the part of a true gentleman.

Hawkmoon bowed her head and made to leave - then stopped. "About the Drezhari," she said, half-turning. "What's the Stratocracy's stance on the matter so far?"

Thema's smile faltered. "War," he solemnly told her.

Hawkmoon fought to keep the irritation from crossing her faceplates; there went having the last word.

She took the elevator up to the roof. There were a pair of guards on the other end who stepped in the way, but a sharp wordless call from the direction of the temple there had them quickly moving aside. Hawkmoon stepped past them, looked around and found Elulim perched on one of veir Venator tree's moving roots. Ve raised veir snout in half-hearted greeting. Veir arm was in a cast. If there was one thing Hawkmoon was glad for, it was the rate at which mechanical frames could be repaired compared to the healing process of most organic bodies.

She stopped by the bottom of the temple and watched the tree carefully. "Can I come up?" Hawkmoon gingerly asked.

Elulim turned veir head and whispered something. The Venator trembled but its jaws did not reveal themselves. "You can," Elulim told her. "It won't hurt you."

Hawkmoon jetted up and landed on the stonework between the living roots, eyeing the tree warily. "Lots of trust here."

Elulim just nodded and patted the space beside ver. Hawkmoon took one look at the root, swallowed her reservations and sat down next to ver. The tree... didn't react. Well, it rumbled a little, but it didn't bite her head off. Hawkmoon judged that to be a good thing.

"So..." Hawkmoon started to say. "I... I want to say thank you. For getting me out of there alive."

"You watch my back, I watch yours," Elulim parroted. Ve stared off into the distance. Into the city beyond the edge of veir tower. "We were agreed."

"Yeah. We were," Hawkmoon said softly. "We are."

Elulim glanced at her. "I take it Thema has spoken with you?"

Hawkmoon sighed. "... Yeah."

Ve turned veir head away. "He's like that."

"How is it he's got authority over you?"

"The merits of being hatched into the right bloodline," Elulim bitterly spat. "He inherited his position. He inherited... me. The responsibility of keeping me alive, keeping me in fighting shape."

"A handler, then," Hawkmoon whispered. "Yikes."

"Indeed."

"That why you live so dangerously? To spite him?"

Elulim snorted. "Maybe in part." Ve paused. "Have you ever endured treatment like this?"

"Like what? Having a boss?"

"No, not... I am Akildn. My entire existence has been shaped by others. They took the egg in which I developed, injected it with growth serum and new chemicals, rendered me something beyond my choosing. They designed me as an idol, perfect and elegant - to be well-behaved. Is it any wonder I buck against those chains?"

Hawkmoon took a moment to formulate a response. "No," she said, "can't say I ever have. Lived under that kind of pressure, anyways."

"No. Because you're alone. You're free to make your own decisions."

"Not for much longer," Hawkmoon bitterly mused.

Elulim looked back at her. "I heard."

"Ser'ket told me. She... I don't know. I hardly know anything anymore." Hawkmoon braced her knees against her chest and curled her arms around her legs. The root below her was still and welcoming; far from the voracious predators she'd crossed down in the Undergrowth's forests. "Sometimes civilization just feels like one bad idea after another. I love it something fierce but it doesn't fit me."

"I concur."

"Still, we have our dues to pay." Hawkmoon paused. "How did the Stratocracy react? After we got back?"

Elulim shivered. "Poorly."

"Oh?"

"Two Akildn dead. No one likes that. They're turning most of that anger towards the Drezhari, and rightly so, but..." Elulim exhaled. "It will mean tighter reins. They will leash us like unruly beasts. If it weren't for this coming war, I imagine they'd exile many of us, myself in particular, to another couple of centuries in pod-sleep."

"I'm sorry."

Elulim waved her off. "Our venture would have doubtlessly ended even worse without your aid. Or..." ve groaned, "or the dragonling."

"You really don't like her," Hawkmoon observed.

"She's an icon of order. A favourite of Thema and the rest of his pit-vipers. How can I ever respect something like that?"

"Not because she was a dragon, then?"

"Are you joking? Dragons are beautiful." Elulim turned to her with a toothy smile. "They are dangerous and unrepentant. They are the form of ultimate desire. I dislike the dragonling despite what she is. Not because of it. If she were a true dragon I could... I could petition her to free me from all this."

Hawkmoon frowned. "That's not a route you want to take."

"No?"

"Wishing is a dangerous business."

"You wished," Elulim pointed out, "and you still live."

"Not like I used to," Hawkmoon retorted. "Ser'ket was unpleasant, but she had the right of it - dragons are monsters."

"Not all monsters are so terrible."

"These ones are. I'm speaking from experience." Hawkmoon plucked out the transformation codex, tossed it into the air and caught it. "They don't have a place in our universe. Certainly not the future I envision."

"Is that...?" Elulim trailed off. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Throw it away, maybe. Or break it." Hawkmoon held it between her digits. "It would be easy."

"A waste."

"Maybe a disaster averted. You never know with dragons."

Elulim snorted. "You took offence at the dragonling's paranoia, but the moment she leaves you mantle it on your own."

Hawkmoon opened her mouth. Closed it. "She had a point," she admitted. "Though she went about it the wrong way at every turn."

"And what's to stop you from making that same mistake?"

"A healthy degree of scepticism."

"No. You're just scared of change."

"Change I can handle. I've been rolling with the punches well enough, haven't I? But the changes a dragon brings in is a different story altogether."

"Even if that dragon is dead?" Elulim questioned.

"I'm never trusting a dragon. Never."

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't even be here if not for them."

There was a moment of silence.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Elulim softly asked. "You're alive."

"I'm alone," Hawkmoon pointed out. "I'm surviving, not living. You have your vices and your luxuries and you get to taste the good parts of independent freedom every so often - me, I'm lucky to not bleed out in a ditch the moment I hit a snag. You have your safety net. I have nothing. When you think dragon, you think only of what it'll give you. When I think dragon, I think only of what it'll do to me. It isn't the same."

"Then maybe we're both missing the point," Elulim mused.

"What's your interest in this?" Hawkmoon sharply inquired.

Elulim shrugged. "As I said, dragons are beautiful. You have a chance to mantle that for yourself, to take that shape."

"I don't want to be beautiful. I want to actually, genuinely live. I want to keep others alive."

"You mistake my meaning. It is their strength I find beautiful. Their lethality. The power they bear. In taking that for yourself, you have the power to avail of wishes granted with none of the risk."

"Ser'ket wasn't granting wishes," Hawkmoon shot back. "That's not what it entails."

"You could grant one of mine." Elulim turned to her.

She froze. Hawkmoon froze. "I..." she hesitated. "I'm... flattered, 'Lulim. I am. But I'm not... I can't. Not right now."

Elulim scrutinized her. "So I stand a chance, if I wait?"

"It's not that simple," Hawkmoon asserted, schooling her faceplates. "I don't know. I can't speak for future me, but... look. I don't know if I'm physically fine with it. Mentally is an issue we're not even going to touch, because we both know I'm not. I just… I don't know."

Elulim said nothing.

"I'm drawing a line here," Hawkmoon said. "A boundary. Take that as you will. I'm not going to say never, but I am going to say not now. I appreciate all you've done, I like you, but I'm not in a state to throw myself into anyone's arms for a long while."

"I see," Elulim said in a neutral tone.

"Sorry."

"I was going to ask if you could help me with another problem - like looking over one of my favourite rifles - but that's good to know."

"... Oh." Hawkmoon's wings rose of their own volition. Elulim noticed them and tilted veir head.

"You loved her dearly," ve remarked, "this partner of yours. And you mourn her greatly."

Hawkmoon felt her spark stall. "Yeah," she croaked. "I did. I do."

"What would she say about this?" Elulim gestured to the codex.

"She..." Hawkmoon offlined her optics. She could all but see Cyberwarp, trying to fight off a smile in favour of practised exasperation. "She would ask what the harm in it could really be. She would want to trust."

"And?"

"And she would be wrong." Hawkmoon abruptly stood. "That was what got her killed. That was what took them all from me. My trine. My formation. They should have left well enough alone. They should have listened to me when I told them to go, that the Hive were-" she choked off. Hawkmoon vented deeply, aching to left out a deep breath. "The Hive." She turned around, facing Elulim. "I'm here because of them."

Elulim tilted veir head the other way. "Who?"

"I should've..." Hawkmoon trailed off. "I was across the Divide. We were - whole formation. Looking for energon; there was a fuel crisis back home. Instead we found a civilization - an alien collective led by the Taishibethi. They were strong. They were fierce. They were wonderful. And they died, because another species, the Hive, murdered them all. Razed their worlds. Shattered their battlefleets. Killed their Emperor. They're... they're like a tidal wave, sweeping over everything. I..." Hawkmoon gritted her denta. "I survived them. Because of Aiakos. Didn't matter much, because she all but tried to kill me later. The Hive, though, they're still around. Just over the Brachian Divide, annihilating everything. I came back here because... because I think they'll cross over at some point. Could be next orn, could be another thousand vorns; all I know is that they'll ride this way eventually. It's their purpose: to kill and destroy all they find."

"Clan Krensha broadcasted a warning regarding a threat by way of the Brachian Divide," Elulim said. Ve sounded surprised. "This was you?"

Hawkmoon dipped her helm. "I don't know how much sway you have," she said, "but just... I don't know. I'm not right for this. Everyone needs to prepare. I know your people are going to war with the Drezhari-"

"Only so far as to drive them back to their own territories," Elulim explained. "No further."

"All the same, you need to keep an eye on the Divide. The Hive threaten everyone - and they're too strong for any of us to truly destroy. All we can do is try to fend them off, and to do that we need every advantage. We need to be aware of them from the get-go. If no one's on alert, they'll carve a beachhead on this side of the Divide. You need... you really need to keep watching. And warn everyone else, whoever you can."

Elulim nodded slowly. "I see," ve said.

"Do you?"

"A hostile alien species, across the Divide. Beware."

"That's..." Hawkmoon's shoulders slumped. "I... I suppose."

Elulim gave her a funny look. "It's not that complicated."

"But it's everything. There's nothing more important than this. They're true monsters, as bad as dragons."

"Maybe. I suppose we'll see one day."

"You're not taking this seriously," Hawkmoon accused.

Elulim shrugged. "I have yet to wholly think it though," ve said, "but I'll consider your warning very carefully."

"And the Stratocracy?"

"I'll speak with the other Akildn about this. That should garner some interest from above."

"I... okay. Okay, that works. Thank you."

Elulim's wings fluttered. "You're very welcome, Hawkmoon."

Hawkmoon looked around. "What now?"

"Now? Now the Stratocracy prepares for war - and the little people below will celebrate their Devil Days some weeks earlier than was previously scheduled."

"Devil Days?" Hawkmoon questioned, confused.

"A festival," Elulim explained. "I've told you of the Iiraca, yes?"

"The other native people of Penchant," Hawkmoon said slowly. "Who your ancestors ate."

"Yes. The Devil Days are a bidecadal celebration - to remember the period in which early Eimin-Tin wiped out the Iiraca and took over their pretence of a civilization. It's merely an excuse to parade with their little four-eyed masks and fill the streets with blossoms. War is prohibited on the Devil Days. The Stratocracy has moved it up for the Drezhari's sake."

"Sounds... nice."

"It's noise and heat, that's all it is, but the drinks flow freely and the food is plentiful. Normally there is a period of fasting before we gorge, but now..." Elulim shrugged. "I still hunger after our trek through the Undergrowth. If nothing else, it'll sate that itch."

"When's it due?"

"Tonight. Tomorrow. The day after that. Then our fleets muster and we Akildn are to be processed for eliminating Drezhari figureheads. How long until your kin arrive?"

Hawkmoon grimaced. "An orn, maybe, at most," she said. "Can't be much longer than that. Seekers travel fast."

"And you won't try to leave before then?"

"What's the point? Won't be able to outrun them, and it'll just make things worse for me. What can I do but wait?"

"You could partake," Elulim said, veir eyes glinting. "The Devil Days are open to all - Eimin-Tin, Akildn and other. Maybe you could act the part of the Iiraca."

"Doesn't sound enticing."

"We'll see. It's that or sulk."

"Maybe I'll grab a couple of high-grade cubes," Hawkmoon muttered.

"Suit yourself." Elulim leaned back against the Venator's trunk.

Hawkmoon vented and looked across the city, then, after a time, back down to the transformation codex. She really could throw it away. At that height it was certain to shatter on impact. That way no one would get it.

"I agree with the serpent," Augur piped up. "I don't see any point in tossing it aside. Not when it could have some use."

What use? Hawkmoon wanted to snap. The only thing it'll do is give a mechanoform a dragon's shape. I'd be putting myself at the mercy of Aiakos' ghost. She boosted away and landed by the edge of the tower. "This was a mistake," she murmured, so quiet her lips barely moved. Her back was to Elulim anyways.

"Are you sure about that?" Augur questioned.

Hawkmoon didn't reply. She simply held the codex out.

"What if this is it?" Augur continued. "What if this was your wish?"

She held still. Cocked her helm to the side. Listened.

"You wished for agency. You wished to be free of the controlling influence of other, greater powers. I can think of nothing more free, more independent than a dragon."

"It's wrong," she whispered. "I'd run the risk of actually putting her in my head."

"Only if Aiakos lives," Augur responded. "And it has been some time since her whispers have fallen silent. She was ever the patient hunter, yes, but never the subtle one. Where Aiakos goes, the futures of entire species shifts. That's a power worth stealing."

"The risk-"

"There is none. You merely shy away from carving yourself in the image of those you hold responsible for all your worldly woes."

"I-"

"What is my purpose here if not to guide you?" Augur said, growing impatient. "I'm giving you my advice. Take it or don't but choose soon. If the little serpent was correct then carrying it in hand only makes you a target. Take it into your frame, Seeker. Or drop it now."

She could. She would.

"It would give you an edge," Augur slyly added. "Is that not what we've been searching for?"

An edge.

Hawkmoon retracted her arm.

An edge. Against the Hive. Against the spear-creature. Against the Dark.

An edge. To fight back against forces beyond mortal scope.

An edge.

She hated how the words rang in her mind, how they crashed through her processor until they were all she thought about. An edge.

"Elulim," Hawkmoon called out. She craned her helm around. Elulim lazily perked up from veir perch against the tree. Hawkmoon vented. "Do you know if that Insecticon, Nettle, is still around?"

Augur padded by the foot of the berth, his tails flicking. He was happy. She wasn't. Hawkmoon was starting to think that was how their entire partnership was going to pan out - him roping her into something she wasn't comfortable with and her having to stifle the urge to grumble because everyone else would just think her insane for complaining about an invisible fox. It was frustrating to say the least. Hawkmoon did her best to strike it from her mind and think of other, happier things, but the whole situation didn't sit well with her.

Her chassis was open. Her internals were bared. It left her feeling exposed, at anyone and everyone's mercy. Fortunately only Nettle was present, Augur notwithstanding, and the little Insecticon struck her as being too frightened of her and Elulim both to dare try anything sneaky. Hawkmoon was to remain lucid and in control during the whole operation too; she wanted to be sure everything went well, that it all ended happily on her terms. Elulim's tower and the wider city may have been safe territory, but she didn't trust it nearly so much as she wanted to. It was a sanctuary, just not one of her choosing.

Nettle began by tracing her T-cog, studying the wires running out of it and mumbling to himself. He inserted another bout of cables into it, as well as to the nearby energon lines that fed her transformation systems the necessary power, and he began threading it around the transformation codex she'd handed him just before.

"May feel strange," Nettle told her, "but no pain. Nettle know so. Pain? No."

"Get on with it," Hawkmoon impatiently urged him.

He first connected the T-codex to the power supply. Hawkmoon felt a brief lull in her energy output, a dip into her reserves, but it wasn't enough to remain noticeable and very soon it evened out. The codex, she saw, began to emit some little red lights along its delicate golden length. Nettle next inserted it into her chest, then finally attached the connectors to her T-cog. That... actually prompted a shock; static ran up and down her frame, along her limbs and through her spinal strut. Everything shifted - or, no. No, it wanted to shift. A message popped up on her HUD.

/alert: downloading software update/

/new transformation modification detected/

/additional frame upgrade may be necessary to facilitate new software/

"Uh," Hawkmoon said.

Nettle tilted his many-eyed head. "Problem?"

"I'm receiving... okay, it's feeding me specs?" Hawkmoon frowned. She kept expecting a bite - the feeling of teeth on the inside, tearing her asunder. All there was was static, and that quickly faded away. "I need more... more."

"Plating, yes?" Nettle asked. "More material? Send Nettle a list?"

Hawkmoon beamed him a datapacket. Nettle downloaded the info and nodded to himself.

"One moment," he said, then scurried off to the Eimin-Tin pair near the door. Same serfs from earlier on, if Hawkmoon wasn't mistaken. Or maybe they were just another identical servant duo taking the next shift. It wasn't exactly easy to tell with the serpents. Most of them liked their uniformity a little too much. All the same, the two of them set to work with Nettle - calling for extra materials while dragging out what they already had on-site. It was almost disconcerting to watch; like witnessing a surgeon just pull a whole human arm out of a closet. Or, well, perhaps not quite so explicit, but Hawkmoon couldn't shake the morbid sense that the metal and glass and carbon weave they were portioning out were going to be her new body parts.

At last Nettle had gathered all he needed and carted it over. He double-checked on the T-codex and, satisfied her frame had taken it well, closed her chassis back over. Hawkmoon almost breathed with relief as her plating slid back into place.

"Now what?" she warily inquired.

"Now," Nettle said, raising a blowtorch, "Nettle helps Seeker find her shape."

It was a couple of joors before Nettle finished - and only half of that was spent soldering new elements and modifying the architecture already implemented upon her frame. The rest of the period Nettle watched over her as her body and the nanites within began subsuming the new material at a frantic, ravenous rate. The Insecticon had wisely set aside a pair of energon cubes for her, because her engines burned through her tanks faster than Hawkmoon would have otherwise felt safe with. At last, though, Nettle stepped back and she was free to sit up and look herself up and down.

The first thing she noted was her cockpit: repaired since her fight with Rampage in the Undergrowth, but now it was ringed in teeth. Hooked, serrated metal fangs ran along the bottom of the canopy on the outside, sharp and wicked and pressing against the glass. Her claws were longer, the last segment on each of her digits extended by another half. The back of her pedes had their own spurs in the shape of a single eagle talon each. She even had a battlemask where previously she had none, just to put some of the extra mass towards something useful - curiously carved to induce the imagery of the tucked down beak of an owl, covering the entire lower half of her faceplates. There was a little, tiny weight at the back of her neck and, after prompting it, Hawkmoon found a canvas of delicate if resistant material flowing around her neck and over the back of her helm - creating a makeshift hood and... poncho. No cloak, a poncho. Oh her inner Hunter was stamping her foot in frustration. Hawkmoon tapped at it, tugged it to be sure of its quality, then pushed her hood down. The almost silky weave was engraved with interlocking hexagonal shapes. A solar sail, Hawkmoon guessed. Something to catch starlight and glide along with it. Even her optics felt different, as if her lenses had been reinforced with a new updated interactive system.

Hawkmoon swung her legs over the side of the berth and stood up. She was expecting to stumble under the new weight, as she had when first entering her current body, but instead she found her internal systems automatically accounted for it and her balance was as perfect and steady as always.

"Need more coolant," Hawkmoon vented, searching for something to complain about.

Nettle approached and, after checking with her, topped her engines up. "Very good, yes?" he asked. Fishing for compliments, that one. Hawkmoon didn't see any reason in denying him.

"It's good," she replied. "Thank you, Nettle."

"High honour, serve Ser'ket," Nettle crowed.

That put a dampener on her mood. Hawkmoon's already small EM field tightened even closer around her. "I'm sure it is," she drily remarked. She stepped from the berth into the middle of the room, to give herself some space. "Now I just..."

"Test it," Augur prompted her.

Nettle, oblivious to the fox, nodded vigorously. His six red optics shone with daring curiosity. "Transform, yes-yes."

Hawkmoon vented a groan. "Okay," she quietly said to herself. "I can... do it once. Just to see."

"Your naivety is so entertaining," Augur snorted. "Just do it, Hawkmoon. Be the dragon."

That's not as encouraging as you might think it sounds, Hawkmoon thought. All the same she reached inside, reached for her transformation protocols as she would normally do to assume her foldfighter form, but therein she found a new secondary option - something foreign and of remarkably different code. Where the Tai foldfighter and the Cybertronian jet before it had been inanimate, static dead things, the newcomer was almost alive - like watching one of her Exo dreams unfold in real time, contained within the confines of firewalls and the codex inside. She didn't want to touch it. There was something so... taboo about it. Hawkmoon stalled as those feelings assailed her, those oh so human connotations, and in her mind she reasoned well I'm not fully human anymore, am I and she opened the new protocol up.

Her frame folded in on itself. Nothing new there. This time, though, her wings followed along - coming apart and folding in on themselves, adding to the new mass evolving where once a humanoid shape had stood. Her sight transferred to a new set of ocular systems, four of them, arrayed over the steel skull of some monstrous, primal beast. Her new form had a narrow, triangular snout, powerful jaws with a slight nose-horn at the end, jaws full of teeth and crackling Arc. Horns ran back from the rear of her skull, all but giving her a brutal crown. That skull was mounted upon the end of a powerful neck, along the spine of which ran down a series of spiked ridges with golden holographic sails webbing between. At her shoulder sprouted no legs or arms but a pair of massive wings, utilizing the same solar sails used for her hood and poncho. They were shaped like those of a bat, perhaps even a flying fox - with spires of delicate metal framing to hold those canvases of reflective filament together and offer them flexibility. On each wing, at the very top little more than halfway down their lengths, they had a clawed thumb that helped them act as forward legs when partially folded.

Her rear legs were digitigrade and powerful and all but shaped like the claws of a bird of prey, fit to grasp and rend. Behind those, her spinal struts ended with a long and sinuous tail. The plating along the appendage grew sharp and jagged the further it traveled, giving it a sense of menace, and Hawkmoon found she could exert a fine level of control over it. Honestly, the whole thing felt like an even more alien experience than becoming a spaceship. Hawkmoon blanched at her form, found herself with no words to describe it, and came to the conclusion that it... it was about what she expected, sans the living essence of an Ahamkara residing within her like a Hive Worm.

"Huh," Hawkmoon said - and was shocked to find the sound came from a vocaliser within her draconic jaws. She had a voicebox. Sure, the other Krenshans could speak in their beast modes, but this... She... she was a dragon. Dragons could speak - but the shapes they took were rarely evolved for such. This, though, was the shape of a genuine dragon. A... what was the old term? Two legs, two wings - a wyvern, right? She was a wyvern. A robotic four-eyed wyvern with... right, yes, her weapon systems were still operational. Her shoulder cannon remained just that, propping up between her shoulder blades like a tank turret. Hawkmoon filed that away and, activating her shard carbines, found they unfolded along her shoulders as well. Her wrist-blades had moved and, at her prodding, extended from the tip of her tail in a fan-like shape. She retracted them quickly; the tail was still throwing her for a loop.

There was another function, though. Another addition to her combat protocols - new and foreign, uploaded with the rest of the T-codex's specs and activated solely upon transformation into this form. It linked with her jaws. Hawkmoon had a fair idea as to what that entailed - and wisely strayed away from it. She didn't want to test Thema's hospitality any further than she already had.

"All well?" Nettle triumphantly asked, grinning widely. "Seeker happy?"

"It's... yeah, it's... it's pretty good," Hawkmoon replied. She didn't know if she approved or not. It was still too new, still too other. "Weapon systems are good, weight distribution is fine, energon levels are steady... but I haven't checked this thing's flight systems yet."

Nettle's smile faded. "Seeker try outside?" he suggested. "Low elevation? Safe-alive, yes?"

"No, we'll do this from the top." Hawkmoon stalked towards the elevator. The Eimin-Tin serfs scurried out of her way. She didn't blame them. Her wings made her already daunting frame look even bigger than it was - and there was little else in the universe more frightening than a dragon, particularly plated in Cybertronian steel. "Come on, bring us up."

"... If Seeker orders," Nettle said, sounding none too excited. Augur, on the other hand, all but pranced after her.

"I like this," he purred, coming to a stop under her sternum and pacing in place, looking her over. Hawkmoon glanced down at him with two of her four optics. "This power suits you," he added.

Hawkmoon quietly scoffed. "Sure," she vented, framing it as if grumbling to herself. "Whatever you say."

They went up, reached the summit, stepped outside. There were guards there, but no Elulim - and the former got the fright of their lives the moment Hawkmoon dragged herself into the daylight. They almost took aim at her, hissing loudly, but then at a bark from what she could only assume was their leading officer they reluctantly returned to their posts. She ignored them from the get-go, quickly striding over the edge of the tower. Hawkmoon looked down. Long way to go. Long way to fall - but she was a Seeker. Heights didn't bother her. They hadn't for some time.

She raised her wings. Her rocket thrusters emerged on the middle of her back, but her new form's flight systems didn't naturally activate them to start with - instead switching on another pair of devices along the framework of her wings. Anit-grav emitters. No real velocity, but it would keep her aloft. Hawkmoon edged to the precipice and... dove away, headfirst, wings out wide. Her sudden descent snapped and reversed with a single flap, a heavy beat. Another dragged her up some distance, back to level with the tower. Hawkmoon's processor was full of focus; it was frightening to her, the whole thing was, and she was relying wholeheartedly on the protocols that had shipped over with everything else. It was something she had to learn, like she had for flying both as a jet and as a Cybertronian femme. It was a while before she turned to her boosters, just to get her bearings, but the moment she did her momentum shot forward nearly as fast as she would have been as a foldfighter and with much more manoeuvrability.

Hawkmoon circled around the tower, running through the motions, understanding it, committing it to memory and allowing herself to grow content with it. To... enjoy it. She was flying. Which altogether wasn't that impressive for a Seeker who'd crossed the gulf of space on their lonesome, without the aid of a passenger shuttle, but she did so in the copied shape of a living beast, an inhuman creature. A dragon. The word rang through her mind, dreaded and hated, and some part in the back of her psyche began the painstaking task of pulling the term apart - one word, two meanings. Dragon as they were. Dragon as she was. They were different. They had to be. She wasn't like them. She never would be, mortal-born as she was. Maybe Augur was right, Hawkmoon mused. Maybe there had been a grain of wisdom in his advice. She was never going to admit as much to him, but... it wasn't as bad as she was expecting. Far from it. It was fine.

It was just fine.

Hawkmoon, at long last, landed back again on the tower's roof and transformed back, standing up and venting deeply.

"How do you feel?" Augur softly whispered into her audial.

She shrugged him off, throwing him from her shoulders. He fell gracefully, landing on all four feet. "Like I've snuck out of curfew to kiss my girlfriend again. Nice for the moment - but mom's gonna find out and she's going to kick my ass."

Augur quizzically looked up at her. "Pardon?"

"Forget about it."

Nettle rushed over. "Seeker speaking to Nettle?" he asked, worried.

Hawkmoon paused, then shook her head. "Nah, it's nothing. Just me rambling. Everything's fine. Flight protocols are perfect."

"To Seeker's satisfaction?"

"Yeah, you did good work. Lemme..." Hawkmoon reached into internal storage, pulled out one of the rhenium slates Rampage had given her and handed it over. "For your help."

Nettle ogled it. "Very much. Seeker very kind."

"Yeah yeah, take it."

Nettle snatched it out of her grip and... started nibbling on it.

"Oh," Hawkmoon said with a frown. "I thought... oh, okay. Wow. Well then." She watched him a moment longer before taking her leave. "Huh." She stopped by the elevator, turned her helm to look down at one of the guards and said, "If Elulim ends up looking for me, tell ver I've gone back to the bar. Ve should know what I mean."

The guard reluctantly dipped their head. "As you say, Seeker."

"Thanks."

The saloon hadn't changed. But she had. Hawkmoon walked in feeling bigger, taller. Heavier too, if but for the weight of her impending seizure by incoming Seekers resting on her shoulders. She marched through the bar, towards the booth she'd met with Rampage and the other Akildn, and found it occupied by a pair of small dry cephalopods playing a game of... something involving little steel triangles over a copper plate. They looked up as her shadow fell over them, gawked at her with five inky black eyes each and the left one squeaked something.

"Room for one more?" Hawkmoon asked.

The cephalopods looked at each other. The right one flicked its primary tentacle in a come hither motion.

"Cool." Hawkmoon sat down beside it. "So, what are we playing?"

Elulim caught up to her a joor later, two high-grade cubes in. Hawkmoon had a soft buzz going, the delicate beginnings of an overcharge, and it loosened her up pretty starkly. One of the cephalopods had left, but the other was happy to stick around - and they'd attracted some others of various different species. Hawkmoon couldn't understand what any of them were saying. She didn't really need to; the board game they had going was relatively straight forward and it was just the right kind of fun that transcended the barriers of language. Still, it made the Akildn's arrival that much more welcome. Hawkmoon raised her third cube to ver and mouthed a greeting. Elulim, for veir part, tilted veir head.

"Having fun?" ve asked.

"The very best," Hawkmoon replied. "I've made friends. Don't know any of their names, but hey, I like 'em."

Elulim looked her over. "You've changed."

"Yep."

"You went through with it?"

"Devil on my shoulder told me to," Hawkmoon said with a shrug. She shot Augur a cheeky if discreet sneer. "Gotta stop giving in at some point."

"We all have our moments of weakness," Elulim said flippantly. Ve narrowed veir eyes on her. "But this suits you."

Hawkmoon grimaced. "It is what it is."

"You don't approve?"

"It's unsolicited change. Ser'ket had me in that unenviable position: give in to spite, make myself a target for every Cybertronian vagabond, or take a chance and hope it doesn't kill me. What a bitch, right?"

"Right." Elulim sharply turned veir head and half the booth cleared out. Ve slid in to sit beside her. "Deep in your cups, I see."

"One last hurrah," Hawkmoon murmured, idly swirling her cube. It was almost full to the brim. "Can't imagine it'll be anything but dry wherever they drag me next."

"You should have waited. I could have gathered others, organised a true celebration. Devil Days are upon us."

Hawkmoon shot her a look. "You're just looking for a chance to drink."

"And you aren't?" Elulim scoffed. Ve motioned out, to one of the saloon's busy staff, and held up a single claw. The Eimin-Tin saw, briefly floundered and then bowed before swiftly scurrying away. "I know Aspheri's eager to get out. Veir handler's even stricter than mine."

"Oof. Ve's grounded, then?"

"For the moment."

Hawkmoon paused and thought something over. "But they're letting you out to fight the Drezhari?"

Elulim nodded once. "Yes. To a degree. They'll give us mission parameters and predetermined targets. They will unleash us surgically, not all at once and not without the Stratocracy ultimately in control. This is how we wage war."

"And the Drezhari?"

"What about them?"

"I dunno, just..." Hawkmoon hesitated. "Aren't you worried they're going to come at you hard?"

"They haven't yet."

"I mean, some of the constructs we crossed out there were pretty mean."

"Killed them, didn't we?" Elulim pointed out.

"No," Hawkmoon said softly. "Rampage did."

"And you killed Rampage."

"I won't be fighting them, 'Lulim. Even if I were free to. It's not my place."

"You're a soldier, aren't you? We could hire you."

"I'm a soldier, sure. But one built for a different kind of war. Bastards and monsters, those're my kind of quarry. Not familiar enough with the Drezhari to know if they fit that bill."

"Not yet you're not," Elulim said, "but soon..."

"You think I'll change my mind?"

"That or they'll change it for you."

Hawkmoon pursed her lips. "You aren't nervous that their... what was it again, their-"

"The Drezhari Acquiestical?" Elulim guessed.

"Yes, that. You aren't nervous it'll pull ahead over your Stratocracy?"

Elulim, to Hawkmoon's relief, actually gave the question some thought. Ve pondered it and said, "Not here. Not close to home. They cannot defeat us here. We have the Divide at our backs - and an animal cornered is an animal that will fight to the bloody end. But on their ground everything changes. I don't know if the Stratocracy will seek to invade. I doubt it. The territory between, however; that is where the bulk of the fighting will be. We aren't close neighbours and there's plenty of lawless space in the way. I imagine the Drezhari will race to reinforce a blockade on us. I don't doubt we will attempt the same."

"And what about those who get caught between?"

"What about them?"

"What happens to them?"

Elulim shrugged. "I don't know. War is not a clean thing. There is no clear-cut answer for confrontations on the front. It's not my business, anyways. I'm Akildn, not some trench-trotter. I fight well beyond those battlelines."

"And everyone else around? Will you be dragging them into the fight?"

"I should probably stop talking with you about war," Elulim mused. "Or the Stratocracy won't let you leave, regardless of what your kin desire."

"Oh, don't tempt me." Hawkmoon paused. "Elulim."

"Yes?"

"If you're not happy with... with this. With your life. If you want a way out, I wouldn't blame you."

Elulim looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I... I think I need you here. I need you in a position to warn people about what's across the Divide. It's for everyone's good. Even so, if you just took a ship and set out into the deep black, I wouldn't... yeah, I wouldn't blame you. If they're really strangling you here, run the moment you see a chance. Don't let them hold you under. Drowning's the worst way to go."

"Is this coming from a place of experience?" Elulim questioned.

"It's coming from a place of sympathy," Hawkmoon told ver. "Don't exhaust it."

"Always sympathy with you," Elulim scoffed. "Why do you care?"

"Just... I don't know, who I am?"

"You're too nice a Seeker. You're supposed to be haughty."

"Don't like that stereotype," Hawkmoon muttered. "There's good Seekers out there. Plenty of decent ones too."

"Wasn't an insult."

"I know." Hawkmoon took a deep draught of her high-grade. It fizzled going down. "We've got half an orn before they get here, maybe. Don't know what to do with it; I was entertaining the idea of drifting around, seeing what fun everyone else is having. Not like there's much else I can do."

"And after that, they just bring you home?" Elulim questioned.

"I don't see them doing anything else."

"And what of... us?"

"Us?" Hawkmoon glanced at ver. "Us has been subjective from the beginning. Us was only ever going to be temporary."

"And just like that, we part? Never to speak again?" Elulim hummed. "It seems a missed opportunity."

"I can't stay, Elulim. There's no chance of that, regardless of what happens next. I'm moving on." Hawkmoon paused and vented a sigh. "But I could give you my comm codes, if that interests you. Don't know how often we'd be in position to catch a good signal, but the odds aren't good."

"Still."

"Still," Hawkmoon reluctantly concurred, "what's the harm? You got a-"

Elulim tapped the side of veir head.

"Sensorium, right." Hawkmoon tentatively reached out, picked up on the weak wireless dataport emanating from Elulim's direction and shared her codes.

"Received," Elulim said. Then, more softly, "Thank you."

Hawkmoon offered ver a wordless salute. "Keep me up to date on the Divide, would you?"

"Of course." Elulim leaned closer. "Sure you don't want me to organise a proper send-off?"

"You're literally the only Eimin-Tin I get along with."

"You just don't know anyone else."

"Exactly. No chance of changing that, what with how little time I have left."

Elulim dipped veir head. "If that is what you want."

"But... thanks," Hawkmoon said with some difficulty. "For everything. Maybe it was all earned, given how I might have saved your life out in the forest, but-"

"Humble," Elulim snorted.

Hawkmoon spared ver a fleeting smile. "Aren't I just? So... yeah. Thanks."

The server from earlier returned with a flash of something. Elulim gladly took it and tipped it back, downing almost half the drink in one go. Ve exhaled with relief. "It's good to be alive," ve said, then turned back to Hawkmoon. "You might be right."

"About?"

"Everything. Maybe I am chasing every vice. Maybe I do have a deathwish. That doesn't take away from the fact that I am glad to be in a position to feel those things."

"That's..." Hawkmoon trailed off and shook her helm. "You know what? Frag it, that could be toast worthy. So cheers." She raised her cube and clinked it against Elulim's own drink before taking another drag of high-grade.

"Cheers," Elulim slowly echoed. Ve perked up. "To surviving so far."

"To surviving so far," Hawkmoon murmured.

It was a good mantra to keep.

They drank through the evening. Hawkmoon downed five cubes in a row, all out of some desire to put the guilt and the anxiousness of the incoming formation behind her. She tried mingling, found that there was a distinct lack of other Cybertronians about and decided to stick around with Elulim - who was far from an innocent influence. Somehow they ended up on a terrace above the saloon, Elulim smoking from a pipe and Hawkmoon looking her red energon tracer over, debating whether or not to try some. Mixing an overcharge and red energon didn't strike her as the wisest nor the most responsible idea, but the alternative was to wait around and twiddle her thumbs.

"What's happening about Yrsfa and Phorus?" she asked, searching for a distraction.

Elulim pulled veir pipe away and blew a smoke ring. "What?"

"Are there upcoming funerals or-"

"They're dead, Hawkmoon. Meat and bone. The beasts of the jungle will eat them. Or maybe the trees will. They're as dead as the Drezhari we left behind; there's nothing to recover."

"No, I... okay, that's grim, but I was referring mostly to their passing. Is there any Eimin-Tin ritual to commemorate their deaths?"

"No?" Elulim gave her a quizzical look. "They're dead. Their temples stand empty. I imagine their handlers are already moving to replace them."

"Wow."

"What?"

"It just seems a little... irreverent," Hawkmoon said. "Like, you Akildn are lauded and respected, but even you just get forgotten after you die. Left behind. What's even the point?"

"To keep the Stratocracy strong. Nine-hundred and ninety-nine Akildn. That is how it must always be. It's the only right number."

"How do they make Akildn?"

"Sanctioned analysts inspect the eggs of a healthy clutch, from a strong Eimin-Tin bloodline," Elulim explained, "and they take away those they deem worthy of uplifting. Those unborn embryos are then altered, spliced with chemicals shipped in from off-world and mentally conditioned once they are appropriately developed enough to handle sim-dreams. We are weapons first and foremost. The Stratocracy ensures as much."

"They don't even give you a chance to live as children?"

"We are Eimin-Tin. I understand other species place a higher importance on the upbringing of juveniles of their own species, but not us. We are given purposes from the moment we hatch and are honed to achieve them. If an Eimin-Tin wishes to change their life, they are free to do so; our civilization is built on the premise of smooth adaptation."

"Including you?"

"We're the sole outliers."

"Seems rough." Hawkmoon took a light pull from her tracer. The world around her momentarily shimmered and slowed almost to a standstill before speeding back up. The edge of it remained, leading every sensor sharpened and enhanced.

Elulim grunted. "It is what it is."

"So you can't change?"

"Not even from before the moment we are born. We are stripped our ability to emerge as male or female or other; we are cut away from our biological relations and familial name; we are conditioned to seek out a certain nutrient for our first few years of life, a nutrient only our handlers are permitted to give us in hopes of teaching us loyalty. Of teaching us to follow orders."

"Does it work?"

Elulim shrugged. "Thema would say no, but my combat supervisors would hold a different opinion. In war I question nothing. In peace? Thema could drink poison for all I care."

Hawkmoon nodded slowly. "I was wondering that."

"What? Thema drinking poison?"

"The whole genderless thing. I thought it was a little strange that every Akildn I meet is gender neutral, but I imagined it was just like... I don't know, a little friend group thing. Like you all decided one day to be different."

Elulim snorted. "As if."

"Why do they do that?"

"To eliminate unappealing instincts. A male Eimin-Tin is driven to watch over the egg clutch of his mate, his cousins, his siblings, his neighbours. A female Eimin-Tin is driven to vie with others over resources that could be used to serve her family. A male Akildn would be a defensive beast, unadventurous, and a female Akildn would be overly aggressive, unapproachable even by their own handlers. Our opinions in the matter were deemed irrelevant to the final decision and from then on we were rendered neither."

"And that irks?"

"It frustrates me, yes," Elulim sighed, "but it's an old frustration."

"Would you change, if you could?"

"It is the lack of choice that bothers me more than anything. So... I don't know. Possibly not. I don't care for eggs or family and I doubt I ever will." Elulim took another smoke. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. I know Cybertronians are just as malleable as Eimin-Tin, if not more so. I hear all it takes to switch between mech and femme is a single line of code."

"Could be," Hawkmoon said hesitantly. "I don't... Nah. I mean, I think I've considered it in the past, just to see if I'm more comfortable as someone else, but... Look, I have my issues with myself, but that's not one of them. I think I'm happy with who I am at my core. No, not happy - satisfied. Content."

"Then I envy you," Elulim murmured. "That's one more freedom you have over me."

"At least you get to keep breathing," Hawkmoon said softly.

Elulim looked at her. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Something stupid. Ignore it." Hawkmoon breathed in the misted red energon, deeper this time. Everything sparkled. Everything ground to a halt. For the blink of an eye everything was quiet and beautiful and then time caught back up with her. "This has been... educational, I want to say."

"Then say it."

"Educational, then. The whole darn stay. I got to learn about serpents and shadows and sneaky bastards. What a detour." Hawkmoon hmphed. "I'm never going to trust a forest again."

"Have our trees rattled you so?" Elulim said with a tinge of amusement.

"Don't like it when the flora gets hungry. That's the point at which you gotta realize this world isn't meant for you."

"We handle it alright."

"Because you've climbed higher than the trees," Hawkmoon pointed out. "What would you be without these plateaus?"

"Not Akildn. And feral," Elulim mused. "I would be of the tribes below. Wouldn't that be something?"

"Haunted by shadows."

"We're all haunted by shadows, Hawkmoon. Only difference is the feral Eimin-Tin face their personal torments head on."

Hawkmoon winced. "Not a nice way to put it."

"It's the only way to put it."

"Fair. Doesn't mean I like it."

Elulim looked away, as if listening to something. Or someone. "Incoming energy signatures on the edge of the system," ve reported. "They're warping in, red hot, sun-bright. Your Seekers. Nine of them."

Hawkmoon solemnly nodded. "They're letting your Stratocracy know they're here."

"They're still some ways off," Elulim reasoned, glancing back at her.

Hawkmoon levered herself up. "Doesn't matter. I'm still one of their obedient little soldiers; should play the part, clean myself up as best I can." She filed the tracer away. "Guess this is goodbye."

"I guess it is." Elulim turned veir head away again. "Hope they don't kill you."

"So do I." Hawkmoon paused. She debated something with herself, then thought fuck it, and knelt down beside ver. "Good luck with your war."

"Don't need luck."

"All the same..." Hawkmoon leaned in quick and gave Elulim a fleeting peck on the cheek. Ve turned to her, eyes wide and head tilted as she pulled back and stood back up. "Never say never, right? Until we see each other again - hopefully. Don't let them drown you."

Elulim traced veir own cheek, surprised, and watched her retreat back into the saloon. "I won't," Hawkmoon heard ver whisper.

Hula-Fer-Teriin's spaceport was busy. Mostly with other aliens, tourists and merchants and the like, all trying to hightail it out now that the local political climate was getting heated. Of the Eimin-Tin Hawkmoon mostly saw regiments of biosuited soldiers waiting to ship out, to be moved to the new front. It wasn't like how the Last City used to wage its wars. This was the tactic of mortals. Guardians never sat in neat little brigades, hanging off every word the Vanguard spilled. That was too orderly, too... controlled. She couldn't imagine it even for her own Fireteam. They would have hated this, herself included. Her trine, though, probably would have held a different opinion. Because what were Seekers if not creatures dedicated to perfection?

An Eimin-Tin officer found her and wordlessly led her away from the spaceport's main hub, out to one of the landing fields. A couple of soldiers were on standby, wearing the armour of Elulim's tower-guards. Thema was there. He offered her a formal nod, indicated to a portable pod by his feet shaped to hold a spark. Hawkmoon's own spark hammered and raced, but she struggled to keep her inner turmoil confined, to refrain from letting it show. She took up Rampage's caged heart and filed it away into storage, glad that the EM pulses had been contained. She started pacing in hopes of letting her own dread and nervousness wear off naturally, but it only seemed to exacerbate the issue.

At last, at last - she saw them. Her optic drew upwards, drawn by the minute shifts in the night sky only a Seeker's ocular sensors could pick up on, and she beheld nine lights quickly descending. They dropped fast, ignoring the strain of re-entry, and plummeted down towards the landing port. It only took them a couple of breems to close the distance; a speed suicidal for anything but one of their kind. They stopped above, the nine of them, and three peeled away to close the remaining distance. They slowed, they transformed and they landed. Seekers. Hawkmoon's spark twinged at the sight of them; she wanted to flee and she wanted to cheer. For all they stood for, they were still a familiar sight and welcome because of it.

One more so than others.

The apparent leader stepped forward, red optics trained on her, and a frown fell over their faceplates as they beheld her altered frame.

"Hawkmoon?" the newcomer questioned. "Is that you?"

"Hey Minerva," Hawkmoon said softly.

Minerva stopped right in front of her, reached up as if to touch her faceplates then thought better of it. "You're... alive," she said. "... What happened?"

"That's a long story," Hawkmoon said with some difficulty.

Minerva looked past her, glanced around the landing pad, then back to her. "You're alone," she remarked - and it all but crushed Hawkmoon right where she stood, ground her spark into dust. "Where're the others?"

"Minerva-"

"Where's your trine?"

Hawkmoon shook her helm.

"I see," Minerva said. She looked her over. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I... I've already received repairs," Hawkmoon explained. "An Insecticon here helped me. And the Krenshans. And... and the Eimin-Tin."

Minerva's faceplates smoothed over, became dangerously calm. "What happened?"

"Minerv-"

"What happened, Hawkmoon?"

Hawkmoon hesitated. "We crossed the Brachian Divide," she said at length. "We crossed it. Only I came back. The others..." she trailed off. It was a struggle to get the words out past the lump in her throat. "They... they didn't make it."

"Not one?"

"No." Her spark ached - ached in that side where Cyberwarp and Nacelle had once been attached. Where her trine-bond, trial version that it was, had dug in. Where it now felt so cold, so empty. "I'm the only one."

Minerva stared at her. For a long time, too. She didn't say anything. Not until one of the other Seekers behind her approached - yellow-eyed and green-plated. "Minerva," he pressed.

"Four vorns," Minerva whispered. "You've been gone for four vorns, Hawkmoon. Have you been here the whole time?"

Hawkmoon vented. "No. Just a couple of decaorns."

"Decaorns. But you were gone for four-..." Minerva tensed her jaw. She glanced at the Eimin-Tin, at Thema and said, "Language files. Send them over."

Hawkmoon pinged her the Irinum datapacket. Minerva dipped her helm, then turned on her heel to face Thema, clasping her servos behind her back.

"Vos is grateful," she said.

Thema carefully looked between the two of them. He was dressed more modestly than before, but he was still some leagues more decadent than the surrounding silk-serpents. "For what?"

"For aiding one of our own."

"The Seeker has been of service to us during her stay. It was earned."

"All the same, we appreciate it." Minerva paused. "We cannot linger long. It's my understanding that the Eimin-Tin Stratocracy is beginning to take martial action against the Drezhar Acquiestical. Vos is taking a stance of neutrality; we cannot be seen to involve ourselves more than we have already."

Thema flicked his tail. "I understand. The Stratocracy sends its well wishes to the Exploratory Institution."

"And to you as well." Minerva glanced back at Hawkmoon. "Are you fueled?"

"Yes."

"Then we're leaving. Now. Come on."

Minerva transformed and flew up. The other two lingered, watching Hawkmoon, and she realized they were staying to make sure she followed. With a vented sigh she leapt into the air, transformed into her starfighter mode and shot up after her. The spaceport, Hula-Fer-Teriin, the Undergrowth surrounding it quickly began to fall away, to shrink below. Minerva set a brutal pace, one that would have punished any Seeker but those who'd already graduated as full Energon Seekers, and Hawkmoon pushed her thrusters to keep up. The burn of it, the strain - it didn't feel as sharp as it should have. She didn't know if the high-grade was to blame or her own sense of masochism. It didn't really matter.

They flew, for a time, in tense silence. It was only at the edge of Penchant's home system that Minerva allowed them to slow down and fell in beside Hawkmoon, her Cybertronian jet contrasting starkly with her foldfighter form. It didn't go unnoticed either. Minerva's first words to her were, ::You've changed.::

::So have you,:: Hawkmoon retorted automatically. She quickly followed it up with, ::You have a different trine. What happened to Thundercracker? Starscream?::

::We came to a disagreement. Parted ways,:: Minerva said in a neutral tone. ::You've lost yours?::

Hawkmoon didn't reply. She didn't trust herself not to say something stupid.

::... I'm sorry. They seemed like good mecha.::

::The best,:: Hawkmoon murmured. There was a lull in conversation. ::I wasn't hiding.::

Minerva swerved closer by a fraction. ::Then what were you doing?::

::Warning them. The Eimin-Tin. Clan Krensha. Getting them to warn everyone else along the Divide.::

::About what?::

::About...:: Hawkmoon felt another sting shoot through her spark. ::I didn't just lose them. They were murdered.::

Minerva moved even closer. Hawkmoon was beginning to get nervous that their wings could catch on each other. That they would tangle and collide. She forced herself to keep still. ::Murdered,:: Minerva repeated.

::Yes,:: Hawkmoon said, but it struck her for the umpteenth time that it was a half-lie - because Nacelle wasn't dead, was he? No, they'd done something far, far worse to him. And he'd... No, that was Oryx. It was Oryx, Hawkmoon knew. But it didn't numb the sheer hurt - because he'd killed her.

Oh Cyberwarp...

::There's an alien horde across the Divide,:: Hawkmoon said. ::They're killing everything and they aren't stopping. I think they'll hop over to this side when they've finished up. They're worse than anything you've ever known, I can promise you that.::

::And this is why you've been gone for four vorns?::

::I lost those vorns because I spent most of it in stasis-lock,:: Hawkmoon snapped, all too quickly reaching the end of her tether. ::I was all but dead in the water. I didn't have much of a choice in the matter.::

::You're still alive,:: Minerva pointed out. ::That must have taken some miracle.::

::Thunderhowl. The Krenshans. They came for us at Vos' behest. They found me. Found... found Cyberwarp's body. The rest... they're gone. They aren't coming back.::

Minerva stayed quiet. ::Where is she now?:: she softly asked.

Hawkmoon vented deeply. ::There was another species who offered us sanctuary, before... before it all went to the Pit. She liked them. I liked them. I... dealt with her remains according to their funerary rites. I wasn't functional enough to perform our own.::

::I see.:: Minerva at last moved away, giving her enough space to mentally breathe. ::Hawkmoon?::

::Yeah?::

::I've heard tell that you joined with the Krenshans, but I didn't believe it until I saw you.::

::I'm not with them,:: Hawkmoon reported. ::Not anymore. They offered to help me, but it wasn't the life I wanted.::

::They told us you killed a dragon.::

::I... yes. I did.::

::Long story,:: Minerva repeated with a muted scoff. ::What the frag happened with you?::

::I got lost.::

::So I gather.:: Minerva paused. ::We're bringing you home.::

Home, Hawkmoon thought. Home was green and blue and littered with ruin. Home was red-hued and arid to the core. Home rained gasoline and left her feeling bereft of purpose. ::What's it like?:: Hawkmoon asked. ::Home, that is?::

::It's...:: Minerva hesitated. ::Cybertron's changed, Hawkmoon. Vos has changed.::

::How so?::

::... You'll see when we get there.:: Minerva flew ahead. ::We're flying straight there, just a single fuel-stop - and, ah, maybe something else. We have business to settle in Freeport Azal.::

Freeport Azal. Where they'd first picked up on the rumour about energon across the Divide. The first push towards disaster. Yes, Hawkmoon darkly thought, we do.

AN: Huge thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!