Chapter 65

"The Angel Part I"

Hawkmoon looked at the string, stupefied. "What the fuck."

"Hawkmoon-"

"Augur, what the fuck is this?"

"A gift."

"What in the ever-loving fuck do you mean a gift?!"

Augur limped away. "Exactly that. You've garnered Dark attentions. This is your reward."

Hawkmoon turned. "You met her?"

"The Varanid?" Augur laughed bitterly. "What did you expect? You enticed her favour."

"Like fuck I did. You supported me every step of the way, pushed me to it. You manipulated me. This was what you wanted!" Hawkmoon scowled. "Augur, what did you tell her?"

"I said nothing." Augur, with difficulty, laid down. His flank was bloodied. He set towards licking it clean. "She made her case."

"Which is?"

"You must kill Greshar. You."

"Why me?"

"Why is it you suddenly take umbrage with this? You put yourself at the forefront, always. That is the choice you made"

"Augur, there's a level of difference between wanting a fucker dead and being singled out by… whatever the fucking powers that be are."

"I delivered you a weapon." Augur pointedly avoided looking at her. "Use it or leave it; I've done all I can."

Hawkmoon tilted her helm, her ridges furrowed. "She hurt you."

He said nothing.

"Augur."

"She... has not forgotten me," he muttered. "But she has satisfied her grievances. Be glad I am still here to guide you. Few survive her rancour."

Guide me? Hawkmoon flicked her wings angrily. "I'm not touching that."

Augur shot her a look. "Do as you will."

She walked to her berth, more than prepared to expunge even the thought of the string behind-

Take it.

Hawkmoon gave a start. Augur looked up. "She's always been insistent," he grumbled. "Always. Ever since she was a kit."

Take it. Now.

The words imprinted on her HUD, transmitted from nowhere in particular. Hawkmoon combed her processor's firewalls, forced her internal systems to check up on her optical connections, but everything seemed in order.

Take it up, Seeker.

Shivering, Hawkmoon stood with combat protocols engaged. She glared at the far wall. "Fuck off."

Take it up. Or you will die.

A shiver ran through her frame. "You sound just like dear old dad."

All at once her mind filled with fire. Hawkmoon collapsed with a scream. Take. It.

"As I said," Augur huffed, "few survive her rancour. Your pride certainly won't."

The heat building up in her energon lines abated without warning. Venting quickly, Hawkmoon levered herself up onto her servos and knees, denta grinding hard enough to kick up sparks. "Get fucked."

The flames returned with a vengeance, spiking through her body. Her struts creaked, her lines boiled, her plating crumpled like tinfoil, visuals swam - but not one damage report crossed her HUD. She found her body moving of its own volition, until her pain grid switched off and she was left standing before the desk. Hawkmoon swayed, directionless. The sudden gulf of pain left her feeling... cold. Grasping for an iota of control.

Take. It. Up.

She wanted to shout again, to roar, to transform and burn it to cinders but a crown of thorns wrapped around her T-cog. Hawkmoon reached out against her own will... and she took up the length of string. It moved of its own volition, slithering between her digits like a living serpent.

And everything... changed.

The Revenant was torn away. Darkness filled every inch of space. The yawning rupture in realspace closed, sealing her in the other-realm. Within the Ley-Lines.

"There," Invicta whispered. She stood before her, turned away to face the shadowed imitation of Cybertron's sun. "Was that so difficult?"

Control of her limbs returned to her. Hawkmoon tried to flick the string away but it held tight. All attempts to pull, loosen, and tear it off made no difference. It coiled tighter, painfully so. The feeling of Darkness burrowed deep into her servo. She gasped. "You changed your tune real quick."

"You named me almost-a-monster." Invicta waved a hand. Her shadowed robes became a suit of glittering armour. The beaded amulet she clutched shifted into a tall glaive dripping with alien ichor. Hawkmoon realised there were corpses around them. Drezhari drones, squids and coppermen both. "It was more apt than you could have realized."

"What do you want?!" Hawkmoon shouted. She ripped at the string with all her strength. "Let me go you fucking creature!"

"Be still."

Her claws fell lax. Hawkmoon's voice died in her throat. Her servos fell to her sides. Bitch, she thought, willing Invicta to hear.

She turned. Armour shifted back to robes. Helm melted to mask. Polearm to amulet. "This will take as long as you resist. You may speak."

"FUCK YOU!" Hawkmoon struggled against the invisible grip holding her in place. "What the fuck do you want?!"

"To teach you." Invicta knelt. She still towered over her. "The Angel is far from defenseless. If you mean to kill him-"

"Why are you doing this?" Hawkmoon barked. "Why me?!"

"Because," Invicta said softly, "you are uniquely suited to the task. You - and no other. The wandering ideal has made its mark on you, wormed its way into your soul, but you stand here empty. A vessel waiting to be filled."

She was talking about the Traveler. About her Light. Hawkmoon vented hard. "I still have it-"

"Muted, dormant, stripped of its bite. The toll of your sacrifice was to be neutered of all prior ability. You've done well to redefine yourself with the dragon's wish, but you need... honing. I shall be your whetstone."

"Let. Me. Go."

"No. Not until you are ready for him." Invicta raised her empty hand, intertwined with an identical length of red wire. Hawkmoon's arm moved to mirror it. A cold feeling settled in her struts. "You once gave shape to formless potential. That power is beyond me. Instead I grant you static purpose. Open yourself."

Hawkmoon's engines growled. "Fuck. Off."

"Open."

Her chestplates groaned and folded open, revealing her spark chamber. It stung where the acrid air of other-space breathed down on it. Hawkmoon turned desperate; her other servo clawed at the ground. Something deep, some primal instinct told her she needed to get away, get the fuck out but the rest of her body refused to obey.

"You'll fly soon," Invicta assured her. It gave her no relief. "This will take but a moment."

"Why?" Hawkmoon grated out.

"My father has his razor-bird flocks. I will have the Remnant - and you to lead them." Something formed in Invicta's hand. A similar object crystallized in Hawkmoon's own. A stake or a knife or a nail, constructed from deep bluish diamond and veined in red. Each pane at its mutli-faceted base was hexagonal, but the three sides of the blade were triangles. "Closer."

The pointed inched towards her spark. Invicta braced it over her own heart. "No," Hawkmoon gasped. Her spark thrummed wildly. "Leave me alone, let go, let me fucking go-"

"There is a shape for you," Invicta whispered. "It is [FREQUENCY]."

The blade plunged. Her life, her very essence spilled out, her very Light, Gecko's Light, stop it no, GeckogeckogeckonostopnoNO

Her spark became a hungry vacuum. The need for weight, for definition grew so great she felt it as a genuine hunger, a yearning in the pit of her soul. It was the gradient of will and dream around them swept in, funneled through the blade-

-and Hawkmoon staggered back from the desk, phantom pain radiating outwards from her spark. A servo caught her elbow to steady her. Someone's field brushed her own.

"Hey! Easy, easy there!"

They lowered her to the floor. Hawkmoon onlined her optics to find Deadlook worriedly peering down at her. "Emir- Hawkmoon. What's wrong?"

Hawkmoon looked around. Augur was gone. Of Invicta there was no sign. "I don't... know." She blinked, reserving hope - until a painful throb from her servo dragged her optics down to the string still wrapped around the base of her digits. With a shudder she braced it against her chest and curled into herself.

Gecko…

"Hawkmoon?"

She all but lunged to her feet, fury ripping through her grief renewed. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she snapped, bracing against the edge of her berth, searching for something to ground her. To take her away. For someone to tell it was alright. That she was going to be okay. Vain hope, that. "What is it?"

Deadlock stared at her. "It's almost time for launch," he said. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, 'Lock, really. Just... just tired," she lied. "It's been a long decaorn."

He looked unconvinced but didn't press the issue. "Contagion's report came in. The old bots are clean so we're good to go. Tarn says that a straight warp to the Mazu system will take another orn. We thought you might want to make an occasion of the launch but if you need to recharge..."

"I've rested enough." She quashed the queasy feeling of Darkness away. "Let's get going."

Tarn and Duststorm were waiting for them on the bridge. A couple of other Glitched were hanging about, but-

"You," Hawkmoon said before anyone else could speak, looking at a nearby Vehicon. The drone saluted her. "Wire me up to the intercom."

The Vehicon rushed to the overcrowded console, activated the ship's speakers, and she connected with them via her comms systems. "Intercom is active, Emirate."

Ignoring all the optics on her, Hawkmoon strode forth and braced against the railing of the command deck, staring out across the rest of the bridge and the open vacuum beyond. On a nearby console she saw other ships blinking out of sensor range. It was time.

"Crew of the Revenant," Hawkmoon said, grimacing at the stiffness of her own words. "We're about to enter warp to the Mazu system. We're under orders not to engage the enemy yet, so I don't expect any of us will see any action anytime soon, but make no mistake that we're about to enter a warzone. It'll be kill-or-be-killed. Most of you know what that's like. Wouldn't have taken you on-board otherwise. Even so, there hasn't been a conflict like this. We're sliding into the Pit itself - so if you want out, I suggest you hightail it to the airlocks now."

A couple of mecha chuckled. Hawkmoon heard the clanking of pedes behind her as others arrived. She took that as a sign to continue.

"Don't expect to be given quarter. The Drezhari aren't interested in prisoners. All they want are the mechanisms in your frames, nothing more. What's more, they likely know what we're aiming to do: to kill the Angel Himself. We're almost certainly a priority target - so, again, if that frightens you then you need to get the hell off my ship."

No one was laughing anymore.

"We're going to kill him," Hawkmoon darkly promised. "We are going to kill Greshar and shatter any Drezhari who thinks they can slaughter our people with impunity. Beginning now, that is our one and only function. What I want now from each of you is to approach every step of this war with the consideration of how your choices and actions get us closer to that goal. Nothing else matters."

Her words were met with silence. She continued, "I don't exaggerate when I say this might be the most important war Cybertron has ever fought. What we do now will effect dozens if not hundreds of worlds. If you die, you die trying to bring down a monster. If you live - good fragging job. But if you kill, then you kill for me and you kill for Cybertron. I hope you remember that."

Hawkmoon paused. "Now let's go get this bastard."

EM fields flared around her - with excitement, anxiousness, jubilation. Hawkmoon disconnected from the intercom and Tarn stepped over. "Well said," he complimented.

Hawkmoon hardly glanced at him. "Crew."

A score of Vehicons turned to her.

"You have the coordinates of the rally point. Bring us through."

"Of course, Emirate," the drones said in unison. Soon enough the stars themselves began to shift, lengthen, stretch out into a kaleidoscope of colours beyond the viewport. The mecha watching either began to depart or talked amongst themselves, the hubbub of conversation rising up all around them.

"You ever do this before?" Hawkmoon asked.

"Hm?"

"Warp into a hostile system."

"Not... exactly," Tarn hesitated. "But there's a first for everything. I'll be sure to savour the experience."

"Shouldn't be rough, Prince willing."

"Do you envy them? Your city-kin?"

"You mean charging nose-first into a Drezhari-held system?" Hawkmoon shrugged. "I've flown against Hive dreadfleets. Kept my cool well enough, but I can't say it was the highlight of my life. Nah, I'm happy enough to be ordered out of that fight."

"But if there weren't orders prohibiting your involvement...?"

"Then we'd be halfway to the Drezhari homeworld by now."

Tarn chuckled. "I thought so." He paused. "Contagion reports-"

"That our newest recruits are clean, yeah, 'Lock told me." Hawkmoon motioned with her helm to her newest shadow. Deadlock shifted at the mention of his designation but held his silence. "'Pparently they're old guard."

"Empire-era frames," Tarn confirmed. "Puts the stakes into perspective, doesn't it? That even they're concerned."

"Where are they now?"

"Soundwave is interviewing them on your behalf. He's mightily loyal."

Hawkmoon vented. "We've common cause."

"Your cause."

"Everyone's cause."

Tarn smiled and lowered his voice. "If it were anyone else," he whispered, "neither I nor my team would be here. The price is good-"

"What am I paying you again?"

"Oh, just whatever we decide."

Hawkmoon groaned. "I'm gonna bankrupt the Prime's entire estate."

"As I said, the price might be good, but all the shanix in the world aren't worth the pain of politics."

"You do realize I'm a politician, right?" Hawkmoon deadpanned.

"But you make it interesting." Tarn leaned over the railing. "You're honest and you mean well - and that's as much as I care to know."

"Why're you buttering me up?"

Tarn frowned. "... Buttering...?"

"Alien phrase." Hawkmoon gave him a sidelong look. "What's up?"

"...It's the Iaconian." Tarn leaned in closer. His field was locked up tight but she could feel flickers of something like uncertainty. "You made me your security chief, so I'm going to tell you now that I don't like him."

"Orion's harmless," Hawkmoon said flippantly.

"He works for the Senate-"

"For Alpha Trion."

Tarn ruminated on that. "I still don't like it. Alpha Trion's not in favour of the war."

"Doubt Orion is either, but that's not why he's here."

"Then-"

"Megatronus." Hawkmoon said, stifling a huff. "He's a big fan."

Tarn vented. "This is no place for conventions."

"Soundwave brought him on board. Without my oversight."

"... Ah."

"Look, he might have some worth, but..." Hawkmoon straightened. "If you wanna vet him, go ahead. Just don't do anything rash."

"I'd never." Tarn nodded appreciatively. "If needs must we can transfer him over to one of the Kalisian ships."

"Will there be trouble on account of his city-state?"

"I can't promise there won't be. Few here are fond of Iacon-"

"Meaning fragging no one."

"Indeed, but the Kaonians..."

"He grabbed a cabin, right?"

"Two floors under your own, officer deck."

"Is he still there?"

"Uh, no." Deadlock piped up. He shifted uneasily as they both turned to look at him. "He's in the medbay."

"Is he hurt?" Hawkmoon asked, concerned. Has someone already gotten to him?

"I think he went to speak with Megatronus," Deadlock explained haltingly. "I didn't think anything of it."

Hawkmoon, feeling her spark race, beamed Soundwave on a private channel. :Is Orion with you?:

The response was immediate. :Affirmative.:

That settled her nerves. :Anyone hurt?:

:Negative.: Soundwave reported. :Current activity: discussing mission objective.:

:Who's there?:

:Personnel present: Megatronus, Orion Pax, Cyclonus, Nightbird, Blackout, Contagion.:

:And they're all playing nice?:

:Affirmative.:

:Good.: Hawkmoon vented a sigh. "They're doing fine."

"I'm sorry-" Deadlock began, but she cut him off.

"Never asked you to watch him, not your job."

"Still, should've been proactive."

"It's fine, 'Lock, all's well that ends well. Fault's mine, should've explained things. To both of you."

Tarn regarded her bemusedly. "I would think a stern discussion with Soundwave is to be had."

"Yeah," Hawkmoon murmured distractedly, turning back to the growing rainbow of the warp tunnel.

"But?"

But she needed to decompress bad, because whatever Invicta had done left her energon lines racing, her frame locked up, and her thoughts covered in star-dappled cobwebs. "I'll leave him with Orion for another joor. Can you line someone else up to take over?"

"I'm sure I can."

"Someone who won't turn at the mention of Iacon?"

"Skyburst and Stormclash. They're Camien, they won't have reason to begrudge him."

"That works." She pushed away from the bridge's railing. "I'm going to wander. Can you hold things down here?"

Tarn looked around. "Not much to hold. My people know to behave on the job."

"Still."

"As you decree, it shall be so." He bowed with a flourish. Hawkmoon smiled tightly before leaving the bridge entirely. Deadlock, with that loyalty streak she was fast growing to take comfort in, marched after her until she motioned for him to stay.

"Just need to clear my processor," she said.

Deadlock looked at her with a frown. "If you need to talk-"

"I don't," she said - a mite too quickly. "Just... let me be. It's nothing big; I just need to... to work maintenance on my wings."

By expression alone he didn't believe her. "To preen? Isn't that a thing Seekers do communally?"

"Need a trine for that?"

Deadlock's optics turned elsewhere. "I... that was my bad."

Hawkmoon waved him off. "I'll be back soon." She moved on, deeper into the Revenant. It was a large ship all considered. Not the largest, but even considering Cybertronian size it was larger relative to her than anything she'd ever commanded before. Large enough that, if one were bereft of a Seeker's navigational module or an ingrained memory of the ship's schematics, one could get lost in it. That's what she tried to do - despite what she was, what she knew, Hawkmoon tried to lose herself in the deeper decks and winding corridors of the place.

Until the Dark caught up and the string tightened painfully around the base of her digits. Her spark shuddered.

Come.

She staggered and braced against a wall. Hawkmoon thought in curses - against Invicta, against Augur, against Greshar and His twisted ilk, against Kharad-Tan for being a coward and damned Oryx for all the harm He did her. She decried in silent loathing the names Xol and Riven, Nightbeat and Clovis. Monsters. Cretins. Bastards.

Come to me.

And she grieved. For Gecko, already lost over and over and over again. For Cyberwarp and Nacelle. For her fireteam. For herself, broken down to this - a Dark-cloaked beast's plaything.

"I'm not yours," she growled past clenched denta. The defiance burned from within, resounding with a hiss from overtaxed vents. "I'm not yours."

The string tightened again. Hawkmoon closed her optics, dragged her claws along the wall in an effort to relieve the pain, and- touched something that wasn't metal at all. Her vision lit up; she saw... webbing. Pale, adhesive properties, synthetic in form. Looking around it was everywhere - along the walls, the corners of the room, holding a nearby door ajar.

Rising on stiff pedes she set out to investigate. Through the door, into another corridor where panelling gave way to bare pipes and cables, where the web encircled everything but the floor itself. Idly, Hawkmoon tapped the edge of a cobweb. She wasn't left long in waiting.

The first thing she saw were the legs. It brought to mind a trapdoor spider creeping out of its burrow. The optics followed them, all eight, each of them blinking independently of one another. Airachnid. A small smile touched the Insecticon's faceplates, sly if uncertain. The string-

The string eased. Her pain receptors cooled, leaving Hawkmoon to bask in numbing relief. If it showed then Airachnid gave no indication.

"Emirate," she greeted, bowing low. Her true legs were gone, having combined to form a spider-like abdomen, and she balanced on her long kibble-limbs. "Welcome to engineering."

Hawkmoon inclined her helm. "Is this where you bunk? What is this place?"

"Close to the core, I imagine," Airachnid said, shrugging. "I like the noise it makes."

"Very out of the way."

"I know." She paused. "That was a... an invigorating speech."

"You don't sound sure."

Airachnid shrugged. "We don't often practice oration on Eukaris so I've few examples to compare. Many of the clans ascribe to an attitude of 'the less said the better.'"

"Do you?"

"If I did, I doubt I'd be here." Her many optics twinkled. "You're far from the bridge, madame."

"Thought I'd wander." Hawkmoon looked around. "Made yourself at home, didn't you?"

"So far as I can tell this is a secondary access tunnel. Worry not, I haven't obstructed anything. The way is still clear in case of an emergency. I simply made it comfortable." Airachnid ran a hand down one of the exposed pipes. "Here the shell is peeled back. It reminds me of geothermal vents. We used to nest in caves on Eukaris, my clan and I. All the better to dig for energon, but not so distant that the other clans couldn't reach us."

"Do you miss it?"

Airachnid frowned. Her optical ridges furrowed over her primary optics. "Not at all. Many claim we're free but our customs can be as binding as your laws. I prefer to work beyond the purview of short-sighted despots, be they elders or senators."

"What's Eukaris like?" Hawkmoon inquired. It was only polite. She knew Ike would have killed to know how autonomous mechanical lifeforms evolved into different strains. Gecko too. Gecko…

Airachnid smiled again. "Green and beautiful. The colony's founders, in a fit of rare foresight, refrained from cyberforming it. This was the only reason my ancestors survived the Plague."

Hawkmoon nodded.

"What about Vos?"

"It's... a place."

Airachnid hummed. "I hear it's pretty. I've never been there myself - I doubt I'd be welcome." She shifted, turning-

And that was when Hawkmoon saw the arm. The body. Strung up on the wall, almost entirely cocooned. She stiffened. Airachnid was a sharp study - she noticed, realised what Hawkmoon was staring at and she laughed.

"It's a Vehicon," she said, not at all embarrassed or remorseful. "Look." And she scuttled up the wall, moved her legs and hands around the dead frame and ferried it down to the floor. One arm was hanging loose from the wrapping. The helm was open - visor cracked, plating cut away, the processor a mess of rearranged circuity and strange silver latticework.

Hawkmoon forced her combat protocols to deactivate. It wasn't a person. It wasn't. Just a drone, she told herself. "What... are you doing with it?"

Airachnid glanced at her. "Contagion let me have it," she said quickly, entirely avoiding the question. "It's an old service-caste. He told me it was developing information creep."

Information creep. The term wasn't unfamiliar. Information overload was a common affliction for City Frames - they usually ended up reset or outright dismantled if their processors couldn't handle it. That put her at ease to a degree; it wasn't a person, she reminded herself. It had the build of one but it wasn't. Just like running into a young Warlock dissecting service droid in a dark corner. Grim, sure, and plenty weird, but oddly adorable - and always inevitable. They never could help themselves.

She just really wished the Vehicons looked less Cybertronian.

"Does he donate a lot of drones?" Hawkmoon asked quietly.

Airachnid hesitated. "When they're available," she said.

Hawkmoon nodded slowly. "...Okay," she said, as discomforted as if she'd found a child pulling the wings off a fly. "Just... don't try it with active crew. I need them."

"Of course not," Airachnid purred, bowing her helm.

"So... are you going to tell me what you've actually been doing?"

"Researching." She tilted her helm. "Would you like to see?"

Not really, but she'd never said as much to those creepy little Warlocks. Their looks of dejection always broke her heart - and accepting had the added benefit of annoying Ikharos or making Jaxson queasy. "Is it dangerous?"

Airachnid had the decency to pause and think it over. "It isn't strictly safe, but... no?"

"Uhuh. So what is it?"

Airachnid leaned down and turned the Vehicon's exposed processor to her. One of her digits transformed into a long scalpel which she ran under the Vehicon's chin and pressed into its neck. The latticework over its processor lit up. "Simulation. By capturing the essence of a machine we can describe how it has acted, acts, and how it will act. The Fatespinners of Eukaris employed cursory methods to divine the futures of other clans' hunters as a service. It's customary and earns us a deep respect, but so deeply wrapped up in spiritual dogma. I prefer a more practical approach."

"And... the Vehicon is still alive?"

"I suspended its neural network," Airachnid said, flashing her fangs with a grin. This close Hawkmoon could make out the tiny dark grooves in her denta - pathways for injecting cybervenom. "There wasn't much left to work with."

"So what have you found?"

"Orders, old and new. Core programming - to obey. This one transports energon tanks from storage to the core. It was decommissioned when it dropped an entire stack of ship-grade cubes."

Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge.

"It rarely did much else," Airachnid reported. "But it was instructed to obey both its creator and commander. Shockwave is the designated creator. You are its commander. It will do whatever you desire."

"Not much of a future," Hawkmoon said.

Airachnid's smile fell. "There's no life in it. No spark, deviation, nothing."

"And you'd prefer if it was alive?"

"Oh yes. Living beings always produce much more fascinating data."

"You've done this on live subjects?"

"Indeed, on symbiotes and..." Airachnid looked at her and hesitated. "On mecha where the opportunity allows."

Hawkmoon remained still. "Did they survive?"

"Oh yes. What use would divination be if the patient offlined?"

"Were they willing?"

Airachnid's primary optics narrowed. "Of course. They wanted to know their futures."

"...But they didn't know the methods you employed, did they?"

"Does it matter?"

"You've heard of a cortical patch?"

"An incredible feat of engineering-"

"Not to the victim."

Airachnid pouted. "There's no harm in it."

"Unless it's unwilling. It leaves its mark, spider. The kind you can't just shake off." Hawkmoon crossed her arms. "I don't want you performing on mecha under my command."

"I'm not here for mecha."

"So-"

"I want a Drezhari unit," Airachnid said. She removed her digit from the Vehicon and dropped it to the floor. "I want to work on an alien."

Hawkmoon frowned.

"For your benefit, madame-"

"Don't... call me that."

Airachnid bowed her head. "Hawkmoon."

She vented. "Killing is one thing, but I don't abide torture."

"My methods are painless. Of course I'll need schematics on Drezhari bio-mechanisms to even begin the procedure, but... it won't be without its uses."

"Oh?"

"If we mean to find the Angel, we can use its people to do so. I only need one with the appropriate authorisations."

Hawkmoon hesitated. What she hated most about it was that it wasn't a bad idea. If anything, it was just what they needed. Her old plan had been to either draw Greshar out onto the field (dangerous) or turn the Drezhari homeworld upside down looking for him (worse). The only issue she had with it was a moral one

She wasn't new to torture. Lennox-2 had worked Hive over until they spilled their secrets - but that was Hive. Cruelty incarnate, who deserved nothing less. But Fallen? Cabal? It always left her feeling dirty. Vex couldn't feel pain anyways and Taken always disregarded it. Scorn, what few interactions she had with them, left her with the impression they all but enjoyed it, regardless of whether they were the ones to inflict or receive. But even that was in regards to the body. The mind was something else entirely. It was safe, sacred, the last place of sanctuary for the soul. Nightbeat's treatment of her hadn't helped matters. She wouldn't have wished it on her worst enemy. To lose one's identity, to suffer another's fingers ripping through their memories, their personality, their very being... it left her angry. Left her disgusted.

Left her feeling like she needed to clutch her spark lest someone open it up again.

"Only as much as is necessary," Hawkmoon said at length. "We do what we have to and we move on. No more, no less."

Airachnid bowed graciously. "Thank you, Emirate-"

"Get up."

She straightened, smile fading. "Have I displeased you?"

"I... don't like this. I don't. I want to make that clear."

"Then you need only say the word." With a swing of her claws Airachnid ripped the Vehicon's neck-couplings away. It shuddered and died.

Hawkmoon grimaced. She buried the shock with shame. It wasn't a person. It wasn't. "That's wasteful."

"Its function was complete," Airachnid protested. "It had nothing left to offer."

"...Nevermind." She shook her helm. "I'll-" Hawkmoon made to leave, then stopped.

"Yes?" Airachnid queried.

...It was a stupid idea. She didn't like it. Too risky to ask. Still - she could imagine Augur egging her on. How to frame it differently... "You're a mnemosurgeon, right?"

"I am." Airachnid straightened, legs forming beneath her. Without her kibble-legs she was barely up to Hawkmoon's shoulders and then only if she stretched on the tips of her pedes.

Hawkmoon pursed her lips. "Can you explain to me how... how an alien might commandeer a Cybertronian frame?"

"Such as the Drezhari?"

"Broadly speaking, but yeah."

Airachnid considered it. "By occupying the spark."

"The spark?"

"Oh yes. The spark is a vessel. What it carries is life in its basest, purest form - but it is just as equally suited to storing other energies, though there is only so much room."

"So if an alien finds access to a living spark-"

"They must first empty it of all prior occupants," Airachnid confirmed, "though it takes immense effort. A sparkchamber is formed by the spark, for the spark. To do so, the alien must first extinguish the spark within. Our systems are hostile to such intrusions. How the Drezhari managed is quite beyond me, but they do so and they do it well. I saw the Angel in the senator you fought. It assumed command far quicker than the science involved should ever allow."

"There was another species," Hawkmoon said, though it wasn't where her thoughts lay. "I want to say liquid-based. I don't know if they were biological, but they could enter a frame and pilot it from there. I encountered them near the Divide."

Airachnid's faceplates grew quite serious. "Really?"

"They puppeteered a couple of rusted scout frames and infected a number of Insecticons. We escaped - beastformers, Insecticons and myself - and I think Clan Krensha ordered for the world to be bombarded from orbit. They were planet-locked; we would've been their only way off that rock."

"But they had the know-how to disable us?"

"And kill us. They were adamant on that."

"Well. I've never heard of the like but that... that does sound interesting."

"Interesting," Hawkmoon said drily, "is not how I'd describe it."

Airachnid opened her mouth but no reply came.

"Just out of curiosity, if an entity set about draining the life from a spark, would there be anything left of the person it used to contain?"

"Doubtful."

"What if it was a half-job? What if some spark-energy remained?"

Airachnid frowned. "I… don't know. A spark can only hold so much but it must hold a charge, otherwise the chamber degrades. Hence why Afflicted are only ever produced from living subjects. The spark in question would undergo core repair protocols and format more spark energy. I understand there's a similar organic process called… mitosis? I believe that's it."

"Here I thought energy can't be made, only converted from one form to another."

"Save for spark energy."

"How?"

"It's the will of Primus," Airachnid said helplessly. "Who can say? It just is. Why the curiosity?"

"Just musings regarding the Afflicted," Hawkmoon lied. She strained to keep her faceplates and EM field under control. "I'll leave you to your... research."

She left quickly, though she didn't make it far before the string squeezed. It pressed on her digits until she bit down on a scream - but she didn't stop. Didn't falter. Couldn't.

Had to be alone. Couldn't let anyone see her for what she was. Not again. Not so soon.

She made her way to the medbay only when the pain let up. That, she supposed, was Invicta's begrudging permission to go play with the others. Contagion was there, of course, along with Cyclonus. Megatronus, Soundwave and Orion Pax still talking outside, with the Camien twins nearby, but the others, Nightbird and Blackout, must have left earlier. Megatronus saw her coming and dipped his helm in greeting before replying to something Orion said. Hawkmoon watched a moment, relieved to see the gladiator relaxed, and slipped inside.

Cyclonus was sat nearby sharpening a sword, while Contagion was studiously ignoring him and stocking a cabinet with various repair tools. Hawkmoon rapped her knuckles against the doorframe, waving when their optics snapped onto her.

"Hey," she said.

"Emirate," Cyclonus said, polite if stiff. His gaunt faceplates tensed and his optics narrowed.

Contagion vented a growl. "Get him out."

Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "Is something the matter?"

"He's distracting me."

Cyclonus glanced at Contagion disinterestedly before looking down to his sword again. The blade was long, silver, ridged along the back like many Cybertronian weapons, and rather thin. Beyond the lack of ornamentation it resembled her own Nullblade.

"Alright." Hawkmoon, keeping by the door in case Cyclonus turned out to be less than civil, nodded to him. "Sheath that and get lost. This is Contagion's command."

"Hmph." Cyclonus shrugged, sheathed it over his back and stood, turning to stare at her. "I'd like a word."

"So would I."

"Here is quiet enough."

"Oh for..." Contagion grumbled. "Would you get out?! Ma'am, please-"

Hawkmoon motioned sharply, cutting him off. She lazily turned her gaze Cyclonus' way. "That's my CMO. Why are you bothering him?"

Cyclonus' plating shifted, segments moving before settling in new places. "I was waiting for you."

"Could've told someone. Fine." Hawkmoon rolled her optics and stepped outside. "Soundwave?"

Soundwave quickly bowed his helm and disengaged from the conversation, gliding over to her side. "Soundwave: awaiting instruction."

"We need to talk," she said. :And make sure someone's watching Nightbird.:

Soundwave blankly looked at her. :Blackout: already assigned. Megatronus: insisted.:

Hawkmoon caught Megatronus looking their way and nodded. "Thanks."

He said nothing but from his expression she knew he understood.

Tarn was already there ahead of them, Deadlock waiting outside. Hawkmoon filed past both of them, all but collapsed into the chair behind the desk and motioned for the rest to do the same. Deadlock and Soundwave refrained, but seeing Tarn do so, Cyclonus cautiously followed suit.

"So," Hawkmoon said. "What's your story?"

Cyclonus looked at her, bored. "No story."

"None?"

"We heard the call. We answered. To you."

"It's one thing to volunteer, another to attach yourself to a mission like this."

"We heard... things."

"Things?"

"Regarding Kaon," Cyclonus explained.

Hawkmoon's wings twitched. "Yeah?"

"And we decided you were our best course."

"Course for what?" Tarn inquired.

Cyclonus hardly looked at him. "Reaching the Hellsong."

Hawkmoon cocked her helm. "Not the Angel?"

"Both."

"Why the Hellsong?"

Cyclonus paused. "We suspect a Quintesson connection."

Both Tarn and Soundwave leaned forward, their interest piqued, but Deadlock, like herself, only looked confused. "Quintesson," Hawkmoon echoed. "That's... news."

Cyclonus nodded wordlessly.

"You know this how?"

"By interrogating one of their scouts."

"Drezhari? Or-"

"The difference hardly matters."

"But there is a difference?"

Cyclonus shrugged. "Enough to note the other influences. Either they co-opted the early Drezhari from their creators or orchestrated their forging themselves. Either way, they're involved."

Were they? Hawkmoon had her doubts - but she wasn't familiar with Quintessons. Were they partial to the Dark? Was the Dark partial to them?

"You don't believe me."

"It's... far-fetched," Hawkmoon said at length. "But my only priority is to kill, not study. Connection or not, what happens next doesn't change a bit."

"I suppose that's all that matters." Cyclonus watched her warily. "You do intend to kill the Hellsong?"

"The Angel first but - yeah. If we can manage it."

"Very well."

"You'll cooperate?"

"Of course. Our interests align. For the duration of this mission, Nightbird and I will follow your orders."

Hawkmoon looked Tarn's way. After a moment spent studying Cyclonus, he nodded to her. "Good. Is that all?"

"We know what we each want," Cyclonus said. "That's all there needs to be."

"Cool. You can go."

Cyclonus graciously bowed his helm and left. Deadlock stared after him. When the door closed he turned to her and said, quite simply, "Fragging terrifying."

Tarn chuckled. Soundwave hummed and took Cyclonus' place. He looked at Hawkmoon - and she looked back just as blankly.

"Well?" she said.

Soundwave, to his credit, shifted forward with his servos held together. She had the inkling it was meant as a gesture of humility, but it didn't fit him. "Soundwave: offers apology. Error: did not inform Hawkmoon. Error: did not seek permission."

Tarn looked at her expectantly. She felt a flare of anger - though at which of them, she wasn't sure. "Contrail used you to bug my comms," Hawkmoon said quietly. "I forgave that because it came on his orders. You overrode him in informing me about Clench, but I won't act like I regret what we did. Orion, though, is too much."

"Soundwave: understands-"

"Maybe, but I sure as the Pit don't." Hawkmoon scowled. "Look, 'Wave. I won't pretend to know you as well as I'd like to, but I thought I knew you were on my side at least."

"Soundwave: swore for Hawkmoon."

"No. You chose and that was it. There wasn't any oath involved. It's clear as day you're using me - and that's fine, so long as we have the same goals."

Soundwave froze. "Hawkmoon: does not understand."

"I think, though, I'm starting to see the bigger picture. I'm your excuse. You want change - you admitted that, don't pretend you didn't - to Cybertron as a whole. Megatronus is innocent in all this. He's here because I need help and he came willing, but Orion isn't a fighter. You didn't bring him for the Drezhari. You brought him because of your own damn ambitions."

For a time Soundwave said nothing. In the end he looked up at her, facescreen still black, and whispered, "Soundwave: presumed Hawkmoon would be amiable."

"That's not the point," Tarn cut in. He stood and clasped his servos behind his back. "You went above the chain of command. This mission won't last if each member is chasing their own ambition."

Though Airachnid's presence begged otherwise, Hawkmoon refrained from interrupting.

"The fact of the matter is you should have asked. You should have waited."

Soundwave bowed his helm again. "Offer: apology."

"Just... run it by me next time, 'Wave. Please." Hawkmoon waved him out. "You can go."

He rose stiffly and paused by the exit, turning back to her. "Soundwave: stands by Hawkmoon," he said. "Soundwave: believes Hawkmoon will do the same." And he left.

"A little dramatic," Deadlock murmured.

"Hush," Hawkmoon chided. "He means well."

"He's odd."

"'Lock."

"Yeah yeah, shutting up."

They arrived with little fanfare. Hawkmoon forwent recharge if only to hold Invicta at bay, but the weight in her spark and the building pressure of the string told her it wouldn't last. At least she got to see the Mazu system first.

The Revenant spilled out of warp into open void, one amongst many, and all seemed calm. The long-range sensor picked up signs of conflict on the edges of the system, yet the inner worlds were quiet. Seeker signals dotted the atmosphere, hunting down survivor transports and control-sats.

"Cargo haulers," Tarn observed, watching a live-feed of a trine running down another aerial construct. "Few war-drones too." There were a couple of squids but no fighters. No spire-ships. No infantry or artillery on the rocky earth below. "They've already given this place up."

"They've deserted the energon reservoirs," Hawkmoon noted. Soundwave was by her side, his facescreen lighting up with report after report. "They're not empty either."

"They could be trapped."

"Could be. Fortress Maximus probably knows that."

"Or poisoned," Megatronus added. He had his servos braced against the railing, digits clenched tight. "They know we're coming."

"Fleet's on the watch," Tarn said. "So if they mean to circle around, we'll be ready."

"What about Cybertron?"

"They'll bridge us back in if the Drezhari show up."

"When it comes to a straight fight," Hawkmoon said, "we have the advantage of armour. Drezhari don't build their drones tough. Or equal for that matter. Same goes for their navy; they prefer numbers. They'll try to bog us down."

"But they haven't."

"No. They haven't." Hawkmoon studied the hologram. "So either they're gearing up to hit us at any moment... or they're consolidating at the next system, wherever that might be."

Soundwave shifted. "Fortress Maximus: has dispensed orders. Warfleet: to hold position. Seeker armada: will flush Drezhari from Mazu-Era."

"Anything for the Revenant in particular?"

"Hold."

"Yeah thanks." Hawkmoon huffed. "What do we do now?"

"Fortress Maximus: awaiting word from alien conglomerates arrayed against Acquiestical."

"That's... good. Very good." She nodded. "'Bout time."

"You know these aliens," Tarn said. It wasn't a question.

"I've friends in both camps."

"They're organic, are they not?"

Hawkmoon looked him in the optic. "Never bothered me. Does it bother you?"

Tarn bowed his helm. "I suppose not."

Megatronus was watching them carefully. "What do these aliens want?" he growled - though Hawkmoon by now knew it was just his normal tone of voice. She was all but certain his voice box was damaged. He certainly had the scars to prove it.

"Same as us," Hawkmoon said coolly. "To be done with the Drezhari. The Eimin-Tin want to settle a debt of honour and the Taishibethi are just looking for a new home. I know them. They don't want to pick fights, only end 'em."

Megatronus hummed thoughtfully. It sounded like the build-up to a snarl.

"But until they make contact," she continued, "all we can do is keep on waiting."

It was hell. Actual hell. Hawkmoon knew pain. She'd died a hundred times. Her wings had been torn off. She dreamed of her first moments as an Exo, screaming and screaming and screaming until her voice modulator gave out. But it ended. Always ended. There were lingering pains like the grief in her heart or the rage in her belly (tanks, fuel tanks, don't forget), but that was... ephemeral.

The red string didn't abate. It gave her respite only when it was expected of her to talk, to show, to be there for others. When those moments passed, it drove her into disappearing. To wandering. To delving into the depths of the Revenant all over again. It wasn't so much a surprise when she found herself, again, upon Airachnid's shadowed doorstep. She could've gone to Contagion. The smart thing to do would've been to lose the servo altogether, have him construct her a replacement. Fear of questions she couldn't exactly answer kept her from doing so.

COME. TO. ME.

Hawkmoon ducked her head and rapped her knuckles against the door frame until the agony and exhaustion cut that short and she was left bracing against it just to keep standing. Airachnid appeared before long, scuttling into the soft light with a demure smile. It didn't last. She saw Hawkmoon, saw her state and blurted, "What is it?"

"I..." Hawkmoon offlined her optics, shamed and angry and so, so afraid. "I need your help. You work with minds?"

Airachnid crawled closer. "What of it?" she shot back, all humour gone.

"I need to max out my pain blockers." Hawkmoon gestured to the back of her helm. She onlined her optics again. Airachnid stood before her, dubious and wary. "Please. As a favour."

"An Emirate's favour..." Airachnid's smile returned, all sly and hopeful and too damn dangerous. "Do you want to take this to the medbay?"

Frag no.

"No," Hawkmoon said, desperate to get started and desperate to hide it. "I'm not in the mood to make it a whole occasion."

"I understand. Come." Airachnid led her inside. There was more webbing. Hawkmoon allowed herself to be seated on what was almost a hammock and tried not to react as Airachnid scampered behind her. "I won't need to reach far, but you'll have to open your ports."

Hawkmoon's wings twitched nervously. With a ragged vent she opened the neural ports on the back of her helm and waited-

The feeling of digits was cold. Unnerving. Familiar in all the worst ways.

"You have scarring here," Airachnid observed.

Nightbeat's forced cortical patch. Hawkmoon grimaced. "It's nothing."

"I... see." Care was taken to avoid the central port. Hawkmoon would've shivered if she could. She hated how exposed she was. Airachnid, thankfully, worked quickly. The tips of her claws found their way inside the base of her helm, traced a touch too suggestively over delicate circuity and... the pain...

It stopped. There was a faint pressing sensation on her digits, but it didn't hurt anymore. Hawkmoon sagged in relief.

"If I may-" Airachnid started to say.

"You may not," Hawkmoon tersely interrupted. "Terms of our agreement. If you want a Drezhari, I'll need your silence."

The digits left her ports. Slowly Airachnid circled around to look her in the optic. The smile was gone. "Very well," she said, meaning it - and then it was back again. "A pleasure doing business with you."

Hawkmoon nodded wordlessly and stood to leave.

"But," Airachnid called after her, making her stall. "It doesn't always have to be business."

Hawkmoon said nothing. She glanced back, once, and left.

Deadlock found her quickly, just a couple of levels up. "I thought I was supposed to be your bodyguard?"

"Only in part," Hawkmoon said lightly, jostling him. She almost sent him sprawling. "Sorry, sorry-"

"It's fine," he said, optical ridge quirked. "You do realise you're twice my weight?"

Was she supposed to take offense? Hawkmoon settled on a simple, "Oops."

"You good?"

She shrugged. "I'm gonna check up on the hangar. Coming with?"

Deadlock nodded. "Can't see how anyone could've made off with your stuff."

"Our stuff."

"No, I'm pretty sure this whole ship's in your name."

Hawkmoon huffed. "You check your 'quipment, right?"

"Yeah, because I don't want it stolen."

"No one's stolen anything. I'm just checking. That's part of the job."

"What job?"

"Someone's, I dunno." Hawkmoon paused, trying to find something to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Slipped my mind, what with everything going on, but did you ever get to call Axelshift?"

Deadlock grunted. "Once or twice."

"Thought you two were involved."

"Long time ago."

"Huh." Hawkmoon carried on. They emerged in the hangar, beheld the shuttles, the drone-tanks and a couple of landbridge-beacons. "What do you think?"

"That everything's in order?"

"Seems it." They only gave the place a cursory look. "That's that I 'spose."

Deadlock caught her arm on the way out. "Hawkmoon-"

She looked down at his servo. He let go. "Yes?"

"... Look, if you need to talk with someone..." Deadlock hesitated. "Okay, I don't know what the frag I'm talking about-"

"Are we friends, 'Lock?"

He blinked. "I work for you."

"Does that mean no?"

"I... I think so." Deadlock vented softly. "Guess that's why I'm bothered. You did me a solid, been doing it for a while, so... whatever happened earlier."

Hawkmoon raised an optical ridge. "I'm fine, 'Lock."

"Everyone knows otherwise, 'Moon."

'Moon. She shuttered her optics. Adria called her the same thing, but it sounded different in English-Kurmanji. In Cybertronian…

"Did I cross a line?" Deadlock asked.

"My trine called me 'Moon," Hawkmoon said without emotion.

"Ah… my bad."

"Naw, it's fine, just... need to get used to it. You were saying?"

Deadlock regarded her warily. "You recharged badly," he said. "Saw it plain as. If it's your old bonds, I dunno how bad that'll hurt but... I am here."

"Sweet of you." Hawkmoon walked onwards. "I'm good, 'Lock. I'll live."

He rushed to match her longer strides. "Don't want to lay it on thick-"

"You're alright."

"-but all I'm sayin' is... I'm in your corner. Don't forget it."

Hawkmoon smiled despite the biting, tearing feeling in her spark. "How could I ever forget?"

Augur was waiting in her chambers again. Hawkmoon paused just beyond the threshold. One of his ears was torn. Tails frayed. Visible limp. Jaws open and tongue lolling out. She didn't stay watching long; Hawkmoon darted inside, closed the door behind her and rushed over.

"Fucking hell!" she swore, falling to her knees in front of him. "What happened?"

He gasped and all but fell into her servos. "Her," he whimpered. "Her. She avenges herself upon me."

She helped back to his feet. "Can you run?"

"From her? Never." Augur laughed humourlessly. "If she wants my death she'll have it."

"Augur. She can't treat you like this."

"Why ever not?"

Hawkmoon scowled. "Because it's wrong."

Augur nosed against her digits. The feeling was cold but firm. "We're all villains in someone else's story, Seeker," he murmured. "You well know I'm no innocent."

"Neither is she."

"The Varanid does not care." Augur paused. "She is her father's daughter. Always has been, always will be."

A thought struck Hawkmoon and it sobered her quickly. "Is this because of me?"

"Hawkmoon?"

"I blocked her out-"

Augur laughed again. "Then she allowed it. You can't simply cast her out."

"Not even if I waggle a chicken and speak ancient Sumerian?"

"I... don't... what?"

"Nevermind." Hawkmoon sat back, stabilisers shifting. "What does she want, Augur?"

Augur looked at her incredulously. "To help you," he said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "To train you."

"I don't need training."

"The Angel isn't a mere Hive sorcerer. He is a lord in the Darkness, a commander over legions and vanguard to the Eternal Foe. You instructed me to find you the means to kill him-"

"Invicta isn't giving us the means," Hawkmoon said sharply. "She's just..."

"She's just what, Seeker?"

"She's using us."

"We all use-"

"No. No, Augur. Friends don't use each other."

"Are we still friends?"

"We were - up until the point I realized I was nothing more than a means to an end."

Augur flicked his tails. "Greater alliances have been built on less."

"I don't want an alliance. I want to trust you." Hawkmoon huffed and stepped away. "Neither of you have dealt fairly by me. I'm willing to fight, but I won't be a toy. I won't ever be manipulated again."

"She won't manipulate," Augur whispered. "Not when force will suffice."

"We'll see." Hawkmoon flexed her digits. The red string slapped them back together. "She's waiting for me, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"How long will that last?"

"Until the last stars die out. You are her mark. She never gives up."

"Joy." Hawkmoon waved him off. "Go lurk or whatever it is you do. I'll have a chat with her."

Augur sullenly padded away. He stopped by the door and looked as if he wanted to say something, then thought better of it and stepped through.

Alone at last, Hawkmoon sat on the edge of her berth and held her faceplates in her servos. The panic crept through her, legs like a centipede, and left her spark trembling. She-

She didn't know. What Invicta intended for her, what it would entail, if it would hurt... and that frightened her. She felt like a trapped animal with no way to escape, waters rising all around. The worst part was that even bereft of pain she could feel the need for a recharge in her struts. There was no point delaying it any further. Not when there was nothing else to do.

But-

She deserved a couple of moments at least. To collect herself. To brace for whatever was to come.

"Right," Hawkmoon whispered. "Right, let's have you."

The string tensed - and she allowed herself to fall back, fall in, fall away to the currents of other-space. It was different. Cybertron and its sun were gone, replaced with so much drifting debris Hawkmoon instinctively ducked. There was an asteroid underfoot. And... more bodies. Drezhari again.

Invicta stood somewhere ahead, watching the distant swell of Mazu-Era. She wore her robes and amulet, massive and daunting and so, so very human.

"You are a warrior," she said. The words reverberated through the void, amplified by a strange resonance in the false-space. "You risk your survival for that of a greater cause."

Hawkmoon grew furious. "Hey-"

"A warrior is what we need. But He is a warrior too." The amulet flashed. Shadows gathered, red as carrion, and quickly obscured Invicta from view. In her place grew the shape of something massive, something bipedal, something winged and armed and laughing.

Greshar. She made a Greshar.

"Oh," Hawkmoon said, stumbling back, "fuck."

The Angel saw her. It lunged quick - blades flashing, claws rending, flames licking. It reached her, ran her through, opened her chassis and scrounged quickly through her internals, looking, looking, looking-

She died screaming - not in pain but fear, the sheer horror of watching a beast tear out her tanks, her cables, her valves and glowing spark. That was it. She was dead. Until the shadows faded and Hawkmoon laid there, whole and unharmed and shaking like a newborn lamb. The terror was like ice in her fuel-lines, spark a-thrumming like her life depended on it. Hawkmoon reached to her chest, found it unbroken and vented hard.

Invicta stood over her. "He killed you," she said. "Try again."

Another red shadow formed. Not Greshar but something smaller, steel-like and many-limbed. A collection of metal faces twisted on its front. It chittered and roved and found her with its whipping tendrils. Hawkmoon tried crawling away, tried activating her thrusters but its tentacles caught her first, coiled her, ripping into her plate and skewered her a dozen times over.

And that, too, faded.

Hawkmoon sprung to her pedes in an instant and drew the Nullblade.

"Better," Invicta commented. "Be armed."

"The hell was that?!" Hawkmoon demanded, fear giving way to anger's familiar burn.

Invicta did not shrug, did not move her head, did not move at all. "The Hellsong," she said. "Greshar's second. Chief amongst the Drezhari."

The Hellsong. Cyclonus' suspicions were all but confirmed, because Hawkmoon recognized it was nothing short of a real Quintesson Judge. She activated the Nullblade's Void core and brought it to bear, aligning it with Invicta's mask. "Enough," she ordered. "That's enough. I'm not playing your games."

"This is no game. This is a test."

"Don't care. Fuck off."

Invicta stared at her for a long time. "You have the option to be more. I've given you that. Whatever you become, that is of your volition. All I offer is guidance."

Hawkmoon looked around. With a muttered curse she opened the palm of her off-servo with her claws, willing a rupture into other-space to bring her back.

It didn't appear. What was worse, more red shadows gathered around the edges of Invicta's robes. "We have time," she said. "Kill them. Or they will kill you."

Another Hellsong appeared. It flew in fast. Hawkmoon forced a roar past gritted denta and met it halfway.

She 'died'. Over and over. First Hawkmoon tried to defend herself long enough to test the bounds of other-space, looking for an escape route, but there was none. Flying away achieved nothing; the red shadows always dragged her back down in the end. Unlike their prior encounter Invicta refrained from physically handling her, but she was more than content to watch as her puppets went to work.

The only solace was the lack of pain. Airachnid's handiwork had been thorough. Hawkmoon almost bemoaned it for the lack of lessons learned, but that faded in time.

So she died. Over and over again. Until she could discern a pattern and fight back. They were strong. They were quick. They were ruthless and they took enjoyment out of butchering her. The Hellsong was fueled by rage not unlike her own and he always went for the kill. Greshar, alternatively, played with her. He was the greater of the two and when pushed he didn't stop to call for reinforcements; he simply took her apart piece by piece until there was nothing left to fight back.

That, of course, left her gasping for a breath that wouldn't come. The panic reduced her to a defenceless lump of steel, dead and dead and dead all over again. It almost sapped the courage from her.

"We will not cease," Invicta called out, "until progress is made."

Setting her jaw, folding her wings, Hawkmoon levered herself back up-

And Greshar ripped her in two.

Eventually, as the timeless realm grew ever more timeless, Hawkmoon began to ascribe traits to each opponent. The Hellsong was a wolf plain and simple; it harried her, it nipped at her, it wore her down until it could kill her quickly, devoted to the outcome rather than the process. What was more, the Hellsong was alone, utterly bereft of its pack. One-on-one, Hawkmoon began to turn the fight against it. She hurt it, even as it decapitated her. She pried its protective plating loose. She took some of its faces. She severed its tendrils and split its squid-head open and cut its multi-faceted spark apart.

There were no more Hellsongs to fight after that.

Unfortunately, Greshar was another matter entirely - and, oh, oh Greshar was a big cat, a jungle cat, he needed no one and his first and only desire was to claw her hide, to swat her between his paws, to strum her jugular like a harp. If he wasn't dismembering her then he was burning her, then he was filling her mind with blinding delirium and watching her squirm. All for the sheer fucking pleasure of it.

Hawkmoon tried to fight back. His ethereal form was impervious to small-arms fire. Claws found nothing but heat. The Nullblade cut through mist and left it sizzling but that was like trying to kill a grown man with nothing but a little wood splinter. He had no organs. No heart. Nothing to aim for. What wounds she inflicted healed quicker than she could capitalize on. He was larger than life and greater than was possible. If the Drezhari truly worshipped him as a god then they weren't wrong to do so, because there wasn't an inch of mortality in him.

He chuckled and swept the Nullblade aside, piercing her with his hand and rearranging her insides. One death amongst dozens. Hundreds. An infinite more left to work through. Frustration added to her fury, adding to the smouldering sensation in her bleeding spark. Hawkmoon's impatience gave way to draw bloody retribution out of his steaming corpse. It grew as he pulled her wings off, it grew as he plucked her optics out, it grew as he drew her spark out still connected to her fuel-lines and neural cables.

When he pulled away and the red shadow reset once more, that was when it all became too much. That was when she heard it. A crack, resounding from her own sparkchamber. A sensation ran from the tips of her wings all the way down to her pedes. Hawkmoon doubled, overcome with stinging relief and fathomless dread, as the feeling of other-space took on a new note. It felt... cold. Empty. Lingering signatures here and there - until she beheld the form of Invicta and that...

Oh that. That was Darkness. That was fire and ice and life and death and a yearning for more. To conquer. To command. To control. Hawkmoon drowned, she drowned in her pitiful human-ness, drowned for lack of lungs, drowned in the Deep... until she learned to breathe again, vents hissing heat.

"What," she whispered, so aghast, so bewildered, so lost, "did you do to me?"

The shadows faded. "I freed you," Invicta said. "This shape you sought on your own." She swept her hand, flushing her back out-

-into realspace. Hawkmoon collapsed, only catching herself on her knees and servos. Her EM-field flared, found nothing. A moment passed. Another. The silence wrapped around her like a blanket.

She broke it with a hysterical scream - because the power she felt in Invicta now resided within her.

It felt like hunger. A yearning she didn't know how to quench. A need to break and destroy and become. That was what she told Augur. He watched her carefully from across the room, still licking his wsounds.

"But it's not mine," Hawkmoon said hollowly. Augur laughed. She looked at him sharply. "What's so funny?"

"It is yours," he tittered. "The Varanid did not plant it within you. That would ask a greater sacrifice and not one I think she would be willing to make."

"It's there, Augur."

"And it has always been there. The only difference is that she enticed it to grow." Hawkmoon claws tightened, scoring marks in the floor. "That's a filthy fucking lie. The Dark doesn't do anything but hurt, kill, destroy. It's a parasite-"

"You were reforged of Light and Dark, yes, but the Light abandoned you. The Varanid simply cut the dead weight away. Your own nature moved to fill the gaps in your soul."

He padded over. She fell silent because, because, because-

"What do you feel now?" Augur harshly inquired. "Hm? What do you feel, Seeker?"

... Darkness. Small, faint, but there. A tint of threat on her newest sense. "You use it too?"

"I am it. The Light of my life was taken from me. That is what the Varanid, her mother and their kindred did to us; they freed us from mortality and imprisoned us on the other plane in the same action."

Hawkmoon stood slowly. "You use Darkness?"

Augur huffed. "I've always used it, Hawkmoon. Always. It's always been there. The moment she stripped my form down to my soul? It was the only part of me left. You may hate the Dark but we are nothing without it. Nothing."

"The enemy-"

"Pervert it. They harvest it from others. They feed it with stolen life. Do you blame the blade for doing harm, Hawkmoon, or the one who wields it?"

Her servos curled into fists. "You can do both."

Augur scoffed. "You've hurt others. You've killed. You've destroyed. You're a parasite too - you weren't born with that body. The Dark gave it to you - and each replacement before. You were a synthetic long before you donned Cybertronian plate, by way of Darkness. So I ask you: are you evil?"

She wanted to kick him.

"Are you a monster?"

Her pede sailed through his ghostly body.

"No?" Augur turned and trotted away. "I thought not."

"You're a liar," Hawkmoon spat. "A liar. You and Invicta both. No better than Kharad-Tan. To think I ever trusted you."

She thought she saw him flinch on the way out.

It didn't feel near as vindicating as she hoped it would.

Word came. Soundwave reached out to her first before Deadlock could tell her in person: the Stratocracy was sending a recon/diplomat force. They were bringing friends. The Taishibethi.

Oroses had listened.

Hawkmoon showed up at the command deck and waited. The fleet set a new position as a new signature was picked up on the edge of the system. A space-bridge. Too far for her Scrambler to sense, but the Revenant's display gave it away well enough. It was a Taishibethi Raven Bridge. The colours were bright, sun-dappled, and the first thing that pushed through-

"A battleplate," Hawkmoon observed.

Her crew shifted with surprise and unease. "It's massive," Tarn commented. "Those ramparts, those cannons..."

Megatronus' optics shone with fascination. He alone was unperturbed. "How many of these vessels do the aliens command?"

"Enough to darken a world," Hawkmoon replied. "We'll need 'em."

A transmission cut through the noise. Everyone fell silent. Soundwave approached, a figure appearing on his screen, and knelt before her with his helm angled up.

:Emirate: Fortress Maximus rumbled. :Those are your allies?:

"Yes sir." Hawkmoon clasped her servos behind her back.

:Good. I'm compiling emissaries. I want you on that shuttle to lead negotiations. Understood?:

"How many mecha can I bring?"

:Don't crowd 'em. That's all I ask.:

"Thank you sir."

The transmission cut off. Soundwave stood and tilted his helm in silent query.

"Yeah," Hawkmoon answered. "You're coming. Deadlock, get Orion." She turned back to the holotable and her ragtag 'officers'. "Tarn, you have the Revenant. Give me a couple of Glitched to watch our backs. Megatronus?"

Megatronus raised a ridge.

"Wanna see an alien?"

The battleplate was the Exequy and its admiral the vulture Maniikan. Hawkmoon knew the Taishibethi had sent it both as a promise of the aid they could offer and a warning against foul play. They understood their circumstances were tenuous but they still had more than enough might to bear. It didn't come alone either; the Stratocracy, perhaps in an attempt to appear of equal standing, had outfitted their diplomatic mission with a capital blade-ship named the Rend along with an entourage of five war-frigates, but even clumped together they had nothing on the war-hardened ravens. The Exequy was so large it dwarfed Fortress Maximus' own Galaxus.

By way of terse radio transmissions each species decided on using the moon Mazu-Aza-Minoris-IV as a pseudo-neutral ground. The surface was lethally cold, the atmosphere nonexistent, and the entire moon rife with unfettered solar radiation, but it was something and that, Hawkmoon supposed, was all it needed to be. They weren't even going to set foot on it. The Rend would receive them, as well as dignitaries from the Exequy, and they'd conduct their business in a Stratocractic environment. The fleet, the Eimin-Tin frigates, and the battleplate would keep their distance. The only reason they didn't use Mazu-Era was because the fleet was still draining its energon reserves.

The approach was far more intense than it should have been. Hawkmoon and her mecha had been received aboard the Outward Principle by a short silver mech with an easy smile and easygoing gait. "'M Jazz," he said, visor bright. "An' yer that hotshot who showed up the Senate."

Hawkmoon smiled back. It was hard not to. "You got a big crew?"

"Ain't mine. I'm just a messenger with a passin' interest in other-other folk. C'mon." He ushered them aboard. There were others - Iaconians, Kalisian, delegates from Crystal City and Harmonex - but most kept their distance, either cowed by the sight of Megatronus by her side or busy skimming through dataslates. "These mecha, they never 'ad much interest in Eimin-Tin before," Jazz continued. "And these Tai none a' all. No need. This has gotta be a helluva novelty."

Stormclash leaned forward. "I love your accent."

Her sister tried to shush her, but Jazz's smile only widened. "Yeah?"

"Where's it from?"

"Undercity," Orion said, then froze. "Oh. I apologize."

"Wha' for?" Jazz asked.

"For... nevermind."

"Iaconian Undercity more specifically," Deadlock said, utterly at ease. He regarded Jazz with some interest. "North delve, right?"

Jazz chuckled. "Righ'. You've been?"

"Some. On business."

"Business, huh. Anyone ever tell ya you got a familiar set of-"

The shuttle trembled to life.

"An' we're off," Jazz said cheerfully. He studiedDeadlock a moment longer before visibly shrugging to himself.

Hawkmoon lost her smile and turned to Soundwave. "Everyone behaving?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"I don't just mean on the Revenant."

"Taishibethi: holding position. Eimin-Tin: dispersing armed escort. Galaxus' report: no additional energon signatures detected."

"Good." She absentmindedly worried at the string. Every time it so much as twitched she felt something cold in her spark - and her pain blockers weren't doing a damn thing about it. What was worse was the sense of pressure, building up to... Hawkmoon didn't want to know. Something extra Dark, maybe.

Augur hadn't returned. That bothered her too. Some small part of her thought she should apologize, given his own attitude regarding Kharad-Tan, but every time the anger won out. He used to be her friend, yes, but he lied to her. Repeatedly.

Even if she had to kill to get it, Hawkmoon was going to be free. No one made a puppet of her. No one.

Transit didn't take long, though the press of everyone's EM fields became stifling. Hawkmoon flicked her wings in irritation; Soundwave and Jazz were fine, Megatronus exuded only a vague sense of anticipation, but the rest she could have gone without.

"Easy," Skyburst whispered - to her sister. Stormclash vented softly.

The shuttle slowed to a stop beneath the Rend. It was slow to receive them, slower to permit their landing, but once it did there was a rush to get things done. "Order!" one of the Elite Guard shouted. Hawkmoon stood, pushed past the dignitaries to the front and motioned to the door. The guardsmechs looked at her, at each other, then did as they were bid. A soft orange light trickled in. Hawkmoon stepped out, into the familiar humid air the Eimin-Tin liked so much, and beheld a squadron of silk-serpents both armed and armoured. A trio of Akildn stood at their head.

One of them stepped forward with their helmet melting into transmat.

"Well," Hawkmoon said, faceplates breaking into a wide smile. Forgotten were the Drezhari, Iacon, even the Dark. "Now there's some luck."

"Not luck," Elulim chittered back, grinning veirself. "Not quite."

Hawkmoon strode forth, met ver halfway and drew ver into a quick embrace, almost lifting Elulim into the air. "'Lulim, how've you been?"

Elulim slithered out of her grasp, teeth bared but lips quirked. "Good. Oh, very good," ve said. "Better now that we have you."

Hawkmoon became aware of her entourage fanning out behind her. "Brought a couple of friends. Wait a mo'." She beamed datapackets bearing the Eimin-Tin language, Irinum, to each of them. "There."

Elulim looked at them, looked past, then ushered veir cohorts and a couple of confused city-born Eimin-Tin onwards. They moved on to meet with the rest of the diplomats. "Better, I hope, than your last friend."

Hawkmoon's cheer faded. "Have you heard anything?"

"Of Ser'Ket? No. I prefer it that way." Elulim watched as Megatronus approached. "What is this one?"

"Megatronus," he rasped. "Of Kaon."

Elulim regarded him with glittering eyes, then bowed veir beaked head. "Elulim, vaunted Akildn of Penchant."

"This is Soundwave," Hawkmoon introduced, "Deadlock, Orion Pax, Stormclash, Skyburst and-" She paused. "Jazz."

Jazz waved cheerfully.

"Go away," Deadlock snapped.

The mech pretended not to hear him. "Glad to be here."

Hawkmoon rolled her optics and chose to ignore him. If the Iaconian wanted to be a nuisance, then he'd have to try harder. "So. What's new?"

Elulim looked at her, looked at them all, and said, "The captain wants to receive you all in the amphitheatre. I'll show you there."

"Will you be joining us?"

"I haven't been ordered not to." Elulim glanced around, as if daring anyone to contradict ver, but the Eimin-Tin in the immediate vicinity bowed their heads. Ve snorted in derision. "Come."

They followed ver deeper into the ship. A small group of Eimin-Tin soldiers fell in step around them, though Elulim paid them little mind. "Just doing their job," Hawkmoon murmured, seeing Megatronus' discomfort.

His only response was a reluctant chuff.

They arrived in a wide, spacious room humming with air filters. Force-projectors were inlaid across the ceiling, ready in case someone decided playing nice wasn't to their tastes. There were a couple of Taishibethi present, a pair of them, and they wore long robes with sunswords belted to their waists. At the sight of her they glided over and bowed as one. Deadlock and the twins warily inched forward, ready to defend her.

"Draconarius," the larger of the Tai said.

Elulim cocked veir head. Hawkmoon cleared her vents and asked, quite delicately, "What?"

"Draconarius," the other bird echoed. "You honour us with your oversight."

Hawkmoon felt everyone's optics on the back of helm. "I... don't know what that means."

The second Tai opened his beak, but the first nudged him. "It's not our place to say," she said. "An honour to know you." They hurried away, whispering and throwing looks behind them, leaving her utterly bewildered.

"That's not Irinum," Orion quietly pointed out.

"Right, yeah." Hawkmoon quickly beamed them her files on Taishibethi, Myod, and Eecharik dialects. "That was... weird."

Elulim hummed ver agreement, though ve didn't linger on it. Ve guided them over to a parapet on the edge of the room, far from the Tai, and welcomed them to sit. Hawkmoon, Orion and Jazz, who she figured had been assigned to watch them, did so, while the others remained on their pedes.

"So," Elulim said, looking at each of them in turn. "What happened?"

"Oh boy." Hawkmoon leaned forward, elbows on her knees and digits steeled under her chin. "That's a tale and then some."

"I'd like to hear it."

"I'm sure you would. You got my message?"

"Thema relayed it, yes, but I'd like to know more.

"Alright" Her grin fading, Hawkmoon began - covering in brief her flight back to Cybertron, her trouble in Freeport Azal, the stint in the Vosian Palace, her ascension as Emirate and the Prime's assassination, followed by the search for his killer. She refrained from commenting on the Dark, on Augur or how she used the Leylines to escape the Drezhari's agents. "They framed this mech here," she said, nodding to Deadlock. He straightened self-consciously.

Elulim looked him over. "Yes," ve said. "I'd believe it looking at him." Deadlock frowned but ve only smiled. "That's a compliment, killer."

"I'm not... that's not... why-"

Ve raised a hand. "I really want to hear the rest of this. We'll definitely speak later."

Deadlock blinked. Hawkmoon reluctantly continued - following her encounter with Deadlock, her chase after Nightbeat, all the way to Caminus and the Black Garden itself. That part she glossed over sparingly; there were just too many delicate details. After that she had Soundwave play a recording of the confrontation in the Senate, including her fight with Greshar's proxy. Though she doubted Elulim understood Cybertronian ve still listened raptly.

"That is a tale," ve said at length.

"The way we're goin', it's not even finished."

"You mean to kill the Angel?"

Hawkmoon shrugged. "Has to be done."

Elulim made a coughing sound deep in veir throat. It wasn't a laugh. Not quite. "We heard of your rise even so far as Penchant."

"Oh?"

"But I do not understand it. What is an Emirate?"

"Frag if I know."

"We... we studied this," Orion said, disbelieving.

Hawkmoon rolled her optics. "Yeah yeah, we did. It's someone who speaks on behalf of a Prime? They have a portion of their power, separate from the senate.

"Sounds... complicated," Elulim said. "And to think you treated your summons like a death march."

"No one told me at the time."

"If they had?"

"Wouldn't have changed a damn thing."

"No? A quick campaign, the adoration of your people, a monster to slay? I can think of worse fates."

"We're not certain to kill Greshar, adoration's a little much, and a quick campaign? That's ambitious."

Elulim chuckled.

"What?" Hawkmoon demanded, frowning.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Oh, Seeker, just you wait. You'll like this." Elulim left it there - well-timed, Hawkmoon had to admit, because an Eimin-Tin official guided the rest of the fleet's dignitaries inside. An Akildn in gilded armour arrived after them, flanked by the Taishibethi admiral Maniikan, and they stopped by the edge of the holotable in the centre of the room.

"Project," ve snapped.

The lights dimmed. A hologram flared to life above them - a huge blanket of glittering stars, separated by winding borders of various colours. The cut-off point of the Brachian Divide was abrupt, haunting, foreboding. Hawkmoon quickly moved on. Cybertron's location, as well as those of various known colonies, were clearly marked with steel grey silhouette's. Altogether they controlled a greater swathe of territory than Hawkmoon had anticipated. By comparison the Stratocracy's holdings were smaller if more densely packed. It was on the edge of Camien space that the newborn Taishibethi demesne began, surrounding the system containing Deliverance and working out in a web-like fashion from there.

But the Drezhari were most striking. They weren't the Tai web, the Stratocracy orb, the Cybertronian puddle. They resembled nothing more than a spined sea urchin - a cancerous growth in yellow striking out at distant star systems with golden needles.

"What is this?" someone asked.

"These," the Akildn growled, "are the campaign lines. Are your leaders listening, steel-wrought?"

Some mecha murmured affirmatives. A couple looked her way.

"Good."

Maniikan fluttered his wings and dipped his beak to the Akildn, who in turn gestured for him to take over. "Cybertronians," he croaked, quills on end and claws gripping the frayed edges of his sleeves. "I stand here in the stead of the Arch-Admiral, who offers her sympathies for your losses and lauds your bravery in these trying times. The Taishibethi Remnant too stands against the Drezhari Acquiestical. We offer you our aid in all things tactical."

No one said a thing. Maniikan tilted his head.

"The only thing we ask for is your trust. We understand we are unknown to you-"

"No," someone interrupted. "The Emirate knows you."

Maniikan's eyes sought her out. "The Draconarius." He lifted his beak. "She would, just as we know - and adore - her."

Had she cheeks they would have flushed. Hawkmoon awkwardly inclined her head. "Marooner," she greeted.

"Still, we are more than aware we remain unknown to most," Maniikan continued, nonplussed. "We are newcomers on these 'shores', though not defenseless. Your kin on Caminus have come to know us for the benevolence found beneath the shadow of our wings. Would that we could offer you the same."

"The Camiens are set to arrive soon," Jazz whispered. Hawkmoon glanced at him. He shrugged. "Or so I've heard."

"We wouldn't have bothered to disturb you," Maniikaan said, lowering himself, "if not for the Angel's corpse-men. You know them already - desecrators, thieves, murderers. Deliverance, Penchant, Cybertron; each of our worlds have felt their touch. The Remnant desires one thing: to return the favour. We believe you desire the same."

"The Stratocracy has agreed to join the Remnant in a renewed campaign," the Akildn announced. "We bid Cybertron to join us."

A murmur went through those present. One mech, an Iaconian by the cut of his plate, said, "Fortress Maximus concurs, but he expects terms."

The Akildn made a flippant gesture. "Yes, of course, but that is a task for legislators and consuls. Not warriors."

"We're ambassadors," someone muttered.

The Akildn narrowed veir eyes. "Of course you are," ve said. He motioned to the table and the image zoomed in on the Drezhari lines. "Then I suggest you relay this to your commanders, steel-wrought."

"What is this?"

Ve looked as if about to snap. "The Acquiestical's area of influence."

"Why is it so-"

"According to the Stratocrat's gifted logicians," Maniikan smoothly took over, "this is how the Drezhari wage war. It's not conventional, it's not pragmatic, but from what we deduce it's how they like it. The corpse-men aren't interested in territory. You doubtless know this already. All the Drezhari desire are raw material or pre-forged mechanisms, preferably of Cybertronian origin. Materials can be found anywhere; as we know it, they've focused mining operations on those systems closest to home. But for everything else? They raid.

"What you see is a record of every Drezhari strike. They strip everything they need from a world and move on. They don't leave outposts. They don't leave mines. They consolidate their treasures and they ship them home by way of space-bridge or warp. By virtue of their far-ranging assaults, we previously believed them to hold a vast territory garrisoned with more automaton platforms than we have soldiers to fight. We now know this to be mostly untrue."

"Here," the Akildn cut in. The hologram zoomed in again, this time on a single star system. "The Sancta system. We know from hacked command modules both its coordinates and its layout. Sancta Solemn, the star, is a red giant of extreme luminosity. The Drezhari have almost entirely caged it in solar farms. It's orbited by three planets of solid rock named Core-1, Core-2, and Core-3. Every other body in the system has been mined down to space dust. Now, while the Acquiestical prefers to engage abroad via reckless squid-action - as our logicians have taken to calling this..." the Akildn gestured ineffectively at the hologram. "They still go to great lengths to keep their nest unapproachable. War-fleets hang in stasis-lock across the system. Each of the Core worlds are seeded with battle-satellites, their server-cities shelled in adamantine hull, and their high-command units secreted away beneath the planets' mantle. By virtue of consolidation, they've built the most formidable fortress-worlds we've ever encountered."

"Bridge in," someone said. "Drop a moon on their helms."

Hawkmoon offlined her optics, trying (really fucking hard) not to think too hard on why that made her so anxious.

"We've tried," the Akildn shot back. "Not with doomsday devices but surveillance probes. They possess the capability to pre-ordain a space-bridge's opening point and annihilate whatever we send through. A full-scale assault on the Stratocracy's part alone is out of the question. We don't have the forces necessary to carve a beachhead, let alone conquer their worlds. Not when they anticipate where we come from at every point."

"That would be the Vosian Weapons Division," Hawkmoon called out. She was just as surprised as anyone else - why the frag was she talking? Pausing to collect herself, she stood and looked around. "The Drezhari either planted agents or courted members of the Weapons Division on Cybertron to deliver experimental weapons. I have cause to believe the Division was developing systems to tamper with space bridge technology - amongst other things."

The Akildn nodded to her. "Thank you..."

"Emirate Hawkmoon."

"Ah." Veir eyes lit up. "You fought the Drezhari at Site Reus, did you not?"

"She did," Elulim cheerfully confirmed.

"Good. At least someone here has experience."

The debriefing took a while longer. The Akildn became more incensed as it became clearer that most Cybertronians present weren't part of the leadership and, though Maniikan tried to ease tensions, ve eventually gave up, speedily ran through the rest of the presentation and handed them over to a Stratocratic officer. From there the Taishibethi helped guide them towards negotiations regarding energon transfers, personnel relocation, the formation of mixed sub-fleets and, of course, who would receive the largest share of the spoils of war.

Hawkmoon could only bear to listen for so long; Cybertron wanted energon, the Stratocracy wanted every bio-world to seed new colonies and factory worlds to supply them, and the Taishibethi only really wanted the Drezhari dead. It should have been clear-cut, but someway, somehow, people started to argue over this and that. It was exhausting.

"Makes you want for a blade," Elulim hissed. "Something to cut through the noise."

Deadlock grunted. "Never thought there'd be so much haggling."

"Is Thema aboard?" Hawkmoon asked, desperate for something else to occupy her. Orion, and Skyburst with him, had wandered closer to listen in. Soundwave looked as if he wanted to join them but resolutely remained by her side.

Elulim huffed. "He's not. I lost him near the Whorl Stars."

"He's dead?"

"Not yet. No, I slipped his leash is all. Managed to link up with this pack-" Elulim pointed her beak to the other Akildn "-when I heard we'd be joining with you and yours."

Hawkmoon nodded slowly. "What's next for you?"

Elulim made a show of considering it, but there was a glint in veir eyes that told Hawkmoon ve already had something in mind. "I've had my fill of defending far-flung colonies. I'll find a way to join whichever fleet follows yours to Sancta."

"'Lulim. What are you planning?"

"Must I be planning anything?"

"The last time you had that look, you launched us into the Undergrowth."

"Wasn't it fun?"

"It was fragging terrifying." Hawkmoon lost her smile. "Speaking o' which... Rampage is gone."

Elulim's visage sharpened. "Dead? At last?"

"I wish. We... I think the Division had his spark. It was seized on my return. The Drezhari will have it now."

"That doesn't bode well."

"It sure as hell doesn't."

Elulim's wings shivered. "Then we best fix that."

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

"Oh yes. The Akildn will not stand by while steel-wrought fight our battles for us. The Angel has much to answer for."

Hawkmoon heard a low appreciative hum from Megatronus. He wasn't looking their way, but he was listening nonetheless.

"Can the Revenant house organics?" Hawkmoon asked Soundwave.

He looked at Elulim. "Adjustments: can be made. Environmental specifications: must first be submitted."

Elulim waved him off. "A job for servants. You'll receive them when we're done here."

Hawkmoon clicked her glossa against the roof of her mouth. "But will Fortress Maximus accept it?"

"Hawkmoon: has final say."

"Still."

Soundwave shrugged. "Unknown. Soundwave's prediction: yes."

"Never hurts to pack an extra gun," Deadlock added. "Gotta cover your angles."

Elulim looked up at him and grinned. "I like you."

"I'd like to hear more of the Drezhari worlds," Megatronus said suddenly.

Hawkmoon leaned back. "We can pick up a written report and pore over back on the ship. Don't like the sound of these defences."

"And that's only what our short-lived probes could find," Elulim said. Ve hesitated. "The Coppermen cloak themselves well. We have reason to believe the Angel and the Hellsong station on Core-1, being the original homeworld, but that's mere conjecture. The most pressing issue is that even with our combined forces, there's a swathe of stars on the other side of the Acquiestical we have no information on. Even if the campaign to Sancta is a success, they could fall back to another position."

Hawkmoon recovered the memory file containing the outlined map. "Runs to the edge of the arm, almost to the Divide. That's a big area. Do we know if anyone else is there?"

"A few primitive species, only some having achieved interplanetary flight, but nothing to our level."

"Best hope they're not sitting on old Cybertronian reserves. Drezhari will eat them alive."

They made meaningless small talk, said their goodbyes and left Elulim behind with the promise they'd see each other again soon. Orion was reluctant to leave at all - he somehow caught the attention of one of Maniikan's underlings and the two were fast friends - while Megatronus seemed relieved.

"Not big on talking?" Hawkmoon murmured.

Megatronus only briefly looked at her. "There was a moment where it was interesting."

"When the Akildn spoke?"

"Akildn?"

"The big serpent. They're Akildn, genetically enhanced above the rest of their species."

"Yes, that was it." Megatronus stopped by the ramp and looked back. "I'm not sure what I expected."

Hawkmoon stepped aside, allowing the others to pass. "Monsters, right?"

He looked at her but said nothing.

"It's not so clear cut. Not out here."

"You've met monsters."

"I have. Gotta cherish every time I find a new set of friendly faces."

Megatronus' faceplates shifted to a grimace. "Do they fight well?"

Hawkmoon turned to the hangar. Eimin-Tin soldiers watched them with a mixture of nervousness and resignation. "Well enough. The Akildn are reared for it."

Megatronus nodded slowly. "We'll soon see."

"That we will." Hawkmoon looked down as one of the returnees stopped before her. "Yeah?"

Jazz grinned impishly. "Ya got interestin' friends, Emirate."

"Eavesdropping, were you?"

"Fortress Maximus did send me to listen-"

"No." Soundwave approached from behind. Jazz looked up at him curiously. "Soundwave: investigated. Credentials: false."

"Well," Jazz said, still cheery. "Scrap."

Hawkmoon tensed. Megatronus closed in on him, faceplates contorted into a snarl. "Explain. Yourself," he said, voice so low and dangerous Hawkmoon's own spark quickened with alarm.

Jazz held his servos out. "Not causin' trouble, mech. Just wanted a lil' fun."

Hawkmoon looked at Soundwave. "Iaconian Jazz: not authorised to board Outward Principle. Iaconian Jazz: not authorised with Iaconian contingent. Iaconian Jazz-"

"Is a sneaky little glitch," Jazz finished, "but that's the reach o' it. Not here for anythin' nefarious, Emirate."

"So you snuck aboard a warfleet, slipped onto a diplomatic vessel, all for kicks?" Hawkmoon tilted her helm. "'Cause that's bold."

"Don' I know it."

"You're not Afflicted, are you?"

Jazz's smile fell. "Ooookay, didn't think o' that. I see how you'd be a lil' offput when ya put it tha' way."

Hawkmoon felt the twins' EM fields appear behind her. "What's happening?" Stormclash asked. "Trouble?"

"Dunno. Fetch the captain."

"I... would really, really appreciate if ya didn't," Jazz said quickly.

Hawkmoon raised a ridge.

"I wanna volunteer."

"Of fragging course you do." She rolled her optics. "Stormclash, captain-"

"Wait a... just wait up." Deadlock appeared at the shuttle's door. "What's going on? Hawkmoon?"

Hawkmoon groaned and pointed. "This mech's not a dignitary. He's a stowaway."

"I know."

"What?"

Deadlock frowned. "You didn't?"

"'Lock-"

"He's Undercity."

"I am," Jazz cheerfully agreed.

"Iacon's Functionist to the extreme," Deadlock continued. "Undercity mecha are less than drones in their optics."

"That's... yeah. He ain't wrong."

"You." Hawkmoon glared at Jazz. "Shush."

"Aight." Jazz crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

"Deadlock: did not inform us," Soundwave said coldly.

Deadlock shrugged. "I... I genuinely thought it was obvious."

"Jazz: could be Drezhari agent-"

"He's not."

Megatronus growled. "Would you care to explain how you know this? Instead of wasting our time?"

Deadlook looked at them all. "Because I just called a friend in the Polihexian contingent. His name's on the registrar of those cleared. He's not Afflicted."

"Does he need to be Afflicted to be dangerous?" Stormclash challenged.

"...'Spose not. Frag."

"Can I talk yet?" Jazz whispered.

Hawkmoon leveled him with a look.

"Okay, guessing that's a no..."

"'Lock," she said slowly. "We need to know these things."

"Thought he was already ours."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at his servo." Deadlock pointed. "He's a follower."

Hawkmoon looked at Jazz's servos. "What do you..." Then she saw it. A little bit of dark paint half scrubbed out, lurking just beneath his wrist-plate. Jazz raised it for all to see - a small insignia of someone's faceplates. The impression was sharp, beaked, with a small crest on its forehead and two almost-horns on the sides. It looked...

Well, it looked a little like her faceplates. The beak and the optics were her battlemask, no mistake about it, the flanged cheeks too.

"Huh," Hawkmoon said, utterly at a loss for anything else. The cold pit in her spark twinged uncomfortably.

Megatronus grabbed his arm and held it up for a closer look. With a furious vent he released Jazz and glared down at him. "Really?"

"Not that you've done a scrap job or anything," Hawkmoon commented, "but you butchered my best features."

Jazz chuckled. "Ain't just yours."

"It incorporates part of Megatronus' visage," Megatronus grunted. "The original Prime's battlemask. That was my symbol. The crowds flew it during my fights."

Hawkmoon narrowed her optics. "You wanna explain that one champ?"

Jazz beamed. "Seemed only right," he said, "when you and him," he gestured to Megatronus, "collaborated. If you're a fan o' one, fan o' the other; it was like watching the Harmonican Five workin' with the Depths of Kalis."

"The what?"

"Harmonican Five: popular musical band," Soundwave supplied. "Depths of Kalis: talentless pretenders."

"Hey, you take that back!" Jazz rounded on him with his servos on his hips. "They're the scrap and you know it."

"Soundwave: agrees. Depths of Kalis: worth scrap."

Hawkmoon groaned. "You're telling me we have groupies?"

Deadlock shrugged. "Mecha like what he says and what you do."

"Yeah, that." Jazz bobbed his helm. "Can I come with you now?"

Hawkmoon opened her mouth-

"What's going on?" Orion peeked out from behind Deadlock.

She scowled and waved at him. "Get the frag onboard. All of you. Just... someone watch him." Hawkmoon marched past Deadlock and the twins, her field twisting with frustration.

"Does that mean I'm in?" she heard Jazz ask.

Hawkmoon quickly found a seat, all but fell into it and caught her faceplates with her servos. Megatron's and Soundwave's fields brushed her own; they sat on either side of her, one deep in thought and the other resolute.

"Why'd you pick Megatronus?" Hawkmoon quietly asked.

Megatronus shifted. "He's the fallen Prime. I never felt for the others."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Megatronus was strong," he continued, "and righteous. After his fall from grace, he endeavoured to go out into the void alone and build something new. Something better."

Hawkmoon said nothing.

"He was a warrior and proud of it. There was no shame in his craft. Only pride. I don't regret what I've done, only that it came at the behest of another. If I am to fight, I want it to be my choice. I want to feel proud when I've fought my battles. Not tired. Not scared-" Megatronus cut himself off. After a while he added, "Sentinel belonged to the towerlings. Never us. We never saw his face, never heard his voice. To the crowds, I was the closest thing we had to a Prime. Someone had to do it. Why not me. Emirate-"

"'Moon," she said softly. "Just 'Moon."

Megatronus looked at her. "Then, to you, I am Megatron."

Hawkmoon tried to smile. It manifested as a grimace, punctuated by a twisting feeling in her cold, cold spark. "I didn't mean it to be anything other than it was. An example, maybe, to the other slavers, but..."

"Inspiration."

"Yeah. That. Didn't mean for it."

He snorted. "No?"

"No."

"Because you are one. You flout every taboo there is. Those in the dirt, those in the gutters and the mines and dark places under the cities - they hear you just fine. Louder than me." Megatronus huffed, spilling boiling air from his vents. "You'll always be an inspiration, 'Moon. Whether you intend it or not."

They returned to the Revenant. Against her better judgement Hawkmoon allowed Deadlock and the twins to take Jazz with them. His absence, or perhaps his departure, would surely be marked and as a result his duplicity discovered, but if she were allowed to crew former gladiators then Undercity vagabonds were nothing out of the norm.

She didn't know why she permitted it. Hawkmoon suspected it was because Jazz amused her - or just as likely it was his imprint of her and Megatronus' meshed insignia that left her wanting to keep him close, if for no other reason than to understand.

Lennox-2 never cared for politics. Faction rallies only ever drove her back into the wilds. Her prevailing opinion on the Consensus was that each faction leader was competing to see who could shove a stick farther up their ass. Cybertronian politics were just as bad, if not worse, but - at what point, exactly, had she accepted it? Why was it that the thought of an entire world watching her speak, studying her actions, ceased to leave her servos trembling and her spark racing?

What was it that turned her from a lone Hunter who only ever cruised on the sidelines of civilization into a political animal?

She was still glad to see the back of Jazz by the time they re-emerged aboard the Revenant. The twins escorted him towards the medbay - could never be too sure - and Orion haplessly followed along because of course he did. Without waiting for someone else to draw her into a conversation Hawkmoon took her leave. It would be joors before everything was finalized anyways. High command was working through the kinks on what a pact with Tai and Eimin-Tin would look like and they were doubtless to send repeat ambassador ships, but Hawkmoon doubted they'd need her again. Her place was to ease tensions, not to cement alliances, and she'd played her part well enough. No one was dead yet.

So she wandered. Again. Fought the tickle of Darkness in her spark and meandered through the Revenant's depths, looking, looking, looking-

And found herself before a web-marked door for the third time. Hawkmoon knocked and waited and watched as Airachnid, optics bright, emerged.

"Hawkmoon," she said.

Hawkmoon dipped her helm in terse greeting. "Pain blockers," she said with feigned frivolity. "Can you deactivate them? I need to check something."

Airachnid looked at her with raised ridges, then ushered her inside. "Of course."

Hawkmoon followed to the same low hammock and sat while Airachnid set up behind her. She tried not to flinch as claws worked their way through the ports along the back of her helm-

"You're tense," Airachnid chided. "Relax."

Hawkmoon willed her danger protocols to deactivate. It was... hard. It still wasn't any easier, being so close to another. "Trying."

"Let me help." She felt the touch of Airachnid's kibble-legs along the edges of her upper wings. At first there was a spike of overstimulation, but it was quickly followed by the electrifying feeling of... well. Grooming. It'd been a while. Apparently that was glaringly obvious because even Airachnid remarked on it, "When's the last time you preened?"

"Before I lost my trine," Hawkmoon said coolly.

Airachnid hummed. "No wonder you're on edge. You've so much static build-up I'm surprised your sensors haven't given out."

She offlined her optics and tried to pretend - but Airachnid's field was too different, her touch too exact, the sounds of her bio-functions too quiet. It hurt. Twice as much when the crick she hardly realized was there gave out and she felt good.

"There you are," Airachnid purred. Her touch danced across her circuits. Slowly but surely feeling returned to her pain receptors - and the other systems linked to them. Hawkmoon shivered, wings shaking. She felt the air, the floor beneath her pedes, the synthetic webbing under her legs, the femme behind her-

"And... finished!"

Hawkmoon stood quickly, venting hard, cranial ports snapping shut. She twirled around, beheld Airachnid with her knowing smile and she struck out. Her fist collided with the wall. Airachnid flinched - and froze when Hawkmoon leaned in close, angry and pleased-

And more than she cared to admit.

Airachnid's field collided with her own. Neither of them said a thing. Airachnid smiled again, baring fangs, and Hawkmoon-

Please

-lowered her helm to kiss her. Hard. Airachnid reciprocated instantly. Her servos came up, claws framing Hawkmoon's helm. Fangs scratched her lip. A glossa came in to play. Kibble-legs stretched out, curled around Hawkmoon and drew her in deeper. She moved on, from Airachnid's mouth to her cheek, to the sharp edge of her helm, to the paneling of her neck.

"And this?" Airachnid whispered huskily. "Is this for silence too?"

Hawkmoon disengaged fast. Airachnid blinked up at her in confusion. "I'm not doing this to buy you," she said, more than a little hurt. "If you don't want this-"

A servo caught her shoulder. "Cybertronians," Airachnid growled, lips pulled back. She wrapped an arm around Hawkmoon's neck, pulling her close - and herself up. "Always so quick to overcomplicate things. I do, Seeker. I do want this." She kissed Hawkmoon aggressively.

She kissed back and, though a little hesitant, lost herself to it.

It wasn't anything other than a show of lust and an excuse to blow some steam. That said, it was... a little unusual. Hawkmoon's prior experiences were with another Seeker - as large as herself, mostly human shaped except for the extremely sensitive wings, all on top of Cybertronian anatomy.

Airachnid... was not that. Her spider legs weren't near so sensitive but they were strong and surprisingly deft. She was smaller, enough that Hawkmoon was nervous about hurting her, yet Airachnid seemed to want her to be firm, to be rough. Her optics - eight of them - left Hawkmoon confused while trying to choose which ones to look into, and when she settled for the largest dominant pair on her faceplates a closer look revealed them to be made up of a hundred tiny interlocking lenses each, like a fly's compound eyes.

There were other issues too. Her horns almost gored Hawkmoon's face when she wasn't careful, her fangs left the impression of making out with a vampire, and she was very liberal with her webbing. Airachnid used it to bind, to guide, to all but drag Hawkmoon deeper into the silk-strewn lair she called home.

But it was something. It was feeling. It was a case of physical attraction, nothing more. All Hawkmoon cared about was to find a way to let go.

And when it came to it, an Insecticon's spark wasn't so much different to a Seeker's.

When the pleasure ebbed and Hawkmoon relaxed into the carpet of webbing, she felt Airachnid's claws continue to creep across her frame in an idle fashion. She traced across the draconic teeth framing her cockpit, crinkled the edge of her foil cloak, followed the outline of each silver feather. Hawkmoon took the time to inspect her in turn - the gold trim framing her helm, the soft curve of her horns, the dark paint running under her primary optics and the bottom of her lip to her chin. When Airachnid looked at her it struck Hawkmoon that the colour of their optics were only a few shades apart, from Void-strong violet to vibrant magenta.

Airachnid murmured against her chassis, "And here I thought Seekers had qualms about fraternizing with lesser frames."

"There is no lesser."

"It's written into your laws."

Hawkmoon looked up at the ceiling. She hadn't known about that, but it didn't surprise her. "Cybertron's laws need a once-over."

"When they said you stood against Functionism, I hesitated to believe it. Seekers, as I understood, never had reason to complain."

"I'm not standing against anything."

"Your jaunt in Kaon begs to differ, doll."

Hawkmoon glanced at her. "Doll?"

Airachnid shrugged with one shoulder. She grinned impishly. "You don't like Emirate, Seeker's too uniform. If you're anything, you're a doll."

"I have a designation."

"Designations," Airachnid said, optics flashing with mock defiance, "are boring."

Hawkmoon vented softly. "You do you, spider."

The Camiens arrived after another orn. Nine ships. Nine Titans. Cityspeakers to guide them, crew to maintain them. Nothing more, nothing less. High command greeted them with gusto, but the Camiens roiled with rage. By way of Soundwave Hawkmoon heard their simmering demands to move on, to press the Drezhari now and avenge the Prime. The Mistress of Flame demanded it.

And, just maybe, there was something else they wanted. Suddenly, Cybertron had competition. They weren't the only ones aching for fuel. There were arguments, there were threats, and the only thing that brought it to a halt was the Shockwave's compromise of sixty-forty. Forty percent of all energon proceeds would be left to the Camiens' discretion, while the rest would ship back to the homeworld.

After that the last thing to do was to organise with the Taishibethi and the Eimin-Tin to advance on Sancta in sync. The decision was made to prepare in the Leren's Pride system - another Drezhari depot but far closer to the Acquiestical heartworlds. The order went out. The fleet warped. By the time they arrived there was nothing left to offer resistance. Seven more Tai battleplates waited in grim silence, hovering over shattered Drezhari installations. The Exequy, having followed their warp-path, moved to join with its brethren.

The Eimin-Tin were slower on the uptake and even then they only trickled in fragments of a greater fleet. Of each empire involved theirs was the most scattered, their forces entrenched across a dozen other star systems. One by one their ships warped in, slinking away to settle in an asteroid belt far from the Cybertornian war fleet and the Taishibethi battleplates. No one quite trusted one another. There was just too much firepower concentrated in one place for that.

"How will we know if we have enough?" Orion asked Hawkmoon.

They were watching from the Revenant's bridge as more Eimin-Tin - and their precious Akildn - joined the growing chorus of Stratocratic voices. The war-talks were starting to get rowdy. A massive conference played out on the holoprojector, of which she was theoretically supposed to partake in but thus far had left her end muted. Hawkmoon had sent most of the crew away, leaving only herself, Soundwave, Megatron and Tarn - all to appease Ultra Magnus who still feared Drezhari agents in the fleet. Orion Pax was only there because Megatron had asked it of her. "The more varied our perspective the better," he'd said, his voice unusually soft.

Hawkmoon couldn't find it in her to fault the idea. She just wished the little clerk would stop asking so many damn questions.

"We won't," she answered patiently. "War's a game of gambles. Information can make or break armies, but it's still risk and reward."

"Do you think we have enough?"

"I've seen Taishibethi batteplates hold Hive tombcarriers at bay. We've a Seeker armada to clear the way, the ships to hold the skies and the Titans to lead the ground assault. My only concern is how badly outnumbered we are."

"Better to strike now than let the aliens draw their forces back home," Megatron growled.

"But if they have the sensors to detect space bridges before they open, we stand the risk of flying into a trap," Tarn observed.

That seemed to be the concern of the Taishibethi. A Cybertronian proposed opening a space bridge and sending the battleplates through first to absorb the brunt of Drezhari fire. One of the admirals retorted that the Titans would be more suitable - and that just kicked the Camiens into a frenzy.

Megatron huffed. "Cowards."

Hawkmoon said nothing. She merely watched and waited.

Maniikan, who held authority over the local Taishibethi forces, chided the outspoken admiral and called for peace. Ultra Magnus demanded the same of the Camiens. The chatter died down, a small Stratocratic serpent started an awkward speech on the merits of cooperation, when the Prince Avion resignedly cut in.

"We'll do it."

"Do what?" Ultra Magnus demanded, irritated. He was a mech of order and this chaos left him on edge, much to her petty delight.

"My Seekers will warp to Sancta. We'll locate and destroy the Drezhari sensors."

"You'll face extreme resistance," Fortress Maximus reminded him. "There's no certainty the sensors will be in easy reach."

"They have to be. If the Drezhari want to keep the entire system under watch, they'll have buoys scattered throughout the void."

"Destroying any particular set will defeat the purpose of bridging in. They'll know where we're coming in."

"Not if we destroy as many as we can, disrupt their network in every direction."

Fortress Maximus paused. "I see."

"Why does that matter?" Orion inquired.

Hawkmoon grimaced. "Avion's proposing they remain in Sancta until either the Drezhari kill them all or we arrive to relieve them."

"That's..." Orion trailed off. "But why?"

"Because if the Drezhari know where the fleet's coming from they'll cut us off. If they don't we have the chance to flank them. All we need is to wedge a couple of battleplates into low orbit and we can send runners to the ground. A siege always favours the defender; we do this proper, we pull that advantage right out from under them."

"But the price..."

"Not for us to decide, Pax."

"This proposal is acceptable," Maniikan chittered. He tilted his head, listening to someone else. "The Arch-Admiral advises me to allocate fold-fighters to defend your Seeker-units."

The Prince Avion audibly vented. "We'll take it."

One of the Akildn started laughing. "Should we send our flyers too?"

Another snapped at ver, "Our flight-craft won't change a thing. We're already contributing towards the kill-team."

"Speaking of which..." Fortress Maximus rumbled. "Emirate, are you listening?"

Hawkmoon gestured for the others to shut up and ordered Soundwave to take them off mute. "Yes sir."

"The Revenant will be in the first wave through the bridge. You'll be joined by the Gorgon, the Fatal Consequence, and the Heretic to cover your approach to Core-1. From there, your team will disembark to find and destroy both Greshar and the Hellsong. You will be accompanied by both the Titan Carcer and your Akildn cohorts. Each of these units will be under orders to keep you and yours safe."

"We don't know where they are, sir." Hawkmoon recalled Airachnid's offer. "But we might know how to get that information."

"Exequy and Abyssus will cut off aerial opposition during your descent," Maniikan added. "The Draconarius will not go without adequate support. Is this amenable to the steel-wrought?"

"This tact is logical," Shockwave droned.

"Then it's settled," Fortress Maximus rumbled. "Avion, prepare your armada. You launch within the joor. Everyone else - get ready."

Their Akildn support came with Camiens from Carcer. They arrived near enough the same time, at the same hangar, with Soundwave and Deadlock sorting through each person - five Camiens, ostensibly to help Hawkmoon coordinate with Carcer on the ground, but more likely to insure they actually killed Greshar. Their designations were Javelin, Velocity and Novastar, along with Windblade and Chromia. Hawkmoon met with them only when her mecha were sure they were clean.

Velocity was their commanding officer and built like a racer, all sleek blue plating and a cone-shaped helm. Javelin was smaller and of size with Airachnid but bereft of all save the barest of armour. Her helm pulled low over her faceplates and she bore only a single large optic, custom-built to link up with her own Stygian. Novastar, the last, was as large as Megatron and herself, red and silver and hefting a warhammer worthy of a Sunbreaker. She was a triple-changer capable of both driving and flying, and the rear of her helm and her thrusters produced steady flames in the impression of a great mane of hair.

Velocity saluted. Javelin nodded. Novastar grinned and said, "Hey."

Hawkmoon raised a ridge. "Welcome to the Revenant," she told them. "Soundwave's assigned you rooms. Find 'em, set yourselves up and get comfortable. You're free to roam everywhere but the armoury, the core and groundbridge control. Got that?"

Windblade and Chromia waited for the other Camiens to move on. "Emirate," Windblade greeted. Chromia nodded solemnly.

"Last I recall," Hawkmoon murmured, looking at them, "Astraea was Carcer's cityspeaker."

"We're not here for Carcer," Chromia said stiffly. "We're here for the other Titans. The ones the Drezhari took."

"The Mistress of Flame bade us to guide them back home," Windblade explained. "If your forces are the first to reach the ground, we're to drop with you."

Hawkmoon nodded slowly. "There's no promise they're still alive."

Chromia's field twisted, though her features remained schooled. "We know."

Windblade winced. "In that case... we help you avenge them."

"I see." Hawkmoon gestured down the hallway behind her. "Hope you find the Revenant to your liking."

Chromia marched past, but Windblade lingered. When the former stopped, a frown on her faceplates, Windblade ushered her on. "I'll be fine," she said. "I just want to talk. If that's alright?"

"She's good." Hawkmoon said with a nod. Blackout and Airachnid were close by, close enough to intervene if there was trouble, but she doubted anything like that would happen.

"Very well." Chromia shot Hawkmoon a suspicious look before leaving. Windblade watched her go until she disappeared from view, then released a deep vent.

"Finally," she muttered.

Hawkmoon quirked her helm. "Thought you two were joined at the hip?"

"What- Oh." Windblade straightened self-consciously. "It's... complicated."

"She's your bodyguard. Seems pretty straight-forward to me."

"It's not that..."

"'Blade. Why are you here?"

A pained look crossed Windblade's faceplates. "I told you-"

"And I know that's only half the truth. I was under the impression Cityspeakers were important to Caminus."

Windblade raised her optics. "So are Titans. And I failed mine."

Hawkmoon frowned. "The Radial Orator wasn't a Titan."

"Not exactly, no, but it was to be my honour to link with a non-Cybertronian super-entity. There..." Windblade hesitated. "There was an expectation. That, once its secrets became unlocked, the Radial Orator would allow us to siphon energy - perhaps even energon - back home."

"And... I destroyed that."

"I didn't stop you."

"...So they sent you to the warzone."

"I had a choice," Windblade said sharply. "It wasn't something forced on me."

"But you're here."

"I'm here. To save those Titans the Drezhari stole."

Hawkmoon pressed her lips. "What I said-"

"I know. I know their chances aren't... I know." Windblade vented again. "That's all I have to say on the matter, Hawkmoon."

"Alright." Hawkmoon turned back to the hangar. They waited together in solemn silence and watched as the Camien shuttle carefully pulled out past the atmospheric shielding and into the dark void.

The Akildn were next. Seven altogether, including Elulim, and they came with mortal Eimin-Tin to carry their baggage. The Revenant didn't have things like mattresses or organic food or even a safe water supply. The internal atmosphere was being carefully moderated by Soundwave such that the Akildn could breathe, when otherwise it would've filled with whatever gas was cheapest. They were, however, far easier to screen. Unlike Cybertronians the Eimin-Tin lacked the software Greshar so enjoyed hacking into. They behaved during the entire process too; they were soldiers, from first breath to last. They understood what was at stake.

It wasn't like the Drezhari could hustle up a replacement Akildn anyways. Not when the Stratocracy was so careful with them.

Elulim was the first to be cleared. Deadlock brought ver over, leaving Soundwave to sort through the rest. "Hey," Hawkmoon said, feeling some of her anxiety ease. "Glad you could finally make it."

"'Moon," Elulim chittered. There was a warm glitter in veir eyes. "This is your ship?"

"The Revenant. She has her history but I only know the good bits."

"Being...?"

"She's good at hunting Quintessons. C'mon, I'll show you around."

Elulim fell in beside her. "Who are your friends?"

"Blackout and Airachnid. They're mine. Windblade here's from Caminus."

Blackout grunted and Windblade waved shyly. Airachnid looked at Elulim and then Hawkmoon curiously. Hawkmoon met her gaze with a quirked ridge.

"You Cybertronians always have such fantastic names," Elulim mused. Ve motioned for veir underlings to keep up. "Can I send my staff onwards to furnish my quarters?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." Hawkmoon nodded to Blackout. "Would you stay and make sure 'Wave points them the right way?"

"Ma'am." Blackout bowed and stepped away.

She vented. "I keep telling them to use my designation."

"Oh woe is you." Elulim nudged her.

"Don't you start."

They moved on. Airachnid was unusually quiet, though her EM field remained steady. Deadlock was the opposite - pleased to engage, even drawing the reluctant Windblade out of her shell. Elulim carried most of the conversation besides; ve was a chatterbox when prompted, so eager to open up.

"You live on raised plateaus?" the Camien quizzically asked.

Elulim bared veir teeth in a smile. It made Windblade flinch but ve didn't notice. "Most on Penchant do. We are the city-born. Those who persevere in the Undergrowth are the ferals, the old clans. If not for the plateaus, we never would have reached the stars. The forest would never have allowed it."

"The trees there are... mobile," Hawkmoon explained. "And highly predatory."

"Sounds lovely," Deadlock drawled. "Are they dangerous?"

"They almost killed us when we went under. Several times at that."

Elulim chuffed. "You say it like it was a chore."

Hawkmoon spared her a dubious look. "The Undergrowth's one of the worst places I've ever been. No, 'Lulim, I did not enjoy the experience. But," she vented, "I suppose the rest of Penchant was just lovely."

Elulim cackled. "I enjoyed it."

"Didn't seem like it to me."

"In retrospect."

"Oh, of course. Nevermind all the Akildn that died."

"One can only savour life when they flirt with death. This is our way."

"Not sure the Stratocracy agrees." Hawkmoon could feel Windblade's dismay, Airachnid's faint amusement, but Deadlock - oh Deadlock was entranced. His field surged with eager interest; he probably wasn't aware of how strongly he was broadcasting it.

"I'd like to visit," he said rather quietly. "One day."

Elulim flashed him a triumphant look. "See, Seeker? He understands."

"He's from Polihex," Hawkmoon deadpanned. "His backyard is the Sea of Rust. The Undergrowth's positively a paradise in comparison."

They climbed up the decks, from hangar to bridge to officer's floor, and finally to the place Tarn had set aside for the organics. The nearest washracks had been cleaned of the usual solvent and replaced with filtered water that couldn't under any circumstances be drunk. Despite their efforts much of what the Eimin-Tin needed had to be ported over with them - cryocontainers for food and hormone solutions for the Akildn in particular (Hawkmoon had no idea what for, only that it was necessary), heating pads in case the temperatures dropped, spare air tanks if the atmospheric filters broke, cushions and rags to spare them bunking on hard metal.

Hawkmoon pointed out Elulim's room, which was close to an active elevator leading to the bridge and hangar deck both, and then she led them to the mess hall to finish up. "You're under no pressure to take your meals here," Hawkmoon said. "And, let's face it, the smell of energon will probably put you off, but here's where we sup in any case."

Elulim sat at the closest table and looked around. "Very... large," ve said.

"Revenant's built to house a much bigger crew." Hawkmoon settled opposite her, the others following suite. "Up to two, nearly three hundred mecha?"

Elulim considered that. "It does not sound like a lot... if you were not Cybertronians."

That Hawkmoon could understand. Each Cybertronian, no matter the frame, was a massive weapons platform of considerable firepower and surprising mobility. It was like packing together a Cabal legion exclusively out of Colossi. At some point it reached overkill.

"Oh, hey fellas." Hawkmoon blinked as a small mech suddenly appeared by her elbow and slid in beside her. Jazz grinned and tipped his helm dramatically. "Emirate."

Deadlock lost his smile in an instant and proceeded to glare daggers across the table. "Little busy, mech."

Jazz's grin only widened.

"Jazz," Hawkmoon warned.

He glanced at her again. "'Sup?"

Airachnid laughed.

"Who is this one?" Elulim questioned. "He was on the Rend, no?"

"You remembered me?" Jazz's visor brightened. "Ain't that sweet. Yer... Elulim, right? Yer friends with her Seekerness here."

"Please never call me that," Hawkmoon muttered. She considered picking him up and tossing him out the door. The mech was shorter than Airachnid with none of the extra attachments. It would've been easy. "Won't tell you twice."

Elulim tilted veir head and looked Hawkmoon's way.

"He's... audacious," she eventually explained. "Fragger snuck onto the fleet."

"Snuck?"

"Lied his way all the way to the Rend," Deadlock said. "His mistake was to catch Soundwave's attention."

Jazz huffed. "Funny guy, but he needs to take a break."

"I still can't believe you let him on-board," Deadlock complained, ignoring him. "Could've left him and told no one-"

"Nah, I think he deserves this." Hawkmoon felt Jazz's gaze on her. "Mech wants a front row seat, he'll get it."

Jazz chuckled. "You jus' think I'm funny."

"We'll see how long that lasts." Hawkmoon looked down at him. "Haven't seen much of you since."

"Yeah, well, yer walkin'-talkin' flatscreen wanted to run me through a couple o' things."

"My... what?"

"'Wavey."

Hawkmoon briefly offlined her optics. "Right. Okay. Maybe a lil' too funny."

"I'll rein it in," Jazz happily amended. He switched targets. "So... who're your other friends?"

"Windblade." Windblade politely bowed her helm. She tried smiling but it didn't stick - not that Jazz seemed to mind.

Airachnid crossed her servos, digits clicking over one another. "Airachnid," she said, somehow both dangerously cold and sensually demure. "I've heard all about you."

Jazz made a motion with his arm that Hawkmoon recognized as an upper-Iacon greeting. Orion used it often. "Only good things I hope."

Airachnid's smile was all teeth. "Naturally."

"Where are you from?" Windblade asked a little too quickly. She tossed Airachnid an uneasy glance.

Jazz shrugged. "Underside of Iacon. Prob' not somewhere ya'll been. Other than this guy right here." He looked pointedly at Deadlock. "Never stayed long, though, right?"

Deadlock's faceplates settled. He vented deeply. "Not if I can help it. Iacon's too... ashamed of itself."

"That's fightin' talk, that is."

"There's a room for that," Hawkmoon told them with mild amusement. "Couple of decks down."

Jazz made a show of looking Deadlock over. "I dunno, this mech here seems the mean sort."

"Now's not the time," Deadlock reluctantly agreed. "We're due to launch soon. Wouldn't want to leave ya berth-ridden."

Elulim clacked veir jaws excitedly. "Now make fun of his wheels."

Jazz cocked his helm. "Uh... he has wheels too."

"He does?"

Deadlock turned his chassis around to show the wheels on his back.

"Oh. I thought you were a flier."

"Not... quite," Deadlock replied, his smile wavering.

Elulim's gaze swept away. "I thought those who fly are the war-castes?"

"Not always," Hawkmoon said softly. "We're just the quickest to arrive."

"How many Seekers have you aboard?"

"Two. Three if you count this one." She nodded towards Windblade. "I wasn't exactly recruiting from a homogenous garrison."

"She hates Functionism, that's why," Jazz cheerfully explained.

Hawkmoon's helm twisted around. "I will throw you out the airlock."

"Maybe she likes it a little."

"No, that's not- I don't like... fragging..." Hawkmoon vented. "You're starting to annoy me."

"He makes a good point," Airachnid coolly stated.

"Not you too. I'm not discussing Functionism. Stop it." Hawkmoon stood. "I need a break." When Deadlook began to rise, she waved him back down. "No, you stay. Need someone to keep an eye on things. 'Lulim, same thing goes for your people as the Camiens. Stay away from the armoury, the core and the hangar. It's not a trust issue, it's just..."

"It sounds like a trust issue," Elulim teased.

"Fine, yeah, it's a trust issue. But you've heard me so I'm not gonna repeat myself. Otherwise make yourselves at home." She stepped away.

"Wait." Elulim rose too.

"Hm?"

"I said wait, Seeker." Elulim reached to one of veir suit's pouches and procured... something. A little doohickey. It looked like a cute little radio, the kinds ancient humanity used to truck around before they put computers in their brains. "An emissary of the Remnant tasked me to give you this."

Hawkmoon frowned. "Did you catch a name?"

"Berosk?"

"Don't know 'em."

Elulim huffed. "I believe they did so on behalf of their admiral."

"Maniikan?" Hawkmoon had the sudden paranoid suspicion that maybe, just maybe, it might've been a trap by Cirino - but that wasn't just unlikely, it was ridiculous. Dislike did not an enemy make, nor would it have made strategic sense. Not when their people needed each other. She gingerly took it from ver and held it up for a closer inspection. "Odd." She looked it over as she left the hall, a little puzzled, the rapid tap-tap-tap of clawed legs reached her audials.

"May I?" Airachnid easily caught up, looking at the radio with such naked yearning that was a little disconcerting. She waited patiently until Hawkmoon lowered it down for her. "It's alien."

"Well yeah-"

"But it looks..." She tilted her head quizzically. Airachnid traced a claw along its side. "Here. It has sync-ports."

"For...?"

"Wiring into a Cybertronian's communications system. I don't recognize the transceiver system."

Hawkmoon opened the comms relay in her chassis and looked at Airachnid expectantly. She huffed. "I would prefer the chance to study it first."

"It's safe."

"How can you know?"

"Because the handiwork's Tai."

"And?"

"Most of them like me." Hawkmoon raised a ridge. "Unless you think it could be packing malware?"

Airachnid gazed at it longingly. "... No. Not through a comms system. That's where a majority of our firewalls reside."

"Good." Hawkmoon began wiring it in.

"Let me." Airachnid pressed in close without even waiting for a reply, her digits catching on Hawkmoon's cables far more deftly. It wasn't flirtatious, it wasn't sensual - Hawkmoon had to withhold a chuckle as she impatiently rushed through the process.

A new sensation buzzed through her processor when it finally connected. Airachnid carefully slotted it into Hawkmoon's chassis, snared by the realisation of what she'd done and refusing to meet her optics, and finally closed the panel over.

When she finally raised her helm, Hawkmoon looked straight back.

"Well?" Airachnid scowled.

"I think... we may need to talk," Hawkmoon said slowly. The cheer left her, replaced with the somber reminder of mistake, mistake, mistake.

Airachnid didn't outwardly react in the slightest. "Do you?"

"...Or maybe not." That was as much a resolution as any, she supposed, though she would've been grateful for the chance to explain it. Would've made her feel less like an ass. With a solemn nod Hawkmoon looked away, aching for an excuse to get away and finding... nothing. "Nothing's off with it."

"Have you tried-"

"Activating now." Hawkmoon offlined her optics and focused on the internal feeling of the radio. It buzzed strangely, with an air of otherness, until gradually a semblance of familiarity began to set in accompanied by a faint buzzing near her spark. It felt like her own radio system, just... narrower? There was a single contact and, seeing as she had no other option, Hawkmoon activated the line. :Hello?:

For a few moments nothing happened. She wondered if there was something wrong, maybe it was dropped on the way, when a soft ping of an incoming message reached her. Characters both familiar and half-forgotten lathered across the top of her HUD. English-Hawar. Not Cybertronian glyphic, not Taishibethi script, nor even Eimin-Tin dash-work.

:Finally: it said. :Do you read?:

Hawkmoon realised her initial reply was in Tai runic and quickly amended that. :Hello. Adria?:

:Yes.:

:I read you.:

:Good.:

:How'd you manage this?:

:Praedyth made it.:

That... didn't surprise her as much as it should've. :He's resourceful. Is this line secure?:

:Yes but Oroses is aware we're connected with you.:

"Well?"

"It works," Hawkmoon admitted.

Airachnid inched forward.

"But-" Hawkmoon raised a servo "-it's private."

"I don't care what you're talking about, I need to know-" Airachnid caught herself. With a shiver of her jaw she tensed and bowed. "I... apologise. I'd like to know how it operates, that's all."

Hawkmoon regarded her blankly. With a sigh she turned away and messaged, :How are we communicating? Where are you?:

:Near the Divide. I don't know where. One of the Taishibethi showed me a map but I don't know these stars. I don't know how this works either. I'm asking Praedyth and he says it's a sub-dimensional superliminal tachyonic databeam.:

:What?:

:It's a magic fax machine. I'm faxing you. You're being faxed.:

:Funny.:

:Now he's making up words. Yours is the prototype. He's making more condensed versions for the Ishtar teams. Oroses wants him to design some for the Taishibethi as well. That's all I know.:

:Good. The more useful you two are, the better standing we have with the Remnant.:

:I remember.:

Hawkmoon felt Airachnid's field flare. She wasn't happy to be ignored. :I'll have to cut this short, there are mecha waiting on me. We'll be striking the Drezhari soon.:

:Wait.:

:Adria?:

:I need to ask you something.:

:Go ahead.:

:Do you dream?:

Her tanks churned. :What do you mean?:

:Do you see her too?:

Hawkmoon's servos closed to fists. "I..." she croaked. "I'll speak with you later, spider."

Airachnid's optics narrowed.

"Promise. Just... give it time." Hawkmoon didn't wait for a response. She turned and left, the red hot rage roaring in her audioreceptors. ::Adria, I need you to tell me everything.::

She found Invicta waiting, sat on the hull of a scuttled ship overlooking a shattered world. The bones of something massive coiled around the broken planet, ribs pressed into continents and long-dried seas. Its skull hovered over the horizon - impossibly massive, irrefutably terrifying.

"So rests Leren," Invicta hummed. "Last of the dragon-fathers."

Hawkmoon paused and gave the bones a once-over. They were blackened and warped with heat. Some scales still clung to the carcass, osteoderms the size of nations fixed along the spine. Smoke still oozed from its eye sockets. Calcified tendons clung to its snake-like jaws. Shreds of fossilized meat hung from between its ribs.

It was dead. Beyond all suspicion it was well and truly dead.

Pale hair fluttered in the abyssal winds. Hawkmoon had the passing thought to pull it, to bare the woman's throat and lay it open. But that-

"-is ill-advised," Invicta finished. She didn't so much as turn around.

Hawkmoon glowered.

"You carry your thoughts openly, unlike your words. Share them. Please."

"Fuck you."

Invicta's head bobbed. "What else?"

"No, stop this bullshit, you fucking... you scum-sucking, black-hearted bitch!" Hawkmoon stormed up and drew the Nullblade. "Damn you! DAMN YOU! Have you no fucking decency?!"

Invicta looked up at her, mask as blank as ever. "She will be useful."

"Fuck no! Stop talking with her, stop invading her dreams, stop using her!" Hawkmoon jabbed a digit at her shoulder. It... crackled. Like glass shattering into a thousand shards only to piece itself together. The ugly sound broke her tirade and sent her staggering back; this was wrong. This was wrong.

"You elected to ignore me," Invicta said calmly. She stood and towered over Hawkmoon. "Do recall my first approach was to ask you. Pain was my second recourse only, her involvement my third. But if your reticence holds firm, feel free to test me again."

If she were still human Hawkmoon would've been blinking back furious tears. "Fuck. You."

"Know I do not draw joy from this."

"Like that fucking matters-"

"It does. In every way." Invicta twisted her hand. Red string fluttered between her fingers. "Limbo is not a misnomer. It is his realm. He waits for you there."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Greshar's realm. The very same the Master gifted to him." Invicta swept her arm through the air. A shadow crossed the sight of the world, of the dead Ahamkara-

Hawkmoon's spark thundered. She couldn't- She didn't- Why-

What?

A ship cut through the un-space beyond. It was as large as a Cybertronian city but Dark. So, so, so very Dark. No light. No life. Nothing but an obsidian arrowhead broken from the shaft.

"You serve them," Hawkmoon whispered, horror mounting high.

It was the same ship she'd shattered over Tai Prime. The same Oryx waited for. The same-

The same that ordered the Hive to kill everything.

It was the Deep itself.

It was here.

"The Eviternity," Invicta intoned, the words reverberating through Hawkmoon's processor. "Mine. Mine to guide. Mine to rule. Mine, forever. Not theirs, little one. Never again."

"You... you're helping them-" Hawkmoon's voice faltered. String, as red as blood, coiled noose-tight around her neck and hefted her into the air.

"No more," Invicta whispered, turning back to her. The string slithered from her fingers like puppet-wire. "Not now, not ever. Not so long as Light beats in my heart. Not while they still hold my mother."

The string released. Hawkmmon collapsed with a grunt - and she stayed there, sullenly glaring at the ground, hands and knees braced against the rusted hull.

"She reached out to me first. Your sister-self."

Adria. Lost and angry and precious. "Leave her alone," Hawkmoon growled. "She's not like me."

"No. She's not."

"So leave her-"

"The decision is hers to make. Not yours."

Hawkmoon raised her helm. "Please. She's not a part of this."

Invicta quirked her head. "No?"

"She deserves better."

"So you say. Rise, Seeker."

Hawkmoon reluctantly climbed to her pedes.

"Good." Invicta's hand - so cold, so glassy, so full of Darkness - dipped beneath her chin and forced her to look up. Chilled fingers tightened on the sides of her helm. "Her faith is her wish, but I will not press her. On the condition you take up the purpose I have carved for you."

"To kill Greshar," Hawkmoon whispered.

"The angel is just the beginning." Invicta leaned in close. "There is no time to nurture your talents. The understanding I shall impart directly." A... a puddle formed on her mask. Rich black liquid spilled out from beneath the porcelain surface, growing, reaching.

Hawkmoon struggled. She caught Invicta's wrist and tried to twist it away but she was too strong, too powerful, she was pressing in as if for a kiss- and the pitch-black solvent captured her. Her vision faded, her processor was doused in ice, her spark screamed.

/ALERT: UNAUTHORISED ACCESS TO NEURAL PORTS/
/IMMUNE SYSTEM: UNRESPONSIVE/

Ideas. Meanings. Sightless, soundless, full of feeling. An understanding beyond sense. The premise of a shape.

/EJECT EJECT EJECT/
/ERROR: UNAUTHORISED DATAFILES DETECTED/

Release.

Hawkmoon fell spluttering on her back, the awful feeling of Darkness worming its way through her chassis. She clawed at herself, crying out, all while Invicta looked down on her. Waiting. Waiting. FUCKING WAITING!

She had to leave. Had to go. She scurried back, found her footing-

And fell through the ship's hull. Hawkmoon reached out, hoping to grab something, but matter phased through her- no, she phased through matter. Deck after deck passed her by, then open vacuum yawned below. Out into the dark she plummeted, into the abyss, the Deep, the shadows that once held the pyramid. Down, down, down.

Down into the Dark.

She screamed and fought it, lashing with claws and Nullblade, firing at the gloom. Her thrusters roared and wings spread wide, but there was no traction. Nothing to work against. Just... oblivion.

Limbo.

With that realisation a flare of red began to consolidate beneath her. The angel himself rose on crimson winds, his flames dancing with anticipation.

"No," Hawkmoon whimpered. Her pain blockers were inactive. She'd feel everything. "No, no, NO!"

The shadow laughed-

Until it was gone. Until the abyss was replaced with a rusted hull - and Invicta hummed appreciatively. "Very good."

Hawkmoon looked at her servos. They... they were shifting. Ghostly one moment, solid the next. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing. This is your doing alone." Invicta knelt before her. "But you're not finished."

The red shadow rose up behind her, bathing them in its false-fire. Greshar laughed and Hawkmoon, knowing that laugh, knowing what would follow, roared and stormed to her pedes once more, willing him to shut up, to leave, to die. Her will became action, and that action... solidified as a golden spear in her hand. She threw it because that was all that was left to her. She fired it up through his chest and watched, transfixed, as it ran him through.

Greshar staggered. His fires flickered with uncertainty. The mists of his form began to dissipate.

"Again," Invicta whispered, hovering behind her. "Keep going."

There were other spears and not enough time to make sense of any of it. Hawkmoon threw them all, skewering Greshar through - until it reached such a point he resembled a porcupine. There was more power in that, more of her power. Gilded chains, as ethereal as her own frame was, linked between her servos and the shadow. Hawkmoon closed her digits and tugged. Greshar collapsed before her, snarling with indignation.

"Kill him."

Hawkmoon readied her Nullblade and ran Greshar through... but he did not die.

"Not quite," Invicta sighed. Hawkmoon felt her touch, invasive and painful reaching through her chassis, bending metal and bio-mechanisms in search of something. She found it quickly, but the agony didn't end there. She took one of Hawkmoon's arms and pressed something over the top of her wrist, warping steel to stone, mortal shell to divine implement.

"There," she said, releasing her.

Hawkmoon looked down at the weapon. It was the very one she'd found in the Garden. The one she'd given to Praedyth to investigate. The one Augur had stolen back for her.

The one the Vex had fought and died to protect.

The grafting was perfect. It was twinned to her weapons configurations, now and forever a part of her. Undeniable. Inescapable. Inexcusable.

"Now you may kill him."

Hawkmoon found her footing despite it all and she fired. A cage of other-light closed around Greshar's core, condensing the soul of his being to one singular spot. A God-bane. Her grip firm, her fury paramount, Hawkmoon thrust again - and this time the angel's incensed shouts shifted to a scream.

Until it stopped. Until the shadow faded. Until the pain left her and Hawkmoon wobbled uncertainly in the sudden gulf of silence. She turned to Invicta. Invicta stared back.

"I'll never forgive you," Hawkmoon said, understanding at last what Invicta had done. "Never."

Invicta regarded her solemnly. "I know."

"You don't care."

"I do, little one. More than you can imagine."

Hawkmoon vented. She looked away. "Am I ready now?"

"For the angel? Perhaps." Invicta stepped back. "I've played my part. Now it's time for you to play yours, o wraith mine."

Other-space collapsed around them. The last thing Hawkmoon saw was Invicta worrying at her own length of string-

-just as realspace caught her. She landed in her room, alone. No Augur. No Rook. No one. Hawkmoon collapsed to her knees and cried. She was, at long last, a Guardian no longer. After all, Guardians were reforged in the Light - but the Light no longer defined her. Even bereft of its benevolent touch, she'd never felt so... empty. So lost. So wrong.

Because in its place, where once the Traveler had laid all its love, lurked nothing but the Dark.

She experimented. Ikharos would have been proud of her. She broke so many things. Jaxson would have applauded. She ran herself ragged. Gecko would have worried incessantly. But she finally had a name for it. If the Hive wielded Soulfire, if the angel bathed himself in delirious flame, then she had her own particular brand of Darkness.

Hawkmoon named it Recurrence.

It was built for her - or she was built for it. In many ways it was as unique as any other element of Light or strain of Dark. Void was oblivion, Solar was heat, Arc was friction, Soulfire was murder, Taking was domination, Delirium was fixation. Recurrence was nothing more than that irreverent desire to break reality's most basic tenet over one's knee: time itself. Recurrence was... defiance.

Of all its myriad forms, the first Hawkmoon discovered she decided to call Lockstep, wherein her form grew thin and sparse. Not quite invisible, no, but not quite there either. Irrespective of the materials she interacted with, Hawkmoon found she could shift through solid matter. It was as if her atoms were vibrating out of order, linked together only by way of paracausal bonds and thus able to slip through her surroundings entirely at a whim. It had the added property of leaving her with the appearance of being cast in a glass pane, and when it began to show extreme signs of cracking was when the Lockstep was almost out of juice.

The next was Repetition, the very force that pulled her out of the abyss and back to Invicta. She experimented by throwing a blade - and watched as the knife stopped in the air and returned to her servo. She could move herself, any object she carried, and, if she concentrated, any object within view, though it stressed her Dark-stained spark. What was more, she could condense Repetition-energies around herself, working it into the Solar-energy shield the Taishibethi had installed so long ago. She hoped it would have the benefit of sending projectiles back from whence they came. It left a soft shimmer around her not unlike a summer mirage.

The final facet was the golden light that took the shape of spears and chains, which she named Anchors. They were... less malleable, more given to destructive tendencies. The Anchors, once planted into a solid surface, disrupted the surrounding area on what appeared to be a molecular level. She all but melted the panels of one of the walls trying it out, straight down to the cables and wires. The use of chains was nothing more than a medium through which to exert her own will, to pull or twist or swing the anchors as she desired. When the spears were fed to an appropriate amount, they retreated back down the chains and diffused into her frame. Her spark surged every time - one part with fear, the other with physical relief. The sensation was impossible to describe. Hawkmoon worried she enjoyed it too much.

Of the weapon she experimented once and only once. Hawkmoon, against her better judgement, aimed it at herself - and soon sorely wished she hadn't. The pain was soulful. It chafed on her being, pruning her down to her spark. With gasp she cut the glassy beam off and braced against her berth. She had to know it still worked. Had to know what it did.

Had to know if she would survive it.

Most disconcertingly, when Hawkmoon willed it it disassembled and merged with the rest of her anatomy. There was little sign of the ugly graft where Vex stone met Cybertronian alloy when she did so, which was the only silver lining she could find. Regardless of its effectiveness, regardless of the opportunity it gave her, it was wrong.

Invicta was wrong for forcing it on her. For forcing all of it on her. It should've been willing. It should've been a choice.

Hawkmoon collapsed on the edge of her berth and vented hard. The light of her cabin flickered; she might've been overzealous in the practical. "Alright," she said, trying to pretend it was to herself. "Alright."

"Is it?"

She hardly blinked as Augur jumped up to sit next to her. "How much did you see?"

"Enough." His voice was soft. Gentle. Full of guilt. "I never thought she would be so rough."

Hawkmoon's armour tightened. A nervous tick. One she was picking up fast from watching other Cybertronians. "Yeah you did."

"...I never wanted her to hurt you." Augur pressed his head against her arm. "I-"

"Do you regret it?"

"Hawkmoon?"

"Do you regret involving her?"

"She was already involved."

"Augur."

"I... I don't regret doing what needs to be done," he admitted. "We know the stakes. I only wish we didn't have to cross so many lines to do so."

"You could at least say 'I'm sorry.'"

"Hawkmoon..."

"For using me. For leaving me to her. For tricking me into thinking we were ever friends. To think you always call me out on my pride when you can't seem to let yours g-"

"I'm sorry."

Hawkmoon flinched. She waited.

"I'm sorry that I left you ignorant of the egg," Augur said, his tone blank. For her that was telling enough. It wasn't natural to show weakness. Not for either of them. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from the Varanid. But I won't apologise for our... friendship. If you think it a lie, then we've both been deceived."

"... Was that so hard?"

"Yes."

She snorted. "At least you can admit it. Are all Verunlix allergic to feelings or is it just you?"

"I... have been described as... ruthless before," Augur begrudgingly admitted. "But we aren't like your kind. Our transition to the crystal prisons took that from us. We learned to keep our moral quandaries to ourselves."

Hawkmoon laid down, wings flat against her back. "Now look at you. You're almost considerate."

"Almost."

"Augur."

"Yes, Hawkmoon?"

Hawkmoon stared up at the ceiling. "Why the Dark? Why... just why?"

"Because it does not wait on a god's ephemeral favour." Augur nudged her servo. "It's everywhere, in everything. Would you consider evolution evil?"

"It got us into this mess, so yeah."

"We both know you're no defeatist."

"Evolution is... complicated," Hawkmoon said at length. "I don't know. I'm not a Warlock, but nature's mean. Doesn't mean we have to be."

"So there you are."

"But what does evolution have to do with it?"

"Because it is where this power stems from. Because we are born with it, because our monocellular ancestors decided to eat their neighbours to steal their nutrients. That is the Deep, the Dark, the Truth." Augur paused. "Consciousness is complicated. Sapience even more so. We are doused in it, from our first breath to our last. It's closer. It's easier. If we chased the Wayfarer Moon on the slim chance it would reward us the means to fight back, many would die in the meantime. Do you think that a worthy price?"

Hawkmoon took a moment to answer. "No."

"There you have it."

"But... if we did. If we did start looking for the Traveler, would you have joined me?"

"Of course."

"Even if-"

"Even if Cybertron and a hundred other worlds fell, yes. All this, Hawkmoon, is for you and you alone. If you decide now to take the Remnant and flee further along the galactic arm, I would support you the entire way."

"But-"

"But trillions would perish, yes." Augur sighed. "I... have seen the Tenerjiin rampage across the stars. The Hive seek to follow their example. I have no desire to see so many die again but if it gives us a chance to stop them? I will not oppose you."

"I'm... I'm not going to do that," Hawkmoon said grimly.

"I know."

"Is this a bad idea?"

"Yes."

"Y'know, I'm looking for a little support, someone to amp me up-"

"Greshar will likely kill you. Even if you survive him, you will not be the same woman. This is your reckoning and I'm afraid we're too late to change it."

"Will you be there? When I confront Greshar?"

"I... will try," Augur said hesitantly. "I will be watching in any case."

Hawkmoon nodded. She shifted her servo, turning her palm up, and Augur crawled onto it, as weightless as a feather. "I don't forgive you, you know."

Augur said nothing.

"But I'll move on. Only if the lies stop here. If we work together, we have to be honest with one another. That's my condition."

"Dangerous."

"Augur, honey, you know how I feel about danger."

He huffed. "Only too well. Very well. If you want truth, I'll give you truth. Should we survive the Drezhari, I think both of us will come to regret it."

"Maybe, but that's future-me's problem."

Hawkmoon left her room equal parts mollified and bitter. The weight of the Dark hung heavy on her spark. Its power crackled between her digits, as potent as it was risky. It didn't rest as easily as the Light; instead of the flicker of butterflies perching on her synth-skin, she felt the sandpaper-feel of it scraping across her plating. The cold never once faded, not even after Invicta refined it, and it waited hand-in-hand with a dreadful kind of hunger. It wanted to be used. It needed to reach beyond her frame and whet its appetite on the universe, on anyone and anything in reach.

She hated it, but there was nowhere for that hate to go so she simply buried it and moved on. Someone wiser might've said that was unhealthy - but they would've been a couple of centuries too fucking late.

Her first port of call was by the Revenant's core. It was there she found Airachnid supping energon on the ceiling, overlooking a mess of stolen Vehicon heads. She looked at Hawkmoon first with surprise, then with anticipation, all before she schooled her faceplates and crawled down. "Doll-"

"The transmitter's subdimensional," Hawkmoon told her. "From what I can tell it uses the same lanes as spacebridges, just drastically downsized. Delivery is all but instantaneous, though greater distances might make a difference."

Airachnid blinked. Her lips curled into a smile. "Fascinating."

"This one's personal, but if we make it out of Sancta I can put in a request for a chip for you."

"Oh?"

"It'll cost you."

"Ah." Airachnid sidled close. "In that case-"

Hawkmoon caught her servo before it could touch her helm. "Not like that. I'll say it this way, just so it sticks: I don't mix business and pleasure. Not like that."

Airachnid's many-faceted optics flashed with disappointment. "You're no fun."

"Gotta stand by my code, spider."

She laughed. "'Course you do. You're the honourable Emirate, after all. You have to keep appearances up."

"I don't give a flying scrap about my image."

Airachnid looked at her quizzically. "Regardless-"

"Regardless, I wanna keep our expectations honest, save us the grief of fantasy. What happens between us-"

"Is pleasure for its own sake.

Hawkmoon paused. "Exactly."

"Did it work you up that much you had to tell me?"

"Didn't want to lead you on."

"Oh please," Airachnid scoffed. "All that matters is the Work. Everything else - it's just a passing thrill."

"What work would that be?"

"Progress. Understanding. The secrets of fate and consciousness laid bare. To understand intimately the reason we are alive. That is the Work."

Hawkmoon raised a ridge. "Feels like you're in the wrong business for philosophy?"

"I consider it in the realm of metaphysics myself." Airachnid stepped away. "Science is a history of risks taken and results accrued. If I must place myself on the frontline to advance my understanding, so be it."

"Got it."

"I hope so, doll. I really do." She took up something that looked conspicuously like an Eimin-Tin dataslate. Wires trailed from its back to each Vehicon skull. "What's your price?"

"Your service."

"In what capacity?"

"A researcher. I've alien relics I want to know more about."

Airachnid looked at her sharply. "You should've started with that."

Hawkmoon shrugged. "Had to set the scene."

"Which relics?"

"We'll worry over that later."

Airachnid scowled. "Don't tease me, doll."

"Wouldn't dream of it, spider." Hawkmoon grinned.

She checked up on everyone else one by one, driven by the urge to know they were all safe and sound. The novelty of command was quickly wearing off; Hawkmoon already hated it. The stress of worrying over so many mecha, in addition to everything else, left her feeling particularly precarious. Even armed with the means to at least give Greshar a fight, the confidence just wasn't there. Not when she feared for more lives than her own.

The Camiens were next. They were... contentious. Some of them. The war wasn't just about survival to them; they fought for faith. For the righteousness of their Way of Flame. Hawkmoon found most of them - Velocity, Javelin, and Chromia - in the depths of the Revenant before a makeshift shrine to the Thirteen and left them to it. The other two were a few levels down on the engineering deck. Windblade saw her first and waved, leaning against the workstation, while Novastar shot her a grin. The latter was kneading out a slab of half-molten steel and beating it into shape with a gilded hammer. It bore the insignia of Solus Prime.

"Howdy," Novastar greeted.

"Whatcha makin'?" Hawkmoon queried.

"Dunno, but it's getting made."

"She's... a blacksmith," Windblade supplied, whispering even though Novastar could clearly hear her. "It's complicated."

Hawkmoon nodded slowly. "Okay."

"You got an order for me?" Novastar paused and propped the hammer against her shoulder. Her other warhammer rested in the far corner of the room alongside three others.

"Not... quite," Hawkmoon said distractedly. "You've settled in quick."

"It's a nice ship. Got everything we could ever need. Mecha could live here, full-time."

Windblade shot Novastar a look. Novastar stared back, as if daring her to say something.

"'Spose they could," Hawkmoon said slowly. "Just swung by to check everyone was alive."

"Velocity's still got her spark trained on a heroic last stand, Emirate. She wouldn't dream of dying, not with a battlefield still a couple joors away."

"I was joking."

"I'm not." But Novastar was still grinning. Her fiery mane flushed bright. "I'm excited. You excited?"

"No."

"That's fair. I'll be excited for you."

Hawkmoon snorted. "You're weird."

"Yep." Novastar brought the hammer down. Sparks showered over them. "Think I'm gonna make some knives. You like knives? You seem the sort."

"Love 'em."

"Let's fragging go. Knives coming right up."

Windblade mouthed 'I'm sorry.' Hawkmoon departed with a chuckle. The next bunch she checked on were the Eimin-Tin. The serfs, the mortals, were under orders to remain in or near the living quarters, but the Akildn had no such constraints. She found a majority of them in another room, prepping ammunition cells and cleaning down their armour. One of them chirped to her. Hawkmoon didn't stay long. Another level down she found Elulim and Deadlock at the other end of a hall - and turned around on the spot. She doubted they saw her, but she could've gone without seeing them too, what with Elulim's claws running through 'Lock's bared cables and his helm braced against veir shoulder.

The Glitched were next. Hawkmoon found them here and there, scattered through the ship. Wheeljack and the Camien twins were loading cannons near the armoury, and when she left she passed Crackdown, Mismatch and Conduit on the way to join them. At the medbay Contagion ran through a scan of Jazz's frame while Orion and Soundwave watched. Orion waved to her and Soundwave tilted his helm in acknowledgement, but the other two were none the wiser. Hawkmoon carried on to the command deck - and ran into Duststorm, who cheekily looped her arm around her own without a word and guided her to the bridge.

Megatron, Tarn, Cyclonus and Nightbird were waiting for her.

"Emirate," Tarn said. He had a new battlemask. It was in the shape of the symbol adorning Jazz's servo - her own battleplate meshed with the crest of Megatronus.

Her spark thrummed uncertainly. "What's with the new look?"

"A moment of passing inspiration," Tarn explained. He sounded like he was smiling. "If it unsettles you, I can change it-"

"Do as you will," Hawkmoon said with a shrug, though she couldn't help the twinge of uncertainty. She felt like something was happening, something she should've been in control over, but it was spiralling out of hand.

"It comes from Kaon," Megatron said. He leaned against the holotable, optics trained on the projection of the Sancta system. "Since your... visit, the common mecha have taken to appropriating our likenesses and wearing them as badges of honour."

"And the masters?"

Megatron glanced at her. His smile was shark-like. "I've no doubt they'd punish it if not for fear of your retribution."

"That's... wise." Hawkmoon grimaced. "They'll have it anyways."

"Oh?"

"Clench wasn't the only one." She considered the map, though her thoughts were far, far away. "If we survive Greshar... I'm going to clean things up. Should've been done a long time ago."

Megatron tensed - she saw it on the edge of her vision - but it only lasted a moment before he released a low vent. "Good. Good..."

"The matter of the Drezhari remains," Cyclonus cut in. His faceplates were drawn and optics narrowed. "This plan Fortress Maximus has in mind-"

"We don't have a clear image of what the Drezhari are up to," Duststorm interrupted. "We don't know what their defenses are like, their numbers, or even where our targets might be hiding. We'll be flying in blind."

"Exactly my point."

"What I think Duststom means," Tarn said gently, "is that trying to plan around as much carries its own risk. We've made as many preparations as we could knowing what little we do, but if we throw all our effort towards one tact or another..."

"Actually," Hawkmoon said, drawing everyone's optics. "My, ah... contacts abroad have relayed their own suspicions. It's likely-" a certainty "-that the Hellsong isn't a Drezhari construct at all, but a Quintesson form. So your theory-"

"We already knew that," Nightbird cut in.

Hawkmoon frowned. "That's not what you said to me."

"No. It's not."

"...So?"

"He's a Judge," Cyclonus reluctantly explained. "A Quintesson leader."

"And you haven't announced this to the fleet earlier because...?"

"Because most Cybertronians remain terrified of Quintessons. We've tried, Emirate, over the passing centavorns."

"We've been hunting him," Nightbird added. "And those like him. There's a cadre of Judges who survived the purges and are currently set on avenging their race by annihilating ours. We believe the Drezhari are one such means. I told you earlier they co-opted them from their original creators-"

"But Greshar isn't Quintesson."

Nightbird paused. She and Cyclonus shared a look. "We don't know that for sure."

"I do." Hawkmoon imagined taking a deep breath - a fantasy that was growing ever more faint with each passing orn - and clasped her servos behind her back. "My contacts are those aboard the Remnant, and Greshar has connections with the forces that destroyed their home across the Divide."

She had their attention now.

"I heard your interview," Tarn said warily. "You named them the Hive."

"They named themselves. And-" She paused, considering whether to tell them the entire truth... or just enough to impart why this was so important. Hawkmoon settled for the latter. "They had masters too. I saw them, before the end. Black ships unlike anything I've ever seen. I've crossed their agents a couple of times since - and in each case I've barely come out alive. I now know for a fact Greshar is... subservient to this... I don't know, force? Fleet? The Black Fleet. It's also suspected he might have one of these ships of his own, somewhere in Sancta. He calls it Limbo."

"Limbo," Duststorm murmured. "Didn't the Afflicted you fought in the senatorium-"

Hawkmoon nodded sharply. "It did."

"So... he wants you to find him?"

"Yes."

"Primus." Her optics dimmed.

Cyclonus was watching her. Scrutinising her. "They have an interest in you."

Hawkmoon saw no need to deny it. "I destroyed one of their black ships over Tai Prime. I've been giving them the slip ever since."

"The Acquiestical's faith is old. If Greshar is the basis for it, and they've been worshipping him all this time, that must mean-"

"He's been here. Waiting for the opportunity to strike."

"Why now?"

"Why not?" Hawkmoon vented and schooled her faceplates. "I imagine it's because they've finished up on the other side of the Divide."

"Finished what?"

"Why, killing everything."

Only Megatron didn't visibly balk.

"Primus," Duststorm said again.

"Greshar's purpose, so far as I can tell, is twofold," Hawkmoon continued. "He's building another army for the fleet to kickstart a second harvest as well as weakening our defences. If anything crosses the Divide with the intent of, y'know, razing and slaughtering everything that moves, they'll find us weakened. Hence why I'm rushing to kill him now."

Tarn hesitated. "Have you shared this with the senate?"

"I tried. Alpha Trion wasn't having it. 'Course, now I know it's because he's a fraggin' coward." Hawkmoon scowled. "Even with Drezhari on our doorstep he won't raise a fist."

"So we fight in his stead," Megatron rumbled.

"We fight because he can't be bothered."

"The Archivist is a pacifist," Tarn murmured. "He has a code-"

"Well, thanks to his code we face extinction," Hawkmoon sullenly retorted. "Look, we're here now, there's no helping it."

Cyclonus, and Nightbird with him, appeared reluctant to move on but he bowed his helm. "How do you intend to find Greshar, Emirate?"

"Airachnid. She's a mnemosurgeon. She suggested capturing a Drezhari construct and drawing Greshar's location from its database."

"Of course she did," Tarn muttered, if fondly. "I doubt most Drezhari will have that information."

Hawkmoon shrugged. "So we find one that does. All we need is a general location; the black ships have... an aura for want of a better word. If we're pointed in the vicinity I'll pick up on it."

"What about the Hellsong?" Nightbird pressed. "The Judge has to die-"

"Sure does. My sources tell me if we make it to Greshar the Hellsong will be close by."

"Who is your source?"

Alien demigod with a penchant for torture, Hawkmoon almost said. "It's complicated."

"I'll say." Nightbird and Cyclonus shared another look. "There's still the matter of reaching Limbo. Even if we tap a Drezhari processor, it could be on the other side of the planet."

"The Revenant will get us there." Hawkmoon paused. "I'm taking Soundwave ground-side. He's tapped into the Revenant's systems so in a worst case scenario, he can pilot it, but I'll need someone to stay on overwatch in the meantime."

Each of them looked at each other. "I'm no naval commander," Megatron begrudginly admitted, "and I want to fight. I'm going down with you."

Hawkmoon nodded. She'd assumed the same.

"Orion Pax is staying," Tarn said.

"Yeah, but he's not a soldier."

"I'll do it," Duststorm said. "If you're good with that."

"You sure?"

"Everyone else here is built to bruise. I'm a good shot but I don't think shooting is what you'll need down there."

"Then it's settled," Tarn sighed. "What about the aliens?"

"The Eimin-Tin?" Hawkmoon considered it. "Their servants will remain on-board as well. They ain't combatants. The Akildn are with us the whole way through."

"They have needs."

"They've packed."

"I see." Tarn nodded. "I have no more questions."

"Good. Anyone else?"

No one said a thing.

"Cool." Hawkmoon straightened - then stopped. "There's one more thing. The Vosian Weapons Division. We know they're involved and we might face 'em. Afflicted or plain traitor, doesn't matter. Kill them immediately. And... look. They smuggled something to the Drezhari. It's a spark."

"A spark?" Cyclonus echoed.

"Yeah, a living spark. If you see it or..." She vented and cabled into the projector, switching it to a mech's likeness. "If you see him, cut his spark out. Take it away. Lock it up."

Tarn blinked. "What is he? An Insecticon?"

"Something close."

"What's his designation?" Megatron quietly asked.

"Rampage," Hawkmoon replied. She hated even saying it. "He has history with the Black Fleet. If he's alive that needs to change, quickly. I crossed him on Penchant; Elulim can corroborate my story. He's a murderer and a liar and very, very dangerous. He has a... a regenerative property that leaves him very hard to kill. So... try, if you can. Maybe this time it'll stick."

"Very well." Megatron pushed away from the table. "Is that all?"

"That's all. Make your final preparations, settle your wills, whatever the frag you want. If the Prince Avion is successful we should be due to bridge in from anywhere to a couple of joors to an orn. Tarn, relay it to the crew."

"Your will be done."

Tarn bowed deeply before departing. The others slinked off one by one - Nightbird with her optics faint, Cyclonus with a grimace, Duststorm with a cocky smile and a wink, and Megatron... stopped beside her. Hawkmoon looked at him. He scrutinized her, ridges held low over his optics, before subtly nodding to himself. "You're serious about Kaon?"

"Deadly." Hawkmoon crossed her arms. "No offense, but what I did to Clench wasn't because of your reputation."

"No?"

"It was the reason Soundwave alerted me to it, but... no."

Megatron vented deeply. It almost sounded like a growl. "You didn't order Tarn to change his mask."

"You didn't either."

"I'm not his commander."

"Am I yours?"

Megatron smiled faintly. "On this mission."

"I know what Soundwave's doing. He agreed to dial it down."

"He's not the only one. Not anymore."

"Tarn warned me against it. Against you."

"Against freeing me?"

"No, he only officially joined after that. He warned me against being seen in public with you."

Megatron glanced towards the door. A pair of Vehicon guards flanked it, unmoving and unseeing. Hawkmoon could feel their EM fields but they were empty. Devoid of life. "You decided otherwise. Now so has he."

"I'm not a figurehead-"

"You've made yourself one."

"Yeah, I've heard." Hawkmoon huffed. "I'm not in the business of riling up civil unrest."

"But...?"

"But the more I see of Cybertron, the more I see Functionism as the real enemy. The planet is fragged. We're perpetually hanging on by a thread. If we don't profit from the Drezhari we're going to have a second famine. We've been too insular since... forever. Always snipping at each other, trying to climb up the social ladder atop the bodies of everyone else."

"Kaon has to change."

"Yeah."

"Then the other cities. The world."

Hawkmoon hesitated. "Vos is... better off than most. It's not perfect but it isn't bad. I don't want to burn everything to the ground. Just... a little change. Better change."

Megatron regarded her thoughtfully. "You never would have survived the pits."

She made a face. "What the frag am I supposed to say to that?"

"You're too considerate."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"In the pits, it would be."

"Not everything's an arena."

Megatron's optics flickered. "Maybe. We'll see."

"We'll see," Hawkmoon tiredly agreed. "So - this symbol-"

"I see no reason to ban it. Do you?"

"I don't particularly care. As long as mecha don't use it as an excuse."

"They won't. Not if we give it a worthy definition. It's our likeness, to do with as we wish."

Hawkmoon offlined her optics. "You've been talking to Soundwave."

"He's considerate too."

"I know. Too considerate."

"Not quite so much as Orion."

"No. No one's gonna match him." She smiled despite herself - if thinly - and onlined her optics again. "What do you propose we define it as?"

Megatron's optics twinkled. "The Primes called Functionism the necessary truth. We could answer it with a truth of our own making."

"What, Equalism?"

"It's a start."

"Well, Equalism's gotta wait." Hawkmoon stepped away. "Won't matter if we end up dead."

"I believe."

"That makes one of us." She offered him a lazy salute. "Make your peace while you can, 'cause there won't be any on the ground."

Hawkmoon left him there, the weight of it all finally pressing down on her. She knew, with abrupt certainty, that she was going to die. Whether to Greshar, the Hellsong or some other Drezhari monster, she was dead. And there was no helping it.

But first she had a call to make.

:How did it go?:

:Badly.:

:Hawkmoon? What happened?:

Hawkmoon stared out into the black beyond the hangar's shielding. :She gave me tools to see this through.:

:And?:

:I wasn't willing.:

Adria's next message took a little longer. :I'm sorry to hear that.:

:Wasn't fun.:

:Are you alright?:

No. No. A thousand times no. She was compromised, she was broken, she was the enemy itself, she was host to the worst kind of parasite- No, she was not alright. :I'm fine.:

:Good. If what she gave you helps, then maybe it's worth it.:

Never. :I hope so.: Hawkmoon leaned against the hangar wall. :We're headed in soon. To the Drezhari homeworld.:

:How soon is soon? Like a couple of hours or another of your oons.:

:Orns.:

:Those are the ones that take two weeks, right?:

:Yeah. I mean, maybe. We're just waiting at this point.:

:Hawkmoon.:

:Yeah?:

:Are you losing track of human time?:

Hawkmoon vented. :I noticed that too.:

:You've been doing a good job of ignoring it.:

:It's not the only thing I'm losing.:

:Like?:

:Like everything that used to hurt me. When I was an Exo.: Even now she could feel the closing pressure of a breath that would not come. It was like... realising the need to blink, suddenly they had to concentrate on it. The pain was only ever there when she remembered to be bothered by it. :But yeah, it's a little scary when you point it out.:

:Can you help it?:

:Not really. My processor's base programming is Cybertronian. My Exo files have overwritten everything else, just not that.:

:Do you think you're becoming someone else?:

:That's a scary thing to be asked.:

:But is it true?:

:No. This is me. I know it's me.:

:You're not like I am.:

:Death will do that.:

Another staggered reply. :That makes sense.:

Hawkmoon tapped her claws against her plate. :If I don't come out of this alive I want you and Praedyth to run. Take the Taishibethi with you if you can.:

:What about Cybertron?:

:If we lose then every Cybertronian could be a host for Greshar.:

:Understood.: Another message followed it up. :Don't die.:

:You know I hadn't considered that. That should make things easy.:

:Ha ha.:

:Look when this is finished and if everything ends well, I'm coming to get you. We'll make a new plan with Oroses and see about the Ishtar teams.:

:Don't make another promise you can't keep.:

:This one will stick. I swear it.:

:Good luck Moon.:

"Goodbye Adria," Hawkmoon whispered. She closed the channel and vented, hard.

AN: Massive thanks to Nomad Blue for tackling this monsters for me!

There's two parts to this. I intended it to be all one chapter, but it got really, really big and Nomad Blue basically begged me to split it up. I'll be posting the second part tomorrow I reckon.