Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Megatron leads Orion through the space bridge, still reeling from the realization moments ago when Optimus Prime called him by his old title- Megatronus. It only took a second for him to understand what had happened to Optimus, and without processing his actions fully, he lent Optimus his servo and covered his escape through a space bridge from Soundwave. They raced away from the stunned Auotbots and the haunting core of Unicron, to the safety of the Nemesis. Megatron was increasingly grateful for leaving the rest of his Decepticons aboard the Nemesis.

"Keep going!" Megatron directed, catching up to Opimus' pace. "Farther ahead we will find ourselves aboard my vessel, the Nemesis. I apologize in advance- my crew is not expecting visitors."

Optimus nodded and dutifully continued to follow the larger silver mech's lead. Eventually, they landed aboard the dark interior of the Nemesis, just above the hull. Megatron instinctively placed himself in front of his new ally in a protective stance. His servo stretched in front of Optimus as if signaling that it would be best to move behind him.

There were approximately 6 Vehicons on standby awaiting them in the Nemesis boarding room. As Megatron and Optimus landed with two loud thuds, the standby Vehicons appeared predictably stunned by Optimus' bright red and blue frame. They took only a moment to fixate their guns on Optimus before Megatron called out: "Stand down! This is not who you think it is. This is a friend- Orion Pax."
A few tense moments of confusion as the Vehicons glanced at each other, before tentatively lowering their weapons. Megatron turned to gaze down at the concerned face of Orion. "I apologize for this cold reception- there is a significant amount of catching up we need to do." He turned to the bridge and made contact with Soundwave via comms.

.:Prime has lost his memories, and believes himself to be Orion Pax before receiving the Matrix. I will explain the details later, for now we will welcome him and give him no reason to mistrust us:.

It took a few clicks, but Soundwave acknowledged his message with a simple, .:Understood:. Megatron glanced behind himself to ensure the space bridge was properly closed. This is a precious opportunity, one that I cannot waste. Those relentless Autobots will no doubt attempt something as soon as they can collect themselves. But for now...

Megatron turns back to Orion, extending him a polite servo as if to lead him towards the bridge of the ship. "Are you alright Orion? You aren't badly injured, are you?" There was no need to pretend to be concerned, at this point Megatron genuinely began recalling how the blinding light of the Matrix burned out of Optimus' chest to quell Unicron. It didn't appear to be a comfortable experience.

Orion's bright blue optics blinked before instinctively taking Megatron's servo and placing the other to his chest plate. "I... believe I am mostly well. Though there is a burning sensation waning just above my spark, and a cloudiness in my processor."

"Ah, that would make sense given what you have endured in the past few cycles." Megatron guided Orion forward towards the exit of the boarding room. "We will have Knockout give you a thorough medical examination and ensure you are taken care of."

Megatron gave Orion an assuring shoulder touch before retracting his servo and sending Soundwave another comms message. .:Issue a command for all Decepticons to stand down, the bot who looks like Optimus Prime is not to be threatened, but treated as a guest:.

The silver warlord turned to the closest Vehicon captain, "Send word to Knockout, we have an ally in need of a medical examination." The Vehicon awkwardly nodded, dared one last glance at the ex-Autobot leader, and lifted a servo to his helm. After a few silent klicks, the Vehicon captain confirmed, "Knockout had been alerted. Shall... we escort your guest to the medical bay?"

The Decepticon leader thought for a moment before deciding it would not be ideal to send Orion away with strangers just yet. "I will take him there, personally." He announced firmly, before looking back towards Orion. "Do you require assistance walking?"

Orion blinked again before shaking his helm, "I should be fine, Megatronus, thank you... Lead the way."

Megatron internally winced at the old name. Ah, I will have to do something about that. Megatron nodded and made his way out of the boarding room, and into the dark corridors of the Nemesis. The standby Vehicons awkwardly resumed their work as the two much larger mechs exited. Orion followed closely behind, taking in as much visual information as he could. An awkward silence followed, so Megatron opted to fill it with some useful information.

"Knockout is our chief Medical Officer." Orion jumped in surprise as Megatron's deep voice snapped his attention. "I will warn you he is... a flashy one who's a bit self-absorbed. But his work is true and he can no doubt remove the brand of enemy from your armor."

Orion followed Megatron's gaze to his shoulders. He had to maneuver his entire servo inward to get a better look at the battered Autobot insignia branded to his plating. After a moment, he looked at Megatron's chest plate, to see the differences in the purple Decepticon insignia. He frowned a little before answering.

"I don't recall getting any brand. And I don't recall having such a... robust chassis." He turned his digits and palms over, as if he did not even recognize them as his own. Megatron recalled how Orion originally looked- shorter and less compact than he did now. No sharp edges to his plating, no armed weaponry, and no... face plate to hide behind. It must be a very unnerving experience to wake up in a body so alien.

"Yes, you have undergone various changes in the long time since we last met. However, we will dispense every resource available to make you comfortable. You are safe here with us, away from those vile Autobots." Megatron attempted to speak in a reassuring tone.

"Autobots..." Orion suddenly stopped, and placed a servo on his helm as if struggling to remember something. "That... that was the name I had planned to share with you for our anti-caste movement." He slowly removed his servo, and looked up at his old friend. "The enemy... repurposed the name?"

"That and so much more, old friend." Megatron muses in relief. Orion seemed confused by the term "old" friend, but at least he didn't seem to recall the outcome of their High Council speeches on that fateful day.

Megatron began again, "It seems there is a lot you don't remember. In essence, you were taken from us." Megatron turned to continue the trek to the med bay, hoping to hide his concentrating expression. "You have been with the enemy for thousands of meta cycles, but operating under a different name and behaving like an entirely different individual.”

“However, it seems we were both in the right place at the right time,” the large silver mech continued. “As circumstances would have it, the contents of your chest were emptied and suddenly... you were Orion once again."

Orion spoke up thoughtfully. "That's why... That's why you looked so surprised. And why were you armed? But what was in my chest-"

"In time all will be explained to you, Orion." Megatron cut off Orion before he could continue, realizing the situation could progress faster than he was ready for. “There will no doubt be a lot of complicated information to process, and it would be best to first ensure you are in good health.” To Megatron’s relief, the familiar gray medical bay doors were in sight. “We are nearly there.”

The medical bay doors part automatically as the two large bots make their way inside the dimly lit room. Knockout’s red paint job stood in stark contrast to the rest of the desaturated room, which was otherwise devoid of any warm tones. The red mech in question casually turned to face Megatron and Orion after placing a set of scalpels on an adjustable end table. His pale face plate and piercing red optics took Orion by surprise, despite Megatron’s previous warning. The shorter bot before them looked more akin to a racer than a medical officer.

“Ah, Lord Megatron~” Knockout gave a little bow as he strutted forward towards the pair. “Everything is ready for the medical examination.” Knockout stopped just in front of Orion, smirking as he studied the ex-Autobot leader up and down before addressing him.

“Greetings. Oh, you’re even bigger up close.” Knockout remarks charmingly as he extends a servo in greeting. “The name’s Knockout, and you’ll be in my medical care this morning.”

Megatron barely contained his irritation as Orion hesitantly shook Knockout’s smaller servo in greeting. He knew Orion was the type to sooner be put off by sportive airs, rather than match them. Just what exactly did Soundwave tell Knockout?

Orion was very much taken aback by Knockout’s directness, but does his best to sound professional, “Thank you, My name is Orion Pax-”

“Yes, thank you Knockout” Megatron interjects with a hiss as if to tell Knockout to ‘settle down.’ “And I hope you would extend our ally every courtesy while I step out to prepare the rest of Orion’s arrival.”

“But of course, Lord Megatron.” Knockout casually waves off the concerned remark and gestures towards the medical berth. “I’ll need to run some tests, and hopefully we won’t have to keep you overnight for observation,” he says teasingly.

Orion glances at Megatron as if to seek reassurance. Megatron catches Orion’s pleading look and places an encouraging servo on Orion’s red plating. “As I said before, Knockout’s medical skills have never been in doubt, and preparing your accommodations is something that requires my personal attention.” Megatron attempts to extend his field with confidence as he speaks, hoping Orion obliges to make his job easier.

Finally, Orion nods and agrees, “Of course, I do not wish to be a burden.”

“You are no burden, Orion.” The Decepticon leader stepped aside, allowing Orion a clear path towards the medical berth. “I will return to retrieve you once my preparations are complete, assuming all is well with the results of your examination.”

Orion made his way to the medical berth and got situated according to Knockout’s directions. Megatron spared the two one last glance before exiting the medical bay and sending Knockout a private comms message, .:The medical bay will be barred from all shipwide communications for the next cycle to ensure the rest of the Nemesis is aware of our guest’s situation:.

Megatron thought for a moment before sending a second message, .:Refrain from intimidating Orion with your charm, Knockout. He lacks the traditional tough exterior of a Prime:.

The silver warlord had only walked a few paces before he finally got a reply. .:You wound me, Lord Megatron! “Orion’s” comfort is my highest priority. I would not dare squander this rare opportunity~:.

Megatron could not help but roll his optics and sigh in defeat. Considering the rest of the crew at his disposal, Knockout was still one of the better options to ease Orion’s transition.

- - -

While Knockout was definitely the ostentatious type, Orion could not deny Megatron was correct when it came to his medical officer’s knowledge. In a matter of moments, Knockout had expertly connected various diagnosis wires to Orion’s frame and begun scanning his chassis for any anomalies. Even when he had to take a sample of energon, Knockout did so swiftly and with little to no discomfort. The red medic had made sure to thoroughly question Orion on all pertinent painful areas and had various follow-up questions.

In time, Knockout was ready with his diagnosis, a datapad in servo, and standing to Orion’s left beside the medical berth.

“According to the physical examination and scans, you are definitely suffering from internal burn damage, sore struts, noteworthy processor delays, and overall system exhaustion.” Knockout paused for a moment to swipe to the next section on his data pad before continuing.

“Lucky for you, we have plenty of salves for soreness, and a proper recharge should allow your nanites to heal your internal wounds and recover from exhaustion. Not to mention, your processor is in dire need of a power down. However, I will be prescribing you an energon supplement to help you heal faster- especially with that burn damage in your chest cavity.” Knockout pointed at Orion’s chest for emphasis, and Orion merely nodded in acknowledgement.

“Miraculously, there were no signs of infection, so no invasive treatment will be necessary.” The flashy red mech lowered the data pad and made stern optic contact with Orion. The serious expression caused Orion to stiffen as he stared back at Knockout’s ruby optics.

“But most importantly of all, you will need to rest as much as possible. No strenuous activities for the next Deca-Cycle or you may not heal properly.” The authority in Knockout’s voice was enough to make Orion take Knockout’s words very seriously.

“And that concludes your medical examination,” Knockout declared with casual air returning to his voice. “I’ll have your prescriptions sent over to your hab-suite for you to take before you power down. Any questions?”

Orion looked at the ceiling of the med bay for a moment before answering. “Yes, actually. I understand you are the chief medical officer, but Megatron mentioned your skill with body work.” Orion gestured to his shoulder that was currently facing Knockout. “Might you be able to remove the brand from my plating? If it’s not too inconvenient of a task.”

Knockout’s expression lit up with a genuine smile at Orion’s question, “You came to the right ‘bot~ It would do my optics a favor to remove this garish brand from your chassis.” With that, Knockout began swapping his medical tools for cosmetic tools. “I always felt that bots looked better allowing their inherent style to shine, unhindered by brazen iconography.”

Orion was a bit surprised by Knockout’s admission, but soon realized that he could not locate any Decepticon insignia on the medic’s chassis. The medical officer seemed as if he spoke from an artistic point of view, rather than a point of disdain for identifying as a Decepticon.

“Actually, I was hoping to have the brand replaced with the Decepticon badge.”

“What.” Knockout’s cheery tone flattened to that of disappointment, more of a statement than a question.

“Are you certain you wish to add the Deception badge there?” The medic shook his pointed helm and walked back towards Orion with his cosmetic tools. “It’s just that you have an impressive chassis and don't need garish graphics disrupting the flow of your optic-catching frame."

Orion considered Knockout’s perceptive (completely oblivious to the flirtatious implications of Knockout's statement), but the recent memory of Megatron proudly wearing the Decepticon emblem on his chest was enough to cause Orion to double down on his decision. “I appreciate your suggestion, but I would prefer to share matching emblems with the rest of the Decepticons. I am not concerned with my physical appearance in that sense.”

Knockout ex-vented and shrugged, sporting a playful grin. He couldn’t be too disappointed, Orion was quite adorable with such an innocent request. He no doubt wished to match a certain silver-clad leader. “Can’t win ‘em all, I suppose. One Decepticon badge coming right up.”

In half a cycle, Knockout had managed to skillfully remove the old Autobot brand with extreme precision and prepare the shoulder area for a new insignia. The medic hummed to himself as he skillfully drafted, applied, and welded the Decepticon badge to Orion’s shoulder plating. After a final brush over with a hot needle, Knockout’s work was complete.

The red medic smiled proudly as he finished his handiwork, and Orion instinctively looked over to see the finished product.

"Welcome back to the winning team"

- - -

Megatron's profile was projected onto every relevant monitor aboard the Nemesis. He did not waste any time beginning his announcement.

"Attention crew. Our guest is currently in isolation to help ease his transition. But when Orion Pax emerges he is to be shown every courtesy... and the first to address him as Optimus Prime will have their voice box torn out." The Decepticon leader finished the final threat with an air of curtness to illustrate how casually he would be willing to dish out punishment if the opportunity presented itself.

Airachnid wasted no time in questioning Megatron's announcement, "Lord Megatron, is it wise to have an Autobot- current or former- full run of the premises?" She had clearly not been satisfied with Megatron's earlier debrief of the situation and was insistent on gleaning more information on the matter.

Without missing a beat, Megatron deflected, "Nothing happens aboard this ship without my knowledge. You would do well to remember that Airachnid." He pauses, "But there is no need for concern. Orion does not possess the same fight that Optimus is so renowned for. "

"Then what use is he to our cause?" Airachnid pressed further.

"Ahh, rest assured. Orion Pax will indeed earn his stripes."

They were interrupted by the room entrance door opening and Soundwave's pedes stepping closer. He stopped in front of the Decepticon leader and activated his visor, which displayed energon allocation and a hab-suite location prepared for Orion.

"Swift work as usual, excellent Soundwave." Megatron praised.

"So, what concoction of lies are we to tell this little archivist?" Airachnid sneered, unwilling to drop the conversation.

Megatron's field burned with annoyance as Airachnid called Orion such a mocking phrase. It just so happened to be the same phrase he would use when speaking with Orion before their paths splintered- but never used in a condescending manner. He regained his composure and evaluated how to best answer Orion's inevitable questions. He especially considered how best to appeal to his old friend's nature, and came to a realization.

"There is no point in concocting any lies. Orion is smart, and a natural information seeker." Not too unlike Soundwave, he thought to himself. "Hiding the truth would only bring suspicion when our account does not line up with common knowledge or historical records... But the truth from a certain perspective will ensure his spark lies with our cause." He optics met Soundwave's visor before narrowing to meet Airachnid's gaze.

"Huh. So we are simply expected to treat him as this long lost ally of yours?" The purple and gold arachnoid appeared slightly disappointed in the answer she received.

"No. You are simply expected to treat him as our long lost ally- one who was claimed by the corruption of the Autobot cause early on." The warlord loomed a bit over Arachnid to emphasize his point. "The mantle of Prime corrupted and controlled Orion, while the High council used that to their advantage to try and eliminate the Deceptions." He stood back up straight, and stared down at Airachnid in warning. "The rest is history."

"Now." the Decepticon leader brushed past Airachnid not waiting for a response. Soundwave had already stepped aside anticipating Megatron's departure. "If you will excuse me, I will retrieve our ally from the medical bay."

The Decepticon leader departed the command deck with purpose. He passed by two sets of patrolling Vehicons as he made his way to Knockout’s medical bay. The physical examination and scans should most certainty have concluded by now, so Megatron wasted no time approaching the automatic doors.

As the entrance doors parted, Megatron could hear Knockout relaying follow-up procedures to Orion as he returned various tools to their proper storage units. Orion turned his attention to the entrance and his shoulders seemingly relaxed at the sight of his friend.

"I trust that you have made headway, Knockout?" Megatron asked, announcing his presence. The silver-clad leader noticed the battered remains of the Autobot brand still laying on the adjustable side table. "And I see you wasted no time in removing the brand of the enemy. Quick as ever when it comes to cosmetic adjustments."

Knockout cocks his helm slightly and smiles smugly, "You flatter me, Lord Megatron. I do take great pride in body work." He finishes cleaning his needle before placing it on a tray with similar tools. "Although. Orion is quite the pleasant patient. My work here is done, I will release Orion to you."

"Excellent." Megatron turns his attention to Orion, who’s expression contorted a bit as if he was bewildered by something. "Is something the matter, Orion?"

The ex-Autobot leader removes his large frame from the medical berth in an uncharacteristically uncoordinated manner. Megatron pretends not to notice while Knockout attempts to stifle a chuckle at the display. Orion steadies himself on his pedes before answering, "I couldn't help but notice that Knockout and others refer to you as Megatron... I was unaware that you chose to shorten your name?"

"Oh. Yes, that." Megatron waited politely at the entrance for Orion. "I felt it was a good choice. It's shorter and separates me just a bit from the original Prime's namesake."

Orion followed Megatron outside the med bay, Knockout's playful whistle becoming distant as the door automatically closed behind them. Orion picked up his pace to walk in step with his old friend. "If that is your preferred designation, I would be happy to call you that." Orion smiled as he spoke his friend's new name for the first time, "Megatron."

Hearing Orion speak his name in such a soft and kind way, nearly made the warlord’s intake stall. Perhaps this was a mistake, he thinks briefly before resetting his vocalizer.

"Yes, of course... and I will continue to refer to you as Orion, if that is your preference."

"Erm, of course?" Orion raised a metal brow in confusion. "I don't recall going by any other name..."

"Ah." Megatron grumbled. "There is much to explain."

Orion's voice addressed him with sudden desperation. "Please, tell me. I want to know everything that happened. I've clearly missed so much..."

Megatron raised his optics to meet Orion's pleading blue optics. "Of course." He paused again, mentally concluding he would have to begin the tale back in Iacon. "Best to start with the High Council hearing. Do you recall us presenting our speeches to the High Council in Iacon?"

Orion's metal brows furrowed and optics dropped. After a few clicks he ex-vented heavily, "Yes... It's barely there in my memories. Alpha Trion was trying to secure us an audience. But... I can't recall any of the events that follow." He dared a glance back at Megatron, whose expression had unknowingly changed to one of bitterness as he recalled the day of his betrayal. Megatron stepped ahead, choosing to lead the way rather than follow in step with Orion.

"Yes, we presented our case to the High Council, but they were only interested in you." Megatron's clawed fist unknowingly tensed before he forced them to relax.

"You were appointed as the next prime- Optimus Prime. You were intended to replace the Missing Sentinel Prime. The Council supporters eagerly called themselves autobots before stealing you away as their puppet." The warlord's field exuded frustration and dull anger as he continued to recount the tale. Simultaneously, he could feel the shock in Orion's field at the mention of his appointment as Prime. "They altered your chassis, and imposed the responsibility of the Matrix of Leadership upon you- which changed you forever. After that, it was as if you were an entirely different mech... I could never get through to you, and our factions fought for millions of meta cycles."

Orion's optics widened and his spark fell. He touched his chest again, just above where the Matrix would be and his servo curled into a dejected fist, his field betraying his state of distress. His expression was obvious, as if to say; I fought Megatronus? I led the High Council's forces against my dear friend?

Megatron's heavy steps thumped in the hallway as he led Orion to the Nemesis Bridge. The doors parted automatically for the two of them, and the working Vehicons on duty could not help but stare as the ex- Autobot leader apprehensively followed Megatron into the large room.

Megatron continued. "You have been their steadfast figurehead for quite some time Orion. Long enough for us to be in an exodus to another world."

"Exodus? Why?" Orion asked softly, still processing his circumstances.

"Because our conflict has led to this." The silver mech turns to the large monitor overlooking the bridge and presses a few buttons on the console interface to reveal the lifeless husk of Cybertron's remains floating in space before them.

Orion gasps, despair gripping his intake as he takes in the image of his destroyed homeworld. "Cybertron..." he says abjectly, before his sadness boils to anger. For the first time since boarding the Nemesis, Orion's faceplate contorts in anger. He scowls and his optics narrow sharply as he mentally connects the chain of events. They used me. They used me to try and destroy Megatronus. Not only did their plan fail, but it cost us our home!

Megatron studied Orion's expressions curiously, searching his field for any signs of hostility or suspicion towards him, but found none. He weighed his responses before proceeding with what he assumed was his natural best response- but Orion spoke first.

"I cannot believe we are capable of such horrors..." His optics dart from state to state on Cybertron's surface, as if hoping to find some semblance of a settlement spared from the violence of war.

"Yes..." Megatron agreed firmly. "And to think the vision behind the High Council's conquest continues." He left his servo rest at his side and turned to properly face Orion. "The Autobots pursued us to this planet's orbit. We feel its species are not ready to behold us. But we have resolved to endure and refuel here before our eventual return to Cybertron. Avoiding Autobots where we can."

Orion's frame and field maintained its despondent expression. His processor no doubt struggled to categorize all of this new information. For a moment, Megatron felt as if he was back on Cybertron. He recalled a memory of attending to his archivist friend while he visited Kaon, processing the rabble that he called home. Orion wore the same sorrowful expression back then as he did now. A strange feeling arose from inside Megatron, as if he needed to say something.

"Orion, please do not confuse my intentions as I tell you all of this... I am nothing but grateful at this moment. Since emptying the contents of the Matrix, you are yourself again." Megatron placed a servo on his shorter friend’s back. "It's as if you have returned after a long journey."

Orion lifted his helm to meet Megatron’s gaze. His expressions softened a bit before eventually responding. “... Thank you for explaining the circumstances to me, Megatron. I admit that I am still overwhelmed with this information. However, I can’t imagine how hard these past few hundred meta-cycles must have been for you.”

His concerned words took Megatron off guard. His first inclination was to react defensively, as if Orion’s concern equated to seeing some kind of weakness in himself. Even so, old memories began to resurface as Megatron recalled that Orion had always been a compassionate bot. Orion’s kind antics had often struck him as peculiar given the harsh environments in the mines and Kaon. It was truly strange to have that old thoughtfulness directed his way after all this time. He forced composure into his vocalizer as he attempted to respond.

“You are …welcome. Although you do not need to worry yourself with my wellbeing. What matters now is that you are no longer under the enemy’s influence.” The silver warlord turned to begin retreating towards the exit, hoping his expression had not betrayed his confusion. “And you deserve to see where you will be staying while aboard the Nemesis.”

Megatron began to walk towards the exit, but Optimus did not follow.

"One question, Megatron." Orion spoke with newfound vigor, causing Megatron to internally bristle. "Why are we called Decepticons?"
Megatron pauses before answering. "Another craven Autobot scare tactic." And something I can properly answer with confidence.

His large frame turns slowly as he speaks and his mannerisms become more expressive as if he is exceptionally certain in his answer. "The name was meant to demonize us, instead, we wear it as a badge of honor. For if speaking the truth is Deception, then we are gladly guilty."

Megatron’s words sink into Orion, who merely nods as if he had guessed as much himself.

"Now please, Orion. There will be plenty of time for catching up. You must rest." Megatron gestured towards the exit with his servo and tried to flare his field with reassurance. He was eager to leave this room filled with Vehicon troops and continue their conversation in the more empty hallways.

“I suppose you have a point.” Orion mused and finally began making his way towards the exit, allowing Megatron to inwardly relax a bit. Together, they left the Nemesis bridge and the doors automatically closed behind them.

The sounds of their heavier pedes echoed through the Nemesis corridors, with no other audible pede-falls. Megatron led the way towards the hab-suite block on the lower deck. The quietness once again stretched a bit longer than Megatron had liked. With Orion not asking any more questions, Megatron attempted to strike up a professional conversation.

“All of the hab-suites are along the lower deck in the northeast block. We happen to have a few to spare, so you are welcome to make yourself comfortable. If you need anything, you are welcome to hail a maintenance Vehicon or send a request through the communications grid. The grid can be accessed from any terminal, public or private.”

Megatron waited a moment just in case Orion had any clarifying questions. When his silence was met with silence, he continued.

“After a proper power down, we can introduce you to the rest of the crew. Unfortunately, the war has claimed the lives of many comrades, so we have only a handful of other crew members that are not Vehicons.” The Decepticon leader waited again, anticipating a question.

This time, his pause was met with a question from Orion. “These troops that all appear strikingly similar are the Vehicons, correct?”

“Yes,” Megatron answered, but internally he sighed in annoyance and wished he could have predicted such a question. “They are forged through invention, rather than by the Well of Allsparks. It was a miracle of science, given that the Well… stopped producing sparks long ago.”

"What?" Orion’s sharp question was followed by faster pede falls as he attempted to walk alongside his bigger silver companion. “How could that be possible?”

Megatron grumbled in his response, “After we waged war, fewer and fewer sparks emerged from the Well, until the Well became entirely inactive due to the removal of the All-spark.”

Orion was too stunned to respond immediately. He gaped at Megatron before choking out, “Who would be so irrational as to remove the Allspark from the Well? An Autobot?”

My thoughts exactly, Megatron groaned internally. He vividly remembered Optimus, Jetfire, and Bumblebee exiting the core of Cybtertron with the Allspark in servo. He also recalled reports of Arcee and Jazz casting the artifact off world. However, such information may be too much for Orion to handle on his first solar cycle aboard the Nemesis.

“Yes, Autobots, in an attempt to keep me from recruiting more Decepticons for the cause. You could say that has been another pursuit on our long list of goals we hope to achieve. As a result, we needed an alternative.” Megaton paused to glance at Orion. “I’m sure you can recognize a physical resemblance between the Vehicons and a certain scientist.”

“Oh. Shockwave.” Orion’s voice fell a bit, but Megatron was well aware of Orion’s misgivings of Shockwave from long ago. “In truth, I am surprised to hear Shockwave had any interest in creating life.”

“That is understandable.” The Decepticon leader agreed. “However, I think even Shockwave saw the value in having more allies to distribute the workload.” Best to not emphasize their obedient and disposable nature, Megatron concluded.

Orion fell back into a silent walk, his field pulled closer to himself. Megatron could only imagine the questions he might be considering, or the other old friends whose fates he may wish to inquire about. However, they had turned the final corner that revealed the hab-suite block.

“We have arrived.” Megatron walks ahead a few paces and stops in front of a hab-suite with the unit: AQ7 displayed above the door. He activates the touch pad interface and enters a 5 digit code allowing the unit door to slide open. “Your temporary pass code is 35251, you’re welcome to change it at any time.”

With the hab-suite door open, the bots could see the freshly prepped room was one of the more spacious suites to accommodate Orion’s taller size. There was a large sized berth, a data desk, and various storage compartments that could be seen at a glance.

“I suppose it goes without saying, but you are always welcome to hail me for anything you may need, or any questions you may have. Much has changed since our days on Cybertron, but that does not mean…” Megatron found himself speaking automatically without critically thinking about the final destination of his statement.

He was quickly falling back into old ways with Orion, and it alarmed him.

Orion stood silently in front of Megatron, his field flaring outwards just a bit as if to reassure Megatron as he somewhat eagerly waited for his friend to finish. Megatron watched Orion’s blue optics expectantly study his expression as he forced himself to continue, blinking his own red optics once and twitching his helm to the side to break from Orion’s gaze. “... it does not mean that anything has changed with our respective… situations.”

Orion’s confused expression and the silence that followed was enough to make Megatron want to smash his own processor.

Respective situations? How vague can one possibly be! Our respective situations have changed beyond recognition! Megatron felt compelled to clarify his position immediately, mentally shoving aside his indignity. He leaned closer to Orion as he spoke, his left servo gesturing expressively towards the both of them.

“By that I mean-! We are still dear allies in this fight against our corrupt opponents. And we can continue to do so, despite everything that has happened.” The silver warlord closed his gesturing servo into a fist as he finished, emphasizing the assuredness at the end of his statement.

Yet, Megatron’s old friend remained still. Orion's blue optics eventually closed while he brought a servo to his faceplate.

By the Unmaker, Megatron silently cursed to himself, surely I have not evoked suspicion in Orion so soon-

His thought was suddenly interrupted by digits grasping his outstretched servo and the sound of deep muffled laughter. Orion’s frame shuttered like an engine with his helm tilted downward and free digits covering his lower faceplate. His rumble of a laugh filled the emptiness of the hallway around them, evaporating any perceived tension left in the dark hab-suite block where they stood.

The sound was so hauntingly familiar to Megatron’s audials that he froze. It was a laugh he could barely recall in the depths of his memory banks, and one he had tried to forget early on. It only lasted a few clicks, but the damage had been done. Something old and painful had begun to burn within Megatron’s spark, and it did not lessen when Orion lowered his digits from his smirking face and opened his optics.

“My apologies, Megatron.” Orion reset his vocalizer and fixed his posture, not removing his digits from Megatron’s servo. “Seeing the renowned gladiator and political activist of Kaon struggling to reaffirm his position is a sight one rarely sees.” He smiled at Megatron, his optic slits pulling upward in pure amusement. “Thank you for your hospitality and concern, dear friend.”

As he finished speaking, Orion leaned towards his dear friend, as if to casually embrace him.

Megatron, still frozen and seeing Orion closing the gap between them, feels time beginning to slow down.

He involuntarily recalls a recent memory of a hostile Optimus Prime lunging towards him, and his instincts take over. The memory dissolved nearly as instantaneously as it came, but Megatron found his limbs acting on their own- reflexively stepping backwards and his canon-mounted servo placing itself between the two of them. Megatron barely had the self awareness to refrain from igniting his cannon before time resumed at normal speed- the act stopping Orion in his tracks.

The ex-autobot leader intakes sharply and defensively lifts his servos. His previously grinning faceplate was now replaced with a pained and shocked expression at Megatron’s defensive reaction.

The silver mech blinked as he finally resurfaced to reality, and winced as he read Orion’s expression. Megatron immediately lowered his cannon-mounted servo and choked on his words. A wave of hot guilt and chagrin washed over him as he realized what he had done. Orion was not attempting to hurt him, but to embrace him like they used to do. Before the war, before the betrayal.

Orion stayed silent while he watched Megatron’s optics widen and expression change from that of hostility, to shock, and now to… shame? The Decepticon leader lowered his gaze, clenched his digits into fists at his side, and seemingly growled at himself.

“Orion. Please forgive my harsh reaction.” He said through gritted teeth. “I was merely taken off guard for a moment. I was not expecting such a courtesy from you.”

Megatron opened his optics and risked a glance at Orion, unsure if his explanation would be enough. However, Orion’s gaze had softened and his brows pulled together in concern. The red and blue mech’s servos were defeatedly lowered to his sides. “You still see me as Optimus Prime.”

The statement stung more than it should have to Megatron’s already wounded pride. Instead of reaching for a flimsy excuse, he relented. “Yes, for a moment I did.”

They stood apart, just outside of servo reach for what felt like an eternity. Megatron was contemplating methods to release Orion to his hab-suite on a positive note, but was wrestling with his options. He truly had not expected things to turn out so badly in the last possible moments.

For the second time, Orion saved him from having to conjure up a worthy response. “I understand,” he offered before smiling sadly. “You’ve probably known Optimus Prime longer than you've known me.”

Megtron thought Orion might step closer, but Orion kept his respectful distance. “I hope in time… I can change that.”

To be met with humility and understanding so frequently in the past cycle was finally catching up to Megatron. This whole situation was becoming too personal, and Orion was managing to cut deeper and deeper into old wounds he thought he had cast off long ago. By the Inferno, I’m manipulating you! Why do I feel as if I am the one being influenced!?

This needs to end.

Megatron ex-vented heavily and genuinely shook his helm in dismissal. “Orion, please forget this whole conversation. Delete it from your memory banks if you must, I never intended to impart such guilt upon you- nor keep you from properly resting.”

This time, Megatron took a step closer. “There is nothing you need to prove or fix. There is nothing expected of you except to rest, recover, and rise when you feel ready. Please take as much time as you need.” His tone had a pleading edge to it that he could not conceal.

Orion looked inside the neatly prepared hab-suite and then back at his old friend. He had no desire to end the conversation here, but the guilt far outweighed his selfish desire to prolong the conversation. “Of course, I appreciate all of your care.”

The red and blue mech sheepishly turned inside the hab-suite and lingered in the entrance, before impulsively turning back to his friend in one last attempt to affirm their friendship. “I hope to see you soon, Megatron.” Orion said softly.

The inner corners of Megatron’s metal brows raised ever so slightly as the automatic door began to close.

“Rest well, Orion.”

Chapter Text

The Decepticon command deck doors whirred open closely followed by Megatron’s heavy pede steps filling the empty room as he approached Soundwave monitoring various windows at the main console. The slender mech’s tentacles were plugged into the console while his thin digits danced across the keys. Soundwave’s biolights pulsed rhythmically as he worked.

It had been many cycles since Megatron had left Orion in the hab-suite block, and the Deception leader was ready for a recharge himself. However, Soundwave had yet to submit the daily event report to Megatron’s personal channel. Since Soundwave was the most thorough bot he knew, such refusal to submit the event report on time usually meant there was an issue- or Soundwave wished to discuss the events in person.

Given today's events, Megatron had a suspicion that it could be both.

“Soundwave,” he greeted cooly. “How might the daily event report be faring? I had hoped to review it before retiring for this solar-cycle.”

To his expectation, the dark blue mech did not respond immediately. Instead, Soundwave pulled up files on Optimus Prime and projected them to all monitors. The information included what they knew of Optimus’s build, abilities, allies, and undertakings. Soundwave then turned around and activated his visor, which displayed a list of data core privileges. An orange underline specifically highlighted Orion Pax’s tentative username.

Orion’s highlighted user information continued to blink on Soundwave’s visor until Megatron pieced together what his communications officer was trying to say. “... You think we should deny Orion access to Optimus Prime's file in our database?”

The dark blue mech actually nodded in agreement and played back an audio recording of Megatron from before the catastrophe with dark energon. “Optimus is not so easily destroyed. We have millenia worth of battles behind us to prove it-t.”

“... I understand your point, Soundwave. However, denying Orion access to his own file would only arouse suspicion. He would naturally conclude we are hiding important information from him, and we can’t afford to give him any reason to distrust us.” Megatron concluded.

A moment of silence followed Megatron’s decision, then Soundwave displayed an image on his visor. The silver warlord recognized the snapshot from Cybertron with the off-lined bodies of council members lying in the ruins of Iacon. A recording of Megatron’s words were played over the image, “A-and to think the vision behind the High Council's conquest continues-s.”

Megatron resisted scowling and instead closed his optics before composing his answer.

“Lest we forget, most of the high-caste bots and Council members sided with the Autobots as soon as war broke out. It’s not a stretch to connect the Autobots to their long history with pro-caste bots, and therefore, fought to maintain a stratified society. The Decepticon assault on Iacon was in retaliation for countless generations of oppression.”

Soundwave stood unmoving as if still unconvinced. After two moments, another recording was picked and displayed on his visor. This one was complete with video displaying a furious Megatron stalking towards a collapsed Starscream.

“I ordered you to await my command!” A crashing sound is followed by Starscream being thrashed to the floor of the Nemesis. The silver seeker began to frighteningly crawl backwards as Megatron closed the space between them.

“Agh..! My intentions were pure, Master! I only wanted you to be rid of Optimus- augh!” Another crash as one of Megaron’s pedes crushes Starscream to the floor.

“No one rids me of Optimus Prime, but me! Do you understand? DO YOU!?”

One last horrible crash of living metal filled the room before Soundwave shut off the recording.

This time the silver warlord fumed at the recording and growled, “That-! Was a moment of weakness that will not be brought up to Orion unless someone offers it. I’ve already threatened the crew to refrain from sharing such sensitive details, I doubt anyone would risk incurring my wrath.”

Risking another angry reaction, Soundwave displayed the profile of Starscream from the inactive staff listings. The screen highlighted the annotation; ‘Deserted.’

“Tch, and what could that idiot achieve?” Megatron scoffs. “Starscream couldn’t lead a parade if he tried.”

The communications officer stood quietly as if considering his next point, but Megtaron decided it would be best interrupted before any other old footage was thrown his way.

“Soundwave, I would argue we have done well considering we had no proper preparation for such an… unprecedented circumstance.” Thelarge silver mech began pacing. “No one could have foreseen this outcome, and we have capitalized well. The Autobots lack their fearless leader, and we have gained one of the brightest minds of Iacon. And if that wasn’t enough, Orion has begun to see the consequences of war first hand. If we continue to treat Orion as an ally, we could have a fiercely loyal Decepticon in our midst.”

The Decepticon leader paused, but Soundwave remained silent. With no objections, Megatron continued.

“I intend to give Orion plenty to do, and lots of ammunition to fuel his passions for justice. In fact…” Megatron stopped pacing and turned to face Soundwave, realizing he may have found a way to alleviate his officer’s concerns. “I would be more than willing to share them with you Soundwave, if you would like to provide your expert input?”

Soundwave stood up straighter and flashed “?” on his visor.

“Hm.” the warlord hummed, “It’s simply a matter of the spark.”

- - -

Orion’s optics eventually came online and adjusted to the dimly-lit lavender lights that furnished the lower walls of his hab-suite. For a moment, he sat up bewildered before recalling the events prior to his recharge. His systems appeared refreshed and his processor no longer felt strained. Orion’s gaze brushed over the interior of his hab-suite until he caught sight of a chronometer displaying the time. There was approximately one cycle that remained until midday.

...! One cycle until midday? Orion thought to himself. He had been recharging for more than one entire solar cycle!

While he had no engagements, he did not wish to keep his dear friend waiting. Or worse, give him any cause for concern. Orion stood up and stretched his cables, grunting as he noted a tightness in neck.

Sensing motion, the lights in the room automatically turned on, illuminating the rest of the hab-suite. He scanned the room and confirmed that everything was as he had left it. Beside the berth he had just risen from there were poly-clothes stacked in the corner, a data desk with a neat stack of datapads on top, a personal terminal mounted above the desk, empty storage units along the east and west walls, energon supplements placed on nearby shelf, and a sliding door in the corner of the room that led to a private washroom.

The previous night, Orion had been too exhausted to open any of the datapads, instead opting to collapse in his newly assigned berth after infusing Knockout’s supplements into his energon allocation. However, a refreshed Orion glanced at the datapads left on the desk with intrigue. He handled the topmost data pads with delicate ease and noted that they were mostly informational pads explaining procedures, general layout of the Nemesis, schedules, and the like. The red and blue mech found himself particularly drawn towards a section titled, “Staff” and began reading from the top. As if second nature, Orion sat in the desk chair and began rapidly reading and scanning the entirety of the Staff section- taking various mental notes.

Megatron was, of course, first as the leader and primary decision maker. His impressive profile was followed closely by Soundwave: Communications Officer. Orion recognized the familiar visor and dark plating from his visits to Kaon, but couldn’t help notice how slender Soundwave appeared. “Hm, no surprise Soundwave is still at Megatron’s side.” Orion mumbled to himself. He was sure Soundwave would receive him just as coldly as he did back on Cybertron.

Scrolling farther, the familiar smug smile of Knockout’s profile appeared. He could practically hear Knockout’s playful greeting as he continued to read his profile. “Well, the name certainly suits him,” he commented as he scrolled to the bot listed just after the fashy red medic.

Breakdown: Warrior and Medic Assistant.

Orion strained his processor and did not recall Knockout mentioning anything about having an assistant. Breakdown’s height and build seemed expected for a warrior, but Orion could hardly imagine Knockout willingly sharing his lab with another mech- let alone someone so large. Regardless, the fact that they were listed so closely together had to least indicate they worked well together.

The last active member listed was Airachnid: Second in Command. She is noted as the most recent addition to the command team, and with an unusual skillset due to her arachnoid background. Orion recalled the only other arachnoid he had met was Dr. Cockwheel, Ratchet’s mentor and lead Micro Surgeon back in Iacon. He tucked the thought away and looked forward to introducing himself at some point this Second in Command.

Under the active staff listings, were a series of inactive staff members.

Starscream: Ex-Second in Command. Deserted.
Makeshift: Saboteur. Terminated by Autobot Wheeljack.
Skyquake: Warrior. Terminated by Autobot Bumblebee.
Dreadwing: Seeker Captain. MIA.
Shockwave: Ex-Lead Scientist. MIA.
Ravage: Saboteur. MIA.
Thundercracker: Seeker. Terminated by Sharticons.
Skywarp: Seeker. Terminated by Sharticons.
Hotlink: Seeker. Terminated by Sharticons.
Bitstream: Seeker. Terminated by Sharticons.
Ramjet: Seeker. Terminated by Sharticons.
Dirge: Seeker. MIA.
Slipstream: Seeker. MIA.
Megaempress: Warrior. Stasis. Current location: unknown.
Barricade: Warrior. Terminated by unidentified Autobots.
Frenzy: Support. Terminated by unidentified Autobots.
Blitzwing: Elite Warrior, Triple Changer. Terminated by Autobot leader Optimus Prime.

Orion stopped scrolling after reading the Blitzwing’s entry. The sight of his supposed old self terminating the name of a bot he recognized made him grimace. With a deep ex-vent, Orion closed his optics and leaned back in the desk chair. That wasn’t me, he pleaded to himself, those actions weren’t my own.

He opened his optics after a few moments and settled on Blitzwing’s description: Elite Warrior, Triple Changer. There had been few triple changers alive when he lived in Iacon, no doubt fewer now as a result of the war.

Yet, he could barely imagine himself (or version of himself) holding his own in a fight against a warrior of such elite status. Let alone terminating them.

He suddenly wondered if Megatron blamed him for the termination of old allies, but discarded the unpleasant thought with force. The memory of Megatron pushing him away last solar cycle with such a defensive expression sparked fresh pain within Orion as he recalled those wary crimson optics. We were closer than brothers, yet now I cannot even offer a comforting embrace without causing discomfort…

“I will have to study my previous actions as Optimus Prime at some point. I do not wish to cause Megatron, or anyone else, discomfort due to my ignorance,” Orion quietly resolved after waiting for the pang of guilt to pass. It didn’t pass, but he would have to learn to carry it regardless. He deactivated the datapad, and opted to pull up a different one describing the vessel’s daily operations to distract himself. After nearly a full cycle of reading, Orion decided it would be best to finally check-in with Megatron.

The tall mech placed the data pads back in the order in which he had found them, and made his way towards the exit. The doors automatically parted for him, and the backsides of two Vehicons greeted him just outside the doorway. The two Vehicons whirled around to face Orion, standing at respectful attention.

“Sir, Orion.” The rightmost Vehicon stuttered in greeting. “We have been asked to escort you to the command bridge to check in with Lord Megatron. If you are ready, we can take you there now.”

Orion studied the two Vehicons for a moment before answering. They looked identical, if not for the mismatched armor scrapes and dents. “Thank you. Yes, I am ready.”

“Right this way.” answered the leftmost Vehicon, and the three bots made their way through the long Nemesis corridors. Orion found himself wishing he had taken the datapad with a map of the Nemesis with him so he could keep track of the route to the Command deck. He would resign himself to bringing it with him next time.

They walked in silence until the guiding Vehicons stopped outside a large set of doors. “Right through these doors you will find Soundwave and Lord Megatron.”

“I appreciate your guidance. I apologize for my rudeness, I don’t believe I asked for your names?”

The two Vehicon troopers stared back at Orion in confusion. “Erm, you would like our designations, Sir? Were you displeased with our work?”

“No, not at all.” Orion was a bit taken aback by their question. “I simply was trying to be courteous. You know my name, I simply thought it would be appropriate to learn the names of those I meet.”

“Um. My designation is R-105,” the more confident Vehicon answered, Orion noted that R-105 had an X shaped scrape just above his Decepticon insignia.

“And I’m GR-37.” Answered the second Vehicon with a small dent on his chin. “Or Grey, if it’s easier.”

“Ah, I see,” Orion’s field extended a bit with gratitude. “R-105 and Grey. Thank you for your time, I will do my best to remember your names if I see you again.”

With that, the ex-Autobot leader nodded at both Vehicons in acknowledgement before proceeding inside the command deck.

R-105 and Grey stood stiffly in the hallway until the doors closed behind Orion. They exchanged tense glances before Grey finally stuttered, “He’s going to report us, isn’t he.”

R-105 scoffs and slumps as he walks away, “I should have made up a name. ‘Courteous’ my aft.”

- - -

“Orion, thank you for joining us.” Megatron greeted Orion just as Soundwave finished closing his open task window and leisurely turning around. “I presume you remember Soundwave? He has remained a steadfast ally throughout this war.”

“Yes. It’s good to see you again, Soundwave. You’ve no doubt been a great assistance to Megatron.” Orion kept his greeting as professional as possible and made an effort to smile.

Soundwave, however, merely stood still for an unusually long pause before finally nodding in acknowledgement.

Orion couldn’t help but internally ex-vent. He could never tell if Soundwave was displeased, annoyed, or quietly resentful of him.

To Orion’s relief, Megatron attempted to dispel the strange atmosphere by continuing, “We are grateful for Soundwave's excellent skill set.” The silver mech extended a servo as he spoke, the other placed behind him in a regal stance.

“We have decided that it would be best to slowly integrate you with the rest of the crew. Learning how everyone contributes to the cause should bring you up to speed on how we operate. Therefore, it was decided that you would first shadow Knockout and Breakdown for a few solar cycles.”

Orion could not help perking up at the familiar names. “I have not met Breakdown, but I did review the active staff profiles. If I am not mistaken- he arrived aboard the Nemesis with Knockout.”

“As studious as ever,” Megatron remarked with a grin that revealed his pointed dantae. For a moment, Orion could have sworn Megatron gave Soundwave a small victorious look before continuing, “Yes, Breakdown often assists Knockout in between his duties and organizing the Vehicon patrols. You’ll start by shadowing Knockout primarily in the medical bay, before transitioning to shadow Breakdown with his responsibilities.”

The Decepticon leader continued, “You and I will debrief every mega cycle to answer any questions you may have, or to simply check-in.” Megatron walked over to Orion and placed his outstretched servo on his friend’s shoulder.

“In time, we hope to find a good fit for you within the Decepticon cause.” With his servo still on Orion’s shoulder plating, Megatron reveals a note taking tablet with a stylus attachment in his other servo that had been obscured behind him. The silver mech silently presented the tablet to Orion.

Orion’s optics widened with intrigue as he recognized the familiar device. Note taking tablets were commonplace back in the Iacon Hall of Records, and he often carried at least one with him at all times. They came in various sizes and colors, but the one before him was conveniently large and had a lovely warm chrome finish with turquoise accents along the edges.

As he accepted the tablet into his digits, he was surprised by how light weight it was. A tablet of this size and deluxe feel would have been sold for quite a high price in any market on Cybertron. He had never seen this model in Iacon before, and felt a bit enchanted holding such a high quality version of a familiar tool. This would have been perfect for recording while traveling… Much better than the ragged one I previously owned.

Orion did not realize he had been admiring the tablet for more than a few clicks until Megatron reset his vocalizer and awkwardly removed his servo from his shoulder plating. Orion’s faceplate burned with self-consciousness as he realized how rude it may have appeared to silently stare at the gift and leave Megatron unacknowledged.

“T-thank you! I beg your pardon, I was merely fascinated by the craftsmanship of this tablet.” Orion glanced at Soundwave before gazing back up at Megatron with an expectant look. “This no doubt must have cost a significant amount, are you sure I shouldn’t use a more basic model?”

Megatron’s metal brows raised slightly in surprise before shaking his helm in disagreement. “Nonsense, we are happy to provide you with any tools you may need or desire.”

“But this tablet is particularly… lavish.” Orion objected as he activated the tablet and instinctively wrote something in Cybertronian to test out the stylus. To his delight, the stylus made little to no sound as it made contact with the transparent screen and even registered his pen pressure- something most data pads and note taking tablets rarely incorporated.

Orion was beyond impressed, his field fared with fondness. Yet, he forced himself to comply, “I couldn’t possibly accept this. Surely, someone else would get more use out of such an elaborate tool.”

Megatron couldn’t resist a satisfied smile as Orion continued to admire the tablet in his digits. He struggled to keep his pride from overflowing at the reaction he was receiving. “It’s yours to keep, Orion. It would be left to merely sit in storage if you didn’t accept it.”

“Well… thank you very much, Megatron. I will treasure this gift.” Orion finally looked up from the tablet and beamed at Megatron. The Decepticon leader couldn’t help the corner of his mouth from curling upwards as he stared back into Orion’s soft optics, something foreign stirring inside him once again.

“Where did you acquire this note taking tablet?” Orion asked once again.

“Ah,” Megatron stammered, “It’s not important, it’s been so long I’m sure I couldn’t remember even if I dwelled on it.” Before Orion could press further, the bigger silver mech tore his gaze away from his friend and began heading towards the exit. “Now, it pains me to cut this conversation short, but we do not wish to keep Knockout waiting.”

“Yes, of course.” Orion quickly turned to Soundwave and called out, “It was good to see you again, Soundwave,” before following Megatron out of the command deck.

Soundwave did not acknowledge Orion’s goodbye, instead turning back to the main console and resuming his work.

- - -

“Well, if it isn’t our newest colleague.” Knockout greeted cheekily, data pad in servo.

Megatron and Orion had just stepped into the medical bay and found Knockout standing just under one of the main overhanging lights. His illustrious finish shined brighter than usual, as if it had just been touched up. Beside the medic was a much larger blue and white plated bot that was leaning against a medical berth. This bigger bot has an orange faceplate that was lit with a smile as he respectfully stood up at attention.

“Nice to meet you, Orion” The blue and white bot welcomed gruffly before sharing a friendly wave. “I’m Breakdown, Knockout’s assistant, and professional Vehicon corraler. I look forward to showing you what we do.”

Orion takes in Breakdown’s robust frame and curious optic patch. Perhaps a consequence of fighting the Autobots? Usually bots could purchase replacement replica optics that were custom made to fit with their respective components, however even then there were long wait lists and the procedure was expensive. Many bots opted for patches to conceal their missing optic as a more affordable alternative.

Besides the imposing exterior, Breakdown appeared friendly and not nearly as intimidating as Knockout was.

“The pleasure is mine.” Orion replied, observing the size difference between the two bots. Unlike Knockout’s dainty digits (that were seemingly perfect for precise work), Breakdown’s thick digits looked like they would easily snap a scalpel if he wasn't careful.

The ex-Autobot leader snapped his attention back to the conversation at hand. “I hope to learn as much as possible from both of you. I’ll try not to be a burden, as I am very unfamiliar with your lines of work.”

“No need to be so modest, we’ve seen you do some real-”

Breakdown was politely interrupted by Knockout loudly resetting his vocalizer and presenting a pointed digit in front of Breakdown’s faceplate.

“Ahem- what Breakdown means to say is- how we are sure an intellectual bot of your background will no doubt excel at wherever you put your processor to,” The red medic recovered smoothly. Breakdown chuckled a bit nervously and scratched the back of his helm.

“Yeah. exactly.” The bigger blue mech agreed hastily.

“Oh,” Orion was not expecting a sudden compliment about his intellect, especially from Knockout. “Thank you..?”

Breakdown and Knockout catch a glimpse of Megatron closing his optics in vexation before collecting himself. “I will leave you all to it,” the warlord huffed with a warning look directed at Breakdown.

“If you need anything, Orion, do not hesitate to request it.” Orion nodded in understanding, and the Decepticon leader thumped out of the room.

After the med bay door closed, Breakdown and Knockout’s posture relaxed with Breakdown leaning back against the medical berth once again.

“Well,” the red medic announced in a blunt tone. “Let’s try to knock this out.”

- - -

The rest of the solar cycle passed quickly. Orion listened to Knockout explaining how he sources various salves and how he often has to synthesize medication based on old records since Cybertron is no longer resource abundant. His processor spun as he attempted to take detailed notes, although he was impressed with how Knockout managed to keep all of the details in order.

At one point, Orion attempted to reach for a box of Vehicon parts at Knockout’s behest and had unknowingly knocked over a container of empty vials. The delicate glass was sent crashing to the floor from the second highest shelf in the storage room. Orion’s unfamiliarly large chassis was still a bit foreign to him, so he shamefully apologized and unconsciously braced for a harsh reprimand from Knockout- surely something along the lines of him needing those vials.

To his astonishment, Knockout merely responded with, “Ah, I knew I should have placed that vial unit somewhere else,” before reaching for cleaning supplies.

“Oh…” Orion awkwardly stood amidst the shattered glass holding the small container of Vehicon parts. “I once again would like to apologize for my uncoordinated movements. I’ll attempt to be more attentive in the future.”

In yet another twist, Knockout waved off Orion’s apologies. “If I reported Breakdown for every item he accidentally broke, he no-doubt would have been ‘let go’ a long time ago. Just place the crate next to the screws on the workbench,” he pointed with a dainty digit.

“It’s true,” Breakdown grunted from the main medical terminal. “I’ll just put in a request for another small crate of vials from inventory storage.”

Orion was relieved and grateful for both bot’s understanding. He carefully tried to maneuver out of the way as Knockout handed him the cleaning supplies. The red medic gave him a sassy remark about being lucky the vials didn’t land on his finish before returning back to the main room with Breakdown. While others may have been annoyed, Orion felt as though Knockout was extending him a courtesy he normally reserved for his assistant, which he couldn’t help but be thankful for.

Later on, Orion watched closely as Knockout gave the XL series of Vehicons a routine check up. To his confusion, Breakdown did not handle a single tool during the entire ordeal and instead maintained friendly conversations with each Vehicon. He would grab the occasional salve or energon shot at Knockout’s request, but never assisted directly with each check-up. It wasn’t until after the XL series of Vehicons left that Orion heard Breakdown rating each trooper’s mental state as Knockout recorded his findings. Orion suddenly realized that Breakdown was actually assessing each Vehicon’s mental state under the guise of friendly conversation.

“The troops are also very unnerved by Knockout for some reason,” Breakdown confessed. “Their fidgeting and inability to relax makes check-ups hard for Knockout to work, so that’s also why I’m here.”

The rest of Orion’s shift was filled with organizational duties and helping Breakdown replenish the med bay’s energon reserve, although he was only allowed to carry 3 cubes at a time per Knockout’s orders. Regardless, Orion found himself appreciating Breakdown’s affable conversations in between energon deliveries. Knockout’s directness was still very off-putting to him, but Orion could sense a good spark within Breakdown. Orion often found himself wondering how the good-natured warrior got along so well with the audacious medic.

- - -

The next solar cycle began with Breakdown personally escorting Orion from his hab-suite. “I was on my way over to Knockout's anyway, so I gave Steve and XL-571 an early break. Ready to go?”

Orion nodded earnestly, grateful to see a friendly familiar face. “Absolutely. In fact I had more questions for you…”

Breakdown proceeded to answer all of the procedural related questions Orion had, and even elaborated on the Vehicons.

“Yeah, the Vehicons and Eradicons are often treated as mindless drones by most. I think it’s ‘cause they aren’t forged from the Well, and we can always forge more.” Breakdown admitted absentmindedly. “Plus, they always get the grunt work, so I don’t blame them for not being the most zealous bots. It’s pretty thankless work after all.”

Orion’s metal brows furrowed, “But… they are living and sentient, are they not?” The red and blue mech recalled how the Vehicons he had met displayed various emotions, just like any Cybertronian.

“Oh, definitely.” Breakdown agreed. “They all have their own personalities, it just takes a bit for them to show their true colors. They don’t show them as often as you’d think since the Autobots usually terminate them on sight. Many don’t get to remain online for very long.”

The response made Orion’s spark fall. “That’s disheartening to hear. They deserve to be respected as any sentient Cybertonian. The circumstances of their forging should not bar them from basic decency.”

The blue and white warrior stared back at Orion in stunned confusion. His memory bank cycled through various memories of Optimus Prime terminating Vehicons and Eradicons alike without mercy. In fact, Breakdown knew some troopers had been outright avoiding Orion on the Nemesis thanks to traumatic past experiences. However, Breakdown knew he had to play along to the best of his ability, and ignore the unintended hypocrisy of this situation.

“Uh, yeah… Yeah me too.” he finally stuttered.

Orion looked at Breakdown curiously, “... Did I say something strange?”

“No, no at all. It's just - you sound like a real politician when you speak like that.” Breakdown finally catches a train of thought to pursue. “But not in that corrupt politician way. I just knew a few old friends who would’ve readily agreed with ya.”

“Oh?” Orion’s optics cycled with intrigue.

“Yeah. I was assigned to construction and demolition before everything fell apart on Cybertron,” Breakdown recalled the past a bit distantly. “I was saving up to move to one of the old colony worlds, under the radar of course.” While the warrior joked in a hushed manner, Orion knew that immigrating from Cybertron to any of the old colony worlds was a grave offense. Getting caught often resulted in a lifetime sentence to a labor camp. He had seen articles on bots choosing to off-line themselves rather than getting caught by any of the Council's forces.

“We wanted a different life than the one we were forced into, but then all the political hubbub turned into real conflict.” Breakdown continued, “We had begun our transition, but we could only avoid the war for so long. I ended up scrapping the move, and joined the Decepticons because Megatron was clearly a bot of action.”

Breakdown’s field burned with determination as he spoke, “He knew the system had to go, and with all of the corrupt high caste bots joining the Autobots- it was obvious which side I needed to join. Knockout eventually agreed and we went together.”

Orion is touched by Breakdown’s story. He had no clue Knockout had joined the Decepticons because of Breakdown, or that they had known each other for so long. Maybe even as long as him and Megatron.

Well, actually they would have definitely known each other longer since Orion lost a few hundred meta-cycles.

“You and Knockout seem close. It makes sense, you’ve known each other so long.” Orion commented warmly, ignoring the small bit of jealousy that nipped at his spark.

“Haha, Knockout and I go way back! I can barely remember what life was like before I met him. In fact, I should tell you about the time-”

“Ahem- Breakdown.”

The familiar curt voice of a certain red mech drew both of their attention. To their surprise Knockout was standing outside the med bay with Soundwave, the two seemingly having a discussion. “May I request you both get started on today’s itinerary for the BN series of Vehicons? I’ll be just a few moments longer.”

Breakdown’s expression softened as soon as he saw Knockout, “No problem, we’ll have it ready for ya. You coming Orion?”

- - -

The next day, Orion successfully made his way to the medical bay without assistance. Since he had arrived a bit early, he decided to wait outside the medical bay for Breakdown. Today was to be his first time shadowing Breakdown, and he was looking forward to understanding how he managed such a staggering number of troops.

However, when Orion placed himself outside the med bay entrance to wait, the door silently parted and Orion began to overhear an amicable discussion between Knockout and breakdown. He could have interrupted, but they were mid conversation and Orion was curious to observe them. Both mechs were standing over a long table of cosmetic tools, side by side. Their backs just happened to be facing the entrance, allowing Orion to remain out of sight.

“...I haven’t heard anything myself. Even if Soundwave knew anything, it’s not like he would share it.” Breakdown answered.

“Tch. I’m sure we haven't seen the last of him. He’s many things, but stubbornness is unfortunately one of his strong suits.” Knockout flicked something into the trash bin nearby. “Can’t say I miss the attitude.”

“I don’t trust seekers.” Breakdown said suspiciously. “They are always… up to something.”

The red medic stopped working and shot Breakdown a look. Suddenly, the tenseness dissolved when Knockout’s cackling filled the room. The medic attempted to recover before giving Breakdown’s servo an unusually friendly shove. “Ha! Now that was just terrible.”

“What! I thought it was pretty good considering I made it up on the spot.” Breakdown jovially bent down to Knockout’s optic level, with a mischievous smile. There were maybe only a few inches between their respective face plates, causing an already curious Orion to hang on every moment as if he was making a new discovery. Would Knockout smack Breakdown in the faceplate? Surely Knockout would have a scathing retort to fire at Breakdown?

But to Orion’s amazement, Knockout did neither. Instead, Knockout continued to smile before sneering again and playfully pushed Breakdown’s faceplate out of his personal space.

“Alright, get back to your post, Captain. Those Vehicons will make a ruckus without your supervision.” Despite the command, Knockout flashed Breakdown an award winning smile before his optics caught a glimpse of Orion at the entrance.

Realization washed over the red mech, as he tried to internally guess how long Orion had been watching them. Breakdown noticed Knockout’s reaction whipped around to see Orion had been waiting for him.

“Oh, h-hey Orion! I didn’t see ya there,” he exclaimed trying to hide his nervousness. “Let’s get going.”

Chapter Text

To Orion’s disappointment, Megatron had to cancel their first in-person debrief due to construction issues with the current space bridge project. Apparently a part of the tunnels that connect the energon mine to the space bridge cavern had caved in on itself, and the biggest bots were needed to move rubble and reinforce the tunnel. As a result, Breakdown and Megatron were the obvious choices for the job. Megatron was especially needed due to his extensive knowledge of underground systems… Knowledge he acquired from his time slaving away in the tunnels and mines of Cybertron during the Age of Wrath.

“What are the odds such knowledge would prove useful on a foreign planet,” Orion mumbled to himself. Megatron’s previous status as a miner for energon and precious resources burned at the edges of Orion’s memory. His dear friend had come a long way since then, choosing a name for himself rather than keeping the designation of “D-16.” The thoughtful Orion currently sat alone in his hab-suite at his spacious data desk, ruminating on the past.

He was instructed to simply send a report of what he learned to Megatron’s personal channel. Orion had intended to forward over his handwritten notes, but decided to retype them into text for convenience. However, he found that the gifted tablet actually had a function to convert handwritten notes into text. Orion couldn’t help but beam at how efficient the process was and decided the tablet was becoming one of his most prized possessions. He would have to thank Megatron again sometime. However, it may have to wait until the next debrief.

With a few taps at his personal terminal, Orion had submitted the report and began opening the last energon supplement Knockout had prescribed him on his first solar cycle aboard the Nemesis. Since then, Orion had been improving and no longer felt the throbbing pain above his spark chamber.

The thought unconsciously led to him touching his chest plating, and wondering how anything, let alone a matrix, could have been shoved inside his chest without causing great discomfort. His subspace was not located in his chest- at least not as he recalled. Curiosity lingered in his processor until he finally relented. Orion placed the energon supplement back on the storage shelf and made his way to the private washroom in the corner of his hab-suite.

The large mech sheepishly closed the washroom door and turned on the lights to reveal a spacious washroom. Orion strode up to a reflective glass panel mounted on the wall and stared back at his reflection.

“My wounds have seemingly healed… so investigating should not cause any harm.” the red and blue mech reasoned out loud, as if to convince himself everything would be alright.

Yet, Orion’s digits nervously lingered near the top border of his chest plates. His processor was reluctant to unlock his hinges and view his internal structure for fear of… something he could not name.

It’s just my internal system. They are my own, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
…

My whole chassis has changed, it would be expected if my internal systems were slightly different.
…
…
But what if I find something wrong?

His blue optics scanned his chest anxiously, as if he hoped to glean something without having to move his plating. He needed to know if he still looked the same on the inside, or if he truly was different. After a stretch of clicks, Orion finally braced himself and unlocked his hinges. His panels began rearranging themselves to reveal his internal systems. His windows lifted upwards while his red plating repositioned itself farther below and to the sides.

The sight he was greeted with caused Orion’s optics to cycle in disbelief. “No…”

Orion's familiar dark gray internal systems and circuity had been entirely replaced by expensive chrome supports and reinforced cables. The round core of the matrix pulsed softly at the center, docked firmly into the chrome supports. His internal systems looked to have been entirely reformatted to accommodate the shape of the matrix. His spark chamber was completely obscured by the matrix and its components. The whole arrangement appeared alien, manufactured, and deeply unsettling.

What did they do to me!?

Orion’s fuel lines pulsed rapidly, and the washroom began to close in around him. He wanted to look away from his reflection, but he couldn’t take his optics off the unnatural sight of his new internal systems arrangement. His digits began to shake and he felt light helmed while struggling to maintain his balance.

This would have been such an invasive procedure! Orion’s thoughts began to race uncontrollably. Did nobody try to stop them? Did I go along with this willingly? Was I manipulated into agreeing? Did anyone even ask me? Was I forced-

That thought was the breaking point, and Orion’s knees had met the floor of the washroom with a loud clang. He vented heavily and felt ill, as if he had been infused with tainted energon. He laid there on his knees, his chest plating still parted, and struggling to regain control of his thoughts for an indecipherable amount of time.

“This can’t be right,” Orion choked between vents. This doesn’t feel real. Waves of anxiety and doom continued to crash into Orion. At one point he did manage to close his chest plating and lock his hinges, but it took two pathetic attempts.

Finally, after what felt like cycles, Orion began to control his venting and exhaustion took hold of him. He sat with his backside leaned against the reflective panel and absentmindedly stared at the empty wall ahead of him.

There was no one Orion could ask about the circumstances of his… augmentation. There were no ex-Autobots or spies aboard the vessel he could question. Knockout might be able to explain how the surgeons and scientists may have implemented his augmentation, but the thought of even asking such a personal question was humiliating. And sharing such a thing with Megatron might only cause his dear friend more discomfort.

Orion continued to sit on the cold floor, painfully trying to recall anything from his time after the High Council meeting, but it was just as indecipherable as before. He could only grasp glimpses of moments; the skyline of Iacon, walking in step with Megatron, a massive room with tall windows … and darkness.

He should have just taken the energon supplements and powered down when he had the chance.

- - -

As the days passed by, Knockout and Breakdown became more trusting and comfortable with Orion's presence. Amidst the Vehicon check-ins, vessel patrols, and energon deliveries, Orion began to paint a clearer picture of the Decepticon dynamic. Everyone contributes to the cause in their own specialized way, with little chances to interact with others outside of their field. The Vehicons did as they were told, Soundwave remained primarily in the Command deck, Megatron usually accompanied him, and Airachnid had yet to show herself. The whole operation felt a bit cold, except for the private moments with Breakdown and Knockout.

In time, Orion began to to pick up on the little gestures of closeness: the way Knockout's field brightens when Breakdown enters the med bay, the way Breakdown works his schedule to make room for "buffing with Knockout," Knockout’s seemingly limitless patience for his assistant, and how Breakdown always jumps to Knockout’s defense if anyone tries to imply anything negative about his partner's interest in Earth culture. In some rare and fleeting moments, Orion would catch the small servo touches and concern they have for the other's well being. It made Orion smile to himself as he recalled the moments, and he found himself wishing he could continue to shadow the two for longer.

However, Orion also noted that no other Decepticons seem to exhibit the same care for their comrades. Both Knockout and Breakdown made a point not to behave so amicably in front of others. It was something he kept to himself until their last day together arrived.

The three bots had established an efficient system for getting their daily tasks completed, and had finished three cycles before the med bay officially closed for the day. Breakdown had gotten a few days off from space bridge related work that luckily overlapped with Orion’s final day of shadowing them. The three mechs currently sat at an adjustable table previously used to clean medical supplies, but now the table had various cosmetic tools and products scattered about. Knockout and Breakdown decided it was time to share some general buffing knowledge with Orion since, “Every bot ought to know the basics.” At this moment, Knockout and Breakdown were ardently explaining the different products needed and how to apply them.

Orion had been nodding along with the whole tutorial, entertained by their unintentionally humorous display. Eventually, Breakdown decided that they had exhausted Orion’s audials enough to last a lifetime, and dissuaded Knockout from giving a live demonstration.

“Thank you for generously sharing your workspace with me,” Orion began. “And for your patience with all things.”

“Aww, don’t make this sappy Orion,” Breakdown jokes, “We’ll be here, we just won’t see each other as much. But who knows, maybe they’ll make you my assistant if I praise you enough on the back end.”

Knockout chuckled and shook his helm, sitting beside his assistant. “With his tenacity for notes? They’ll probably coop him up with Soundwave.”

The thought of being cooped up in a room with the silent Soundwave day after day made Orion shiver. He didn’t mind silence, but Soundwave’s disdain for him would make working alongside him a challenge. While he may not be as effective, he would much prefer to work with the two bots in front of him.

"I have been meaning to mention,” Orion interjected, “that I particularly appreciated the warm comradery you both display. It is not something I witness amongst the other Decepticons."

Knockout and Breakdown stopped altogether, then looked at each other a bit embarrassed. Knockout mimicked a cough and awkwardly rubbed his servo against the back of his helm.

"Right, that,” the red mech lowered his voice. “It would be best not to speak of such things openly on the Nemesis. You know how the more... goal oriented bots can be." Knockout’s tone was steady and laced with warning.

"I wouldn't expect anything welcoming from the others, Orion,” Breakdown elaborated, attempting to offer Orion more context. “We wouldn't be seen as valuable if we didn't show our tough exterior first, and hide everything else behind closed doors."

"I see,” Orion furrows his brows. “Perhaps you are right... however Megatron is a charismatic leader and one who feels deeply for those underserved like himself. I'm certain if he knew, he would be open to enacting change on the Nemesis."

Another shocked silence befell the group before Knockout’s laughter filled the room. Breakdown only managed a chuckle before he realized how serious Orion was. He gave Knockout a little nudge as if to say, ‘hold on, he’s serious’ and tried to reason once again.

"I think you knew Megatron as someone a lot less... jaded before the war. The way you talk about him has honestly had us confused for some time. You know a side of Megatron that we’ve never seen." The big blue bot was trying to speak as tactfully as possible.

Orion dropped his defenses and slumped a bit. “I can’t help but presume that I am partially responsible for that, given my time as Optimus Prime.”

Knockout and Breakdown felt the mood shift as they noted the remorse in Orion’s voice- choosing to stay silent as Orion continued.

“Megatronus was always a deeply feeling mech. While the pits and mines forced him into a life of aggression and turmoil, he never wavered in his commitment to improve the lives of others.” Orion’s optics narrow as his voice takes on a fiery edge.

“Yes, he’s always had to show his strongest side to everyone, especially his detractors. But his will comes from a place of fierce resolve for his beliefs” He frowned. “I can’t help but feel that my absence and adversarial role as Optimus Prime pushed Megatronus into a dark place.” Orion slumped even further in his seat. “One he cannot come out of.”

A dazed silence followed Orion’s miserable declaration. The two mechs across from him eventually blink and Knockout finally spoke up, “That’s… a lot to consider...”

“H-hey, I’m sure there were lots of other factors, too.” Breakdown proposes. “Besides, Megatron wouldn’t have brought you aboard if he didn’t want you around.”

Internally, Knockout was relieved his partner did not mention ‘trust,’ as Megatron is clearly very weary of Orion harboring suspicions. They may not be near trust yet. However, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to allow Orion to continue to sink deeper into this pool of guilt he was currently drowning in. A humble bot like Orion might think his dear friend Megatron would be better off without him and do something rash.

And still, Megatron desires for Orion to believe in the Decepticon cause above all else to ensure he stays willingly. And there was that big rule- no ‘concoction’ of lies- recalling the recording Soundwave had shown him. Knockout had no knowledge of Orion and Megatron’s relationship on Cybertron to draw from, so he would have to approach Orion’s situation with honesty to his position.

“Bots change,” The red medic began, a contemplative digit resting on his faceplate. “And sometimes there’s nothing we can do. However, blaming yourself doesn’t change anything either.”

Breakdown and Orion were now curiously staring at Knockout.

“It may take a long time to reconnect with this old version of your friend, but luckily, you have nothing but time now,” Knockout looked up to lock optics with Orion. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll find new goals or interests, but at least you're standing alongside your friend now. And maybe that’s all that really matters to Lord Megatron.”

A second stunned silence befalls the group, but this time with Orion and Breakdown sitting in dismay, absorbing Knockout’s insight. Knockout bristled as he realizes he may have gotten too sappy himself, and suddenly begins speaking fast and casually to deflate the heavy atmosphere.

"And if you do speak to him, don't mention our names if you value your paint job. We don't want Megatron misunderstanding your good will as our weakness." The red mech warned with a look.

With a smile spreading across his faceplate, Breakdown’s whole demeanor changed to that of playful teasing seeing Knockout nearly flustered. Instead of pushing Knockout with a tease, he chose to agree. "Yeah, we were already on thin ice with the last commander- with our grounded alt-modes and whatnot. Don't need any more negative attention."

Before Orion could register the change of mood, Knockout and Breakdown had begun reminiscing on old exploits during the reign of the previous commander. They casually joked and scoffed at each other without a trace of ill will in their comebacks. Orion relaxed just a bit considering Knockout’s advice.

The flamboyant medic with an inclination for talk was right, things may never be the same as they were before- but that wouldn’t keep Orion from trying.

If such an unusual and benevolent pair could persist in such stifling circumstances, then surely there was hope for himself.

- - -

Breakdown and Knockout stepped alongside each other as they made their way to the hab-suite block. They had long since said their goodbyes to Orion after their shifts, and Knockout had chosen to accompany Breakdown to the upper levels to check in on the troops assigned to the energon vault. As usual, the troops assured Breakdown that they didn’t need anything and so the two bots made their way back to the lower deck’s northeast block. They continued their friendly conversation, despite both feeling eager for a deep recharge.

“You know, those Vehicons would send you a comms message if they really needed something,” Knockout commented. “It’s not like they don’t have your PHF.”

“That’s true, but I like to check in on them anyways. It’s like a physical reminder that I’m not all talk,” Breakdown answered breezily.

Knockout rolled his optics, but couldn’t resist a half smile, “You may be the only one on this whole ship who bothers with them.”

“Hey, not true. Not anymore, atleast.” Breakdown looked down at the red medic proudly, “Orion truly believes that they are just as valuable as the rest of us, gave me a whole speech and everything.”

“Really? Well then… Things may be getting interesting,” Knockout declared roguishly.

Both mechs slowed their pace to a stop as they both received a direct message from Soundwave. They glanced at each other questionably before opening the comms message.

.:Space Bridge Project damage assessment completed. 1 power source has been deemed irreparably damaged. Additional source needed.

Location: Human Military Research Lab. Quadrant AN-508. Compatible power source confirmed.
Retrieval Team: Knockout, Breakdown, 1.5 ground units, 1 aerial unit.
Departure time: 0.75 Cycle
Acknowledgement required:.

“Huh, didn’t we hit that place two deca-cycles ago?” The blue mech asked out loud.

“Yes, for the same power source,” Knockout sighed. “He really couldn’t just send the usual troops? It’s about time for a well-earned recharge.” the medic growled.

“Unfortunately, most of the usual field units are being sent to the space bridge mine to give the miners a break from cleaning up the collapsed tunnels. Not to mention Megatron is still up to his helm in reconstruction plans- which is probably why Soundwave is sending us with such a small squad.”

Knockout gave another defeated huff, “Maybe Mr. tall, dark, and silent could get his digits dirty once in a while.”

“Hey,” Breakdown put a servo gently on Knockout’s shoulder bits trying to lighten the mood. “What if we didn’t try to sneak our way in this time? Might be more fun if we happened to get the attention of a certain, leader-less squad.” He suggested with a playful glint in his working optic.

“At this hour? Hm, Breakdown, you really are a troublemaker,” Knockout purrs with a grin creeping across his faceplate. “Kicking them while they're down sounds just too irresistible.”

- - -

The plan began without a hitch. Upon being bridged to the research facility, Breakdown, Knockout, and the rest of the troops wasted no time freely firing upon the compound. Rather than returning fire, the human inhabitants seemed more interested in fleeing with their lives and began evacuating the facility. As a result, Breakdown easily managed to tear open the structures to find his prize, a familiar cylindrical power source.

“Nothing to it!” Breakdown announced triumphantly as he reunited with Knockout, the research facility engulfed in flames behind him.

The familiar whirring sound of a ground bridge opening caught Knockout and Breakdown’s attention simultaneously. The bridge exploded open and three Autobots crashed to the earth below. The deep voice of Bulkhead called out, “Drop the power source!” while the silhouettes of Arcee and Bumblebee trailed behind him.

Knockout smirked widened as he taunted, “Aren’t you missing someone?” while the Autobots readied their internal weaponry. Their amusing plan had worked like a charm, and the look of angry frustration on the faceplates of the Autobots tickled something within Knockout. The Decepticon warrior and medic made no move of their own, as the small battalion of Eradicons flew overhead and opened fire upon the Autobots.

With the Autobots now engaged, and making concerningly quick work of the Eradicons, Knockout sent an urgent comms to Soundwave, “Ready for that bridge!”

Within mere clicks, a ground bridge opened behind Knockout. Breakdown gave the Autobots a sarcastic smile before wasting no time to escape through the bridge.

Knockout, however, was feeling more mischievous than usual. He decided to take one last jab at the Autobots while he had the chance. He glanced at the group before catching Arcee’s gaze amidst the Eradicon’s lasers. “We’ll be sure to tell the big O, you said hello!” And with a mocking salute, Knockout ran back after Breakdown.

Bumblebee and Bulkhead ignored Knockout’s taunt and continued to fire back at the Eradicons, but Arcee immediately transformed in irritation and raced after the red medic.

“Arcee!” Bulkhead called out, but the blue mecha didn’t slow down. Instead, she picked up the pace and raced into the ground bridge just as it was closing.

She had gained so much momentum that by the time she entered the Nemesis she whizzed between Breakdown and Knockout, before crashing to the floor and bolting around a corner.

“Scrap,” Knockout cursed, knowing that this reaction was entirely his doing.

The pair could hear Arcee violently crashing into Vehicon troopers down the hall and demanding, “Where’s Optimus? Answer me!” Followed closely by the howls of troops and the crushing of living metal.

Breakdown recoiled, “We’re fragged.”

- - -

“What?” Megatron shouted as the live recording of Arcee barreling through the corridors of Nemesis played on Soundwave’s visor. She was making quick work of every trooper that engaged her, leaving a trail of off-lined bodies of Vehicon behind her.

Megatron had returned to the Nemesis very briefly to refuel on energon and update the Mining tunnel layout for Soundwave’s records. He was just about ready to brush off Airachnid’s unnecessary questions and return to the space bridge mine when Soundwave presented him with an urgent feed.

“Arcee,” Airachnid chanted as she stretched her 6 arachnoid legs and padded forward. “Allow me to welcome her aboard.”

“No!” The Decepticon leader stretched his servo in front of Airachnid to obstruct her. “If Orion so much as lays optics on another Autobot, let alone hear their desperate pleas, everything he currently believes will be called into question.”

Megatron gave Airachnid one last warning glare before he turned to Soundwave, “See to it that Arcee is escorted off this ship immediately.”

Soundwave nodded deeply and turned to make his way through the exit. Megatron didn’t particularly care how Soundwave removed Arcee, he simply trusted that his communications officer would find the most ideal method of removing the intruder before Orion could lay optics on an ex-comrade.

“With all due respect, my lord. I could have escorted Arcee off the vessel myself. I’m certain Soundwave’s efforts are best utilized managing our essential communications.” Airachnid asserted with an annoyed edge to her voice as she positioned herself in front of the larger silver mech.

“All things considered, Airachnid,” Megatron shot back, “Soundwave is the most ideal choice for this task, given your infatuation with said two-wheeler.”

- - -

In hab-suite AQ7, Orion had finished one last scan of his data pads and was laying down for a recharge. It was a satisfactory day- no, maybe even a great one. He felt proud of his contributions and newfound understanding of how Knockout and Breakdown contributed to the Decepticons. Tomorrow he would be assigned to an Eradicon captain and continue his field work from a new perspective. He was a bit nervous, but excited to meet other members of the team. Breakdown assured Orion that he put in a good word for him with both captains, which he was grateful for.

But such thoughts would have to be put to rest, as he wanted to be fully operational for tomorrow. Orion adjusted himself onto his berth until he found a comfortable position. He repositioned his extremities a few times before finally offlining his optics in an early attempt to recharge. Within a few moments, he felt the heavy lull to recharge begin to set in.

However, a distant scuffle of metal registered in his audials- distracting him. He tried to ignore it, but then another followed. Orion onlined his optics and tried to identify what could possibly be the source, all the while thuds of distant pede falls in the corridors grew louder.

Did some of the Vehicons get into a physical scuffle?

Orion waited a moment as the sound of pede falls faded away. He rested his helm back down for only two clicks before he heard the distant clanging of armor again, this time accompanied by muffled yelling.

“What is going on…?” Orion sat up sharply and checked his comms- nothing new.

The ex-autobot leader made his way to his data desk to check the communications grid- also nothing.

Another far off crash led Orion to believe whatever was happening on the upper levels was unplanned. The commotion only got louder, indicating that whatever scuffle taking place must be a pretty serious one. In all of his time aboard the Nemesis, Orion had never seen or heard a disagreement escalate into anything physical.

Was something very wrong?

- - -

Soundwave walked in an unhurried manner to the corridor intersection Arcee would approach in approximately 31 clicks. He could hear the screeching of her tires and the distant whirring of her engine a few corridors away. The communications officer had already decided that bridging Arcee off the ship would be the most efficient and painless way to ‘escort’ Arcee off the premises. However, he had yet to decide where he would be sending her.

The previous coordinates had been on earth, so to waste less time, Soundwave opted to simply move the coordinates elsewhere on the same planet. He checked the previous coordinate history to review his options.

Human Military Research Lab. Quadrant AN-508
Forest Mine. Quadrant AN-124
Mountain Mine. Quadrant GC-326
Evergreen Region. Quadrant DB-022
Desert Region. Quadrant AX-209

None of the recent options interested Soundwave, so he scrolled much farther back until one particular location peaked his interest.

Arctic. Quadrant BZ-107.

... yes.

If he had been an emotional bot, he would have snickered to himself. This was one of his least favorite climates on earth, especially for those with thinner plating and smaller frames. It was a perfect place to send this particular Autobot.

Arcee’s rumbling engine grew louder as Soundwave approached the intersection. Only a few more clicks the two mecha would be facing each other.

At that moment, a security notification pinged within Soundwave’s HUD. He investigated the source and found that Orion Pax was walking the halls curiously. No doubt disturbed by Arcee’s entrance.

Even worse, he was only a corridor away from his destination.

Soundwave ran a second evaluation and concluded that there was a chance he could stay the course and still send Arcee on her frigid way without Orion having to bear witness. However, given Orion’s current pace, it would be close. So, Soundwave decided he would benefit from using some of Arcee’s fiery nature against her to reach his goal.

Instead of stopping just around the corner to surprise Arcee, the communications officer continued forward until he was in the middle of the hallway intersection within Arcee’s clear view. As expected, his causal presence was enough to cause Arcee to rev her engine and race towards him faster.

Arcee would now reach him just 4.5 clicks before Orion could turn the corner.

Perfect.

The dark blue motorcycle screeched towards the communications officer at a speed that would out race most Cybertronians. However, Soundwave was in no rush, and chose to activate the bridge at the last possible moment. He selected the necessary prompts and hovered over the launching command for one satisfying click before activating the bridge.

Energy crackled mere inches from his visor before the ground bridge exploded before him, perfectly engulfing Arcee as she lept in his direction. He immediately began the power down sequence, and the bridge began dissolving, trapping the Autobot in the arctic tundra.

The Nemesis was his domain. Removing the undesired filth from his territory was as satisfying as-

“Soundwave?” Orion’s voice called out as if right on cue, “I heard a commotion. Has something happened?” Soundwave’s senses had been so focused on bridging Arcee as swiftly as possible he hadn’t heard Orion’s heavy steps, but with his surveillance access he hadn’t needed to.

Your turn will come, the communications officer thought as he chose to ignore Orion’s question entirely and return the way he came.

Thankfully, Orion was bewildered enough to not follow him or keep asking questions. Surely, he would find a Vehicon or two on his way back to the Hab-suite block to interrogate instead. Soundwave truly didn’t care what he did.

While approaching the command deck, Soundwave’s thoughts drifted back to the arctic. He found himself imagining Arcee's reaction upon realizing she had been given a free trip across that beloved planet of hers. How upset she would be thinking she must have been so close to finding her dear leader. He almost wished he could have seen it himself.

Almost.

- - -

The next solar-cycle, Orion was eager to ask his escort Vehicons about the commotion last night. At first they only provided vague answers about a retrieval team that returned with issues upon their return. The bigger red and blue mech continued to press his escorts with different versions of the same question until the meeker of the two Vehicons finally relented.

“The team encountered Autobots! One of the faster ones managed to follow them through the ground bridge.” The Vehicon trooper shuddered at the thought. “They made a mess and managed to take out a lot of troops before Soundwave took care of them.”

“Steve! We weren’t- ugh, forget it.” His partner groaned as he turned to Orion, “We didn’t want to tell you because we don’t want you to feel bad, Sir.”

Orion’s shock twisted into sadness as he absorbed the information. Soundwave’s silent treatment from the previous night made more sense, even if Soundwave was never one to answer a question directly. Knowing that some Vheicons had lost their lives in the assault only festered more bitterness inside him.

“And what of the Autobot? Were they captured?” Orion asked quietly, hoping death hadn’t been met with more death.

“No, Soundwave just bridged them somewhere else when they tried to attack him.” Steve explained. “Trying to fight Arcee directly would have just caused a bigger mess.”

“Steve!” the partner chastised in an urgent hush.

“Ah, sorry!” Steve shrunk back defensively, “Forget I said anything.”

The conversation eventually dissolved into something more casual while Orion fell further into his thoughts. Guilt nipped at his spark, as he remembered the crashing sounds from the night before and he followed his escorts in silence.

Eventually, they arrived at the landing deck level and Orion was presented to his assigned Eradicon captain. The captain was waiting outside the Nemesis’ deck entrance with a servo placed confidently on his waist. He nodded at Steve and his fellow escort in greeting.

“I’ll take it from here. You both can return to your morning patrols,” the captain directed in a deeper baritone.

“Yes sir.” Steve and his companion replied in unison before returning the way they had come. Just before they were out of audial shot, Steve turned back around and added “Good luck, Captain.”

The comment confused Orion, but when he turned to question the captain he wasted no time with introductions.

“Good morning, Orion. My name is CL-120, but since you seem to respect nicknames, you can call me Cyl,” the Vehicon captain explained casually.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cyl. I hope I can eventually be of some assistance to you.” Orion greeted in a civil manner, though he was a bit curious by how relaxed Cyl seemed compared to most other troops. It usually took some prolonged exposure for Vehicons or Eradicons alike to warm up to the ex-Autobot leader.

At a glance this captain appeared identical to other Eradicons, if not for his demeanor and vast collection of scrapes and cuts that remained untreated. Additionally, a slender cut ran along the right side of his faceplate and a much longer one along the left of his torso. Orion could only conclude the weapon used against him must have been an extremely sharp blade to inflict such clean cuts. The slices appeared to have been delicately welded back together to keep the armor’s integrity.

Cyl’s status as captain was no doubt earned through an ability to survive more conflicts than the average soldier.

“We’ve heard many things about you, but I’ll have to see for myself,” Cyl remarked as he turned to lead Orion outside of the Nemesis and onto the landing dock.

Cyl began reciting how he manages the flying troops with patrols and evaluates who is best for which duties. He would expressively gesture towards other Eradicons flying overhead as he spoke, and offer to explain things differently if they did not make sense at first. While taking notes on his trusty tablet, Orion could not help but notice some troops refused to make optic contact. Even stranger, some found reasons to excuse themselves elsewhere before Cyl and Orion could properly cross paths. The avoidance was not exclusive to Eradicons, as even Vehicons inside the Nemesis were doing the same when Cyl escorted Orion back to the lower decks after their shift. The behavior became so distracting that Cyl was even forced to speak up as a pair of hallway monitors nearly tripped over each other trying to turn an abrupt corner.

“We don’t bite, ya know.” Cyl called out in thinly veiled exasperation. The only answer he received was the padding of retreating pedes growing more distant.

Cyl’s acknowledgement of the strange behavior forced Orion to release a sad ex-vent he had not realized he’d been holding. By the time Cyl escorted Orion back to the hab-suite block Orion had built up the courage to to finally ask the captain about the situation. He feared he already knew the answer.

“We are all still adjusting to a new normal around here, and rumors certainly don’t help anyone,” the captain began slowly, as if carefully picking out his words. “Some bots already have issues they are dealing with, and the excitement from yesterday just made some issues worse. Give them some time, they’ll come around. Eventually.”

Despite Cyl’s general answer, Orion could still connect the dots. The troops were wary of him, and maybe even blamed him for events of yesterday. Orion doubted verbally reaffirming his allegiance to the Decepticons with every wary Vehicon and Eradicon would do much to amend the situation, and it certainly would not stop the Autobots from acting as they pleased.

Orion’s downcast blue optics wandered to Cyl. The captain’s composed field and steady answers had been the only source of friendliness Orion had unknowingly clung to the entire day. Yet Cyl had the most battle damage of any soldier he had met thus far, which Orion would have incorrectly assumed would have made him the most hostile.

“Cyl, if you don’t mind me asking,” Orion hesitantly began, “Are you not aggravated in the slightest by my presence? Especially having been assigned to introduce me to the inner workings of your operation?”

“Hm? Well, if you stay here long enough, you would eventually learn how things work anyways.” Cyl seemed a bit confused by the question.

Orion gripped the tablet in his right servo tighter as he tried again, “I was more so referring to how most soldiers under the Decepticon Command hierarchy tend to receive me with apprehension. Yet you appear to be the lone exception.”

“Oh,” Cyl’s attention snapped to Orion’s glum expression as he understood his meaning. “Breakdown did put in a few good words for you, and he’s the only one in leadership I trust. But I’ve also heard my fairshare of concerns.”

Cyl raised a servo in emphasis, “It’s like I said earlier, I’ll just have to see for myself what kind of bot you are. Simple as that. Although, I will need to know you a lot longer than just one shift to come to a decision.”

Orion felt his spark lift a bit at Cyl’s attempt at humor with his dry delivery. “Of course, I would not expect such an evaluation so soon.”

Feeling Orion’s field lighten up, Cyl proudly strode forward as they turned to the final corner to the hab-suite block. Once they found Orion’s suite, Cyl turned to Orion with a final counsel. “Orion, I’m going to tell you something I wish someone told me when I first started working here.”

Orion’s lines prickled with confusion as Cyl pointed a dark gray digit towards his chest. “You keep being yourself and everyone else will figure it out.”

Orion’s spark swelled in appreciation as he processed Cyl’s words. “Thank you very much,” Orion murmured with sincerity. Cyl may be simple, but he was no fool. His straightforward nature was perhaps exactly what Orion needed today.

“It’s really no problem, and it’s my job after all.” Cyl assured. “If you need anything, and don’t want to bother anyone on the command team, you have my PHF.”

“I am in your debt, Cyl,” Orion gave Cyl a deep nod and cracked a small smile in thanks. “I wish you a pleasant recharge until tomorrow.”

“No problem, see ya then,” and with that, Cyl made strides back the way he came.

Orion continued to smile as he turned his attention to the keypad of his hab-suite and began inputting his updated passkey. Cyl was not too different from Breakdown, and that was a relief. Hopefully Cyl’s hab-suite was not too much farther-

Bzzt!

The smile on Orion’s face faded as the keypad displayed an error message. He shook his helm as if to clear his processor, he must have simply hit an incorrect input while daydreaming. Hence, he tried again- slower.

Bzzt!

Orion’s faceplate contorted in confusion as the keypad flashed crimson- indicating the passkey was incorrect. The ex-archivist was certain his updated passcode was 13213. In an attempt to solve the mystery, Orion activated his tablet and scoured his notes. Sure enough, the day he received the tablet he had noted his new passkey as 13213. With deep ex-vent, Orion held out his free servo and tried one last time - as steadily as possible.

1 - 3 - 2 - 1 - 3

Bzzt!

“Primus below…” Orion groaned in desperation. There must be something I’m missing.

The concerned red and blue mech double checked he was in front of suite AQ7 and waited a few clicks before trying the old passkey Megatron had shown him. This time he was met with a new error message; additional failed attempts will alert Nemesis security systems.

Alarm seized Orion’s struts, as his processor recalled the image of Soundwave working at the main command console reviewing streams of information provided by the ship’s systems. Soundwave was the last bot Orion wanted to ask for help from, especially given how pathetic it would make him look. Surely, there must have been some kind of issue with systems on the back end? The only two combinations he knew had failed him.

Orion reviewed his options… Knockout and Breakdown were most likely visiting Earth on one of their “cultural investigations,” as they called it. Megatron was still working long shifts at the space bridge mine, and Orion had yet to even meet Airachnid. Was there no one he could ask for assistance without causing an inconvenience?

Orion sighed in defeat and covered his face plate with his free servo before shamefully dailing Cyl’s personal hailing frequency.

.:Cyl, I would like to sincerely apologize for requesting that generous help you offered not even one half cycle ago:.

- - -

Two solar-cycles had passed since the excursion with Arcee, and Decepticon leader had returned to the Nemesis for a well-earned break. Megatron awaited Orion’s debrief in the command deck while a small group of Maintenance Vehicons conducted their routine console examinations. They would be finishing up soon, allowing for approximately half a cycle of peace before the night monitors began their shifts. Megatron specifically arranged for his debriefs with Orion to take place during this empty window to avoid as much eavesdropping as possible.

After his mega-cycles long engagements in the space bridge mine, Megatron’s cables were laden with soreness and his processor throbbed with exhaustion. He had been in a particularly bitter mood due to the nature of mining work, and the skittishness from the troopers only irritated him further. He wished for nothing more than to collapse in his familiar hab-suite, yet he was determined not to miss this rescheduled debrief with his old friend.

As he waited patiently for Orion’s arrival, Megatron had finished Soundwave’s daily event report and Airachnid’s report on Autobot sightings and behavior. Neither report had anything noteworthy, but Airachnid’s report oozed with thinly veiled boredom, resulting in the silver mech leaning his helm back in exasperation.

Airachnid was not fitting into her role of second in command as smoothly as he had hoped. While she mostly performed well on every task assigned to her- she had a tendency to ask questions that were particularly irksome. She also had no qualms sharing her displeasure in indirect ways.

Megatron felt the need to keep Airachnid at bay with busy work in the late hours so that she was forced to recharge during the day, when Orion was most active. While Orion seemed to be warming up the rest of the crew, he couldn’t help but feel that Airachnid would thoroughly unnerve Orion. Airachnid enjoyed making others squirm, and Orion would be a prime target for her sick fascinations. Yet, Megatron knew he could not keep the two mecha apart forever.

As if on cue, Orion’s heavier pede falls announced his arrival before the automatic doors could open. Megatron pivoted towards the entrance and was pleased to see Orion holding the gifted tablet in his left servo. To his surprise, Orion looked at the three Vehicons finishing up maintenance on the lower consoles and waved at them.

“Greetings. BN-177, Black Nickel, Gage- I hope you are well.” Orion greeted with a small smile.

The 3 maintenance Vehicons waved back at Orion while also risking a glance at Megatron standing at the main console. “Erm, as good as it gets, Sir. We’ll be finished here in a few moments,” the lead Vehicon called out while the others nervously returned to their work.

Orion seemed a bit disappointed by their short response, but turned his attention to Megatron, his smile unwavering. It had been a long time since they had properly spoken, and Orion was eager to finally debrief in person.

Megatron shoved aside his confusion with the whole exchange and opted to greet Orion as formally as possible. “Greetings, Orion. I appreciate your flexibility with the timing of this debrief, especially in regards to how late it is.”

The red and blue mech shook his helm politely, “It’s no inconvenience at all. If anything, I should be thanking you.” Orion noted the silver mech’s strained posture and how his sharp digits twitched occasionally from physical exhaustion. “You’re no doubt in need of a long recharge.”

“I will be just fine,” Megatron stated in tired annoyance. “Let’s proceed with the task at hand. Are there any noteworthy observations you wish to share?”

Without further direction needed, Orion activated the note taking tablet and began presenting his notes to the silver mech as if he was giving an academic presentation. Orion diligently summarized all of his work, and the tasks of those he shadowed and elaborated in areas he found particularly interesting. During the opening explanations, the maintenance Vehicons exited as quietly as possible.

While Megatron was already very familiar with the tasks assigned to everyone aboard his vessel, he was fascinated with how Orion presented everything from his clerical view. Orion seemed particularly keen on pointing out how those who perform certain jobs are often the ideal fit- but usually they have some kind of interest in the work they do. Orion pointed out that Breakdown will often reassign Vehicons to new positions if they do not seem content in their current position- which usually results in better performance, accuracy, and productivity. Orion finished his presentation with giving high praise to Knockout, Breakdown, and CL-120 “Cyl” for their skills and work ethic.

While Orion spoke, Megatron listened attentively and felt increasingly confounded by how well Orion was adjusting to life aboard the Nemesis. He seemingly got along well with most everyone he worked with, and has begun learning to identify some Vehicons apart from one another. Even going as far as to learning their nicknames.

The silver warlord did not expect Orion to be at odds with the Decepticons… but he also wasn’t expecting Orion to be on friendly terms with others so soon. He found himself staring in awe at how genuinely interested Orion was in all of the inner workings of the Nemesis. He noticed the way Orion would squint his optics when trying to recite specific number values from his notes, and how his free servo gestured to emphasize certain points in his presentation. At one point the tablet stylist nearly fell out of Orion’s servo due to his excited gesturing. The whole performance was endearing.

How long had it been since he had last seen Orion rambling so excitedly?

“...In conclusion, you are running quite the operation. I have appreciated having the opportunity to shadow the others so closely.” Orion finished proudly. “In fact, I was curious if I would ever have the opportunity to shadow you?”

The silver leader blinked in surprise as he returned to the present. “It’s not something I had considered, but certainly something we can add if you feel it’s necessary.” He answered automatically.

“I would very much like that,” Orion agreed as he turned off the tablet and mounted the stylus. “In fact, I look forward to it.”

… Wait. Shadow myself? Megatron realized he had agreed to something that may have unforeseen ramifications.

“Er, however, you would first have to finish your current schedule. Soundwave shoulders quite an extensive array of tasks, and shadowing him would no doubt take longer than most.” The silver mech added quickly.

“Of course, I’m willing to wait.” Orion affirmed, not letting the thought sully his mood. There was a momentary pause before Orion spoke up again, “Did I miss anything significant in my notes?”

Megatron suppressed a laugh before waving Orion off, “As if one of Iacon’s finest clerics could miss something significant. Excellent work, Orion. Your skills never cease to impress.”

The compliment made Orion’s faceplate lighten up with happiness. Getting such high praise from Megatron was like music to the audials and warmth for the spark. It felt like old times. He wanted to stay longer, maybe even ask Megatron if he wished to idly chat on the way back to the hab-suite block. It gave Orion hope, but he did not wish to overstep after everything had been going so well.

“Thank you, Megatron.” Orion thanked before continuing, “It was not obvious at first, but the Decepticons are quite a unique group with many personalities. I hope to help everyone as best I can, especially you. I'm sure you bear a heavy burden leading us all.”

The kind words from his old friend caused Megatron to stutter, resisting the reflexive urge to deflect the comment as if it was said sarcastically. Similar to Orion’s first day aboard, the silver mech had to remind himself Orion spoke earnestly.

However, this realization just made responding more complicated than it should have been.

“You are welcome..?” Megatron stammered before hastily resetting his vocalizer and beckoning Orion towards the exit. “I do have a few more reports to review, if you don’t mind. We can schedule our next debrief for 5 solar-cycles from today.”

Orion pushed down his urge to keep the conversation going and chose to oblige. “It's been a pleasure to debrief. I look forward to the next chance we have to catch up.”

“Yes, of course.” Megatron awkwardly responded as Orion began walking towards the exit. “Until next time.”

The command deck door whirred shut behind Orion and his steps faded. The room lay still as Megatron slowly turned his back to exit and waited. After a few moments, he erupted into booming laughter, his voice echoing throughout the empty room. His shoulders shook and his optics clenched shut as the laughter rolled out of him, laced with relief.

“Oh, Soundwave.” He mumbled in between laughs. “For once, I am grateful your concerns were misplaced.”

The imposing Decepticon leader stood up straight and strode towards the exit.

“Orion is fitting in better than we ever could have foreseen.”

Chapter Text

“Stop! Please! I’m only-”

Crash.

Desperate pleas were interrupted by swift punches colliding into the victim’s faceplate. Fresh dents remained where the blue plated fists had landed, and energon began to leak from newly formed crevasses. Within a few clicks, the red life light faded from the mining Vehicon’s split visor.

His assailant stands tall, ex-venting from strain and keeping their digits balled into a tight blue fist. Energon coated their servos, and dripped onto the rocky ground.

“Arcee, look out!” a deep voice called out.

The blue mecha whipped around just in time to see a Vehicon sentry rush headlong into her center of mass, sending them both crashing downwards. Before her back side could hit the ground below, Arcee used her attacker’s momentum to her advantage and thrust him away from her. She landed on her side while her assailant collided faceplate first onto the rough mine floor behind her.

Crash.

The small band of Autobots had infiltrated a Decepticon mine located in a mountainous forest region. Once they had safely disposed of the Vehicons outside the mine, they made swift work questioning the miner’s inside. Anyone who resisted, or proved to be too trigger happy, were promptly dealt with by any means necessary. It had become procedural to them after the third mine they cleared out, and while the extra energon was always appreciated, they were getting aggravated by the lack of relevant information regarding Optimus.

Arcee had become especially exasperated since her failed rescue attempt on the Nemesis. She would often replay the moments on the Nemesis and second guess her every move, imagining some kind of alternative outcome in which she could have at least identified if Optimus was on board or not. If she could do it again, she would try breaking down doors first before engaging any Decepticons.

And then there was Soundwave. Arcee grimaced every time she had replayed the moment in her processor. Her eagerness to run Soundwave over had led her straight into his trap, and rolling into the Arctic.

In the present moment, Arcee made no effort to hide her disdain. She grunted as she leapt towards the Vehicon that had tried to tackle her. Curiously, the Vehicon’s voice was full of static as it struggled to get to its knees.

“Need some help?” Arcee mocked just before she punted the Vehicon’s chest to force him onto his backside.

Her pede met unusual resistance as she kicked the Vehicon’s torso. There was an unsettling metallic scraping sound accompanied by snapping cables as the Vehicon’s mass finally relented and flipped over, revealing a sharply pointed boulder covered in fresh energon in the ground. The Vehicon lay with a newly formed hole in its chest, damaged cables and internal circuitry clearly visible beyond the ruptured purple plating. The unlucky fellow had landed chest first into a spear-like boulder and had been struggling to rip himself free.

“You’re fiery one. Why don’t you tell me where you’re keeping Opimus?” the blue Autobot threatened with a pede pressed to the trooper’s injured shoulder, ensuring he could not flee.

"He’s… ug-gh,” the injured Vehicon groaned as Arcee applied more pressure. His vocalizer was filled with static as if it had been damaged.

“F-fine! He's-z-s doing s-so good, he even treats-z-s us like living beings-s-s. Unlike yo- augh-!.”

Arcee moved her pede to the side of the Vehicon’s injured chest causing him to yelp in agony. She leaned closer and spoke harshly, “Back to the point, where are you keeping Optimus?”

The Vehicon stared back at Arcee, his vocalizer sounding more unstable with involuntary clicks injected into his speech, “I-I'm starting to t-think that the m-matrix m-made him your m-mindless p-p-puppet.”

The blue Autbot’s clenched fists began to shake, “The only ones mindlessly puppeting him are you ‘cons! Now answer the question.”

The injured trooper ignored her retort entirely. “I-If Orion-n was-z-s here- h-h-he would never c-cond-done t-terminating us-z-s like d-drones-z-s."

“You wanna say that again?” Arcee hissed in warning, her multi-toned optics burned like a scathing blue flame as if to smelt him where he lay.

“D-doesn’t matt-t-ter what I s-say… you’ll k-kill m-me anyways-z-s.”

Crash.

Crzzzt.

One very calculated punch to the neck cables forced the marred Vehicon off-line. Arcee slowly retracted her fist, trembling with anger. She once again strained to stand tall and calm the thundering pulsing of her lines. She closed her optics and ex-vented heavily. Nothing useful, again.

She took a few more clicks to regain her composure before opening her optics again to see how the others were fairing. The clashing of combat had faded and the small mine appeared to have been cleared of any active threats. The chassis of Miners and the occasional Vehicon littered the ground floor like fallen leaves. Bumblebee’s bright yellow plating was easy to spot near the mine’s entrance, weaving between fallen Decepicons as he made his way towards her.

Bulkhead’s heavy steps announce his proximity not far behind Arcee. He transformed his wrecking mace back into his usual servo before calling out to Arcee, “Anything?”

“No.” Arcee grunted, kicking over her victim. “Just some slag for brains.”

Bumblebee beeps as he reunites with the others, his expression alone indicating that he had come up empty as well.

“This can’t be right. How could none of them know anything about Optimus’s whereabouts?” Bulkhead wondered out loud.

“Some of them have to know something. That, or they’re lying.” Arcee muttered angrily. “We’ll keep targeting their patrols and mines until we find what we need.”

Bumblebee answered Arcee in a series of beeps and gestures, putting a gentle servo on her shoulders as he finished with reassuring optics.

“Bee’s right, one of these days we’re bound to find something,” Bulkhead added in support.

“If it was one of us who got captured then Optimus would have figured something out solar-cycles ago,” Arcee huffed. “I was so close on the Nemesis! A few more corners and I’m sure I would have found at least a clue.”

“Hey,” the bigger green bot interjected with unusual gentleness, “You got closer than any of us this whole time. We’ll keep trying, and we won’t give up.”

Bumblebee nodded in agreement, and reached out to give Bulkhead an encouraging servo squeeze.

“Thanks, Bulk…” was all Arcee could manage before attempting to change the subject. “Hey, when is our back up gonna show up?”

Bulkhead cracked a smile as if remembering something humorous, “Maybe if he’s on time, he’ll be back at base waiting for us.” He lifted a digit to his helm and commed Rachet, “All done here. Ready for a bridge when you are.”

Within moments, a familiar blue-green light crackled a few paces away from them before unfurling into a completed groundbridge. The three Aubots gathered all the visibly exposed energon crystals they could find and gave each other hopeful nods as they strode through the ground bridge.

After a series of clicks the groundbridge folded upon itself and dissolved, leaving behind the heavy scent of burnt living metal. The mine remained eerily silent as victims’ corpses were strewn across the stained bedrock. The freshly spilled energon highlighted the contours of their ruined frames, and served as the only light source remaining in the plundered mine.

An irregular dripping sound broke the silence of the dimmed chasm, followed by the twitching digits of a Miner who had been one of the first to fall. The miner’s circuits fizzled with static as a weak distress signal pinged from his location.

- - -

Orion awoke the next morning to a dreadful sight.

Upon making his way to the landing deck to meet Cyl, Orion’s path was blocked by a trail of Vehicons carrying the corpses and severed parts of terminated servant class Miners. Their bodies were to be smelted down for parts and salvaged for future cold constructions. According to the Vehicons, there were only two miners that were deemed potentially salvageable and had been taken to the medical bay.

Orion was mortified by the body count and the scent of exposed energon made him feel ill. All he could do was watch in distressed silence as the Vehicons made their way to the smelting chambers. Some tried to hide the stained body parts from Orion’s view as they passed by, while others merely stared ahead with empty detachment.

It was Cyl that ended up finding Orion as the last Vehicon passed by, unsettling realization dawning on him as Orion tore his optics away from the last corpse.

“Hey pal,” Cyl addressed with a hint of resignation. “Let's get going. We could both use some fresh air.”

Cyl led Orion to the landing dock outside the Nemesis and tried to answer his questions as best he could. Yes, the Autobots had raided one of their smaller mines and nearly terminated everyone on duty last night. No, there was nothing that could be done for those who perished. Maybe Knockout would be able to salvage that two miners in his care, but it was statistically unlikely given the damage. Yes, this is the common outcome whenever they are pitted against Autobot forces. Loss is so regular that many become desensitized or opt for memory corruption to keep moving forward.

Each answer only made Orion appear more crestfallen. He was unfocused for the rest of the day, and took half hearted notes. Cyl did his best to stay on schedule despite how distracted Orion was, and allowed for Orion to have longer breaks when possible. While some of his peers would have been annoyed with the ex-Autobot leader’s behavior, Cyl appreciated that Orion at least cared about their plight as Made to Order beings. He assumed it would only be a matter of time before Orion would begin to see them as disposable like most of the others on the command team, so he was in no rush to push Orion.

After their shift ended, Orion asked Cyl for an update on the two injured miners since the medical bay had been empty when they passed by. The Eradicon captain hesitantly checked troop specific Comm Grid channels and read an update with a strained ex-vent.

“You won’t like it,” Cyl began, “Only one Miner survived Knockout’s operation. He had to get most of his external armor replaced and is resting in his shared hab-suite with an energon feed.”

“I must speak to him,” Orion demanded. “I must apologize and offer any kind of support I can. It is the least I can offer.”

Cyl’s field inflated with alarm before he was able to forcefully retract it. He knew Orion meant well, but this was going a bit too far even for his comfort.

“Orion, wait. Think about this for a moment,” Cyl stopped walking entirely to focus on how best to explain his stance. “This Miner lost all of his comrades due to the Autobots’ desire to find you. He may blame you for nearly being terminated along with the others. It would be best to wait a while… He deserves a rest, right?”

“Yes, he absolutely does. However, he also must know that I do not wish harm upon him, nor do I condone the-”

“In time,” Cyl held up a servo in protest. “You can tell him anything you want after he’s recovered. I’m trying to help you here. If you want your message to be received as best as possible, then wait for everything to settle down first.”

Cyl was interrupted by a direct comms message. He looked away as his digits touched the side of his helm. It took a few moments before Cyl returned to the present.

“Sorry Orion, I need to go check on something. You know the way back to the hab-suite block by now?” Cyl asked, trying to change the tone of his deep baritone voice to something more light hearted.

“Yes, I do… I will see you tomorrow.” Orion checked his posture and waved goodbye.

“Good, we can continue tomorrow. See ya,” the Eradicon captain ushered himself down the corridors briskly, leaving Orion alone in the empty halls.

In no rush of his own, Orion allowed his shoulders to slump as he gradually made his way to the hab-suite block. If he couldn’t speak with the Miner, perhaps he could send a care package of sorts?

I have nothing to give, Orion lamented internally. Perhaps he could learn to make energon snacks that were once popular in Iacon?

Do they even have a mouth-like apparatus?

This was becoming an increasingly pathetic train of thought. He would just have to ask Breakdown and Cyl if they had any better ideas. For now, he would continue to replay the morning events in his processor.

In only one night, the Autobots had terminated an entire company of mining Vehicon’s whose sole purpose was to retrieve energon. Most of them weren’t fighters, yet they were sentenced to death. All in hopes to get a scrap of information about me.

Processing the outcome of the Autobots’ harmful actions stirred a deep and sickening anger within Orion. At the heart of the anger, he felt his ever growing guilt bubble to the surface. The guilt hung from his frame like a heavy weight trying to force him to his knees. He was unsure if he would ever be able to untangle himself from the Autobots, even if everyone on Nemesis were to accept him.

Orion grappled with his thoughts, trying to make sense of what he could do. Realization dawned on him, dissolving his anger into hopelessness. His pace slowed to a stop.

He was useless.

His shadowing did not prevent the unnecessary deaths of his fellow Decepticons. He wasn’t a fighter like Breakdown, no extensive medical knowledge like Knockout, and no archivist with a Hall of Records to utilize.

I don’t want to be useless.

Anxiety tugged at Orion’s spark as he glanced to the hall walls on either side of him. He longed for a window so that he could gaze out into the cosmos for answers. Even Earth’s sky would do, he just wanted to stare into the confounding expanse of the universe. Instead he felt confined within the dimly lit corridors. Alone with his daunting thoughts that threatened to swallow him whole.

He wished he were back on Cybertron, gazing out of his old hab-suite window at Cybertron’s night sky.

“Megatron… What would you do? What do you want me to do?”

- - -

Patchy hills surrounded Breakdown on all sides as he continued to patrol the perimeter of an energon mine a few miles away. Thick clouds obscured the sky entirely, but to Breakdown’s relief they did not appear to be rain clouds. The dirt roads in this area were not well maintained, so a rainfall would have resulted in a very muddy traveling experience. Breakdown traveled in silence until his internal HUD pinged notifying him of an incoming call.

“Hey, big guy,” The deep voice of a certain medic projected from his alt-mode speaker. “How’s your third patrol been treating you?”

The large blue mech was delighted to hear Knockout’s familiar voice, even more touched to have Knockout reach out first for once. “Heh, same old story and old aches. Luckily, no signs of any Autobots so far.” He paused for a moment before deciding to ask a question that had been on his processor all morning. “How’s Orion been?”

“Still moping like an abandoned turbo-fox,” the medic relented. “It doesn’t matter what I say, he acts like he’s the one who personally killed those Miners.”

Breakdown couldn’t help but quietly groan. There had been a few solar-cycles since the incident, but Orion continued to quietly avoid others. His demeanor only had minor improvements, and he was noticeably less talkative. Knockout and him had tried to invite Orion to their quarters for a Visco treat, or even watch a human film from their private collection, but Orion continued to turn them down.

“I want to say something to Lord Megatron, but I feel like that would only make things worse.” Breakdown admitted hopelessly.

“No doubt it might. I’m starting to think this plan to have him shadow fieldwork is working too well.” Knockout mused. “All watching and no action would make any bot feel useless.”

“Scrap,” the medic suddenly cursed under his breath. “I have to go, Soundwave wants me to check our fearless leader’s mineral levels once again. Let me know if you are still open to visit a drive-in theater tonight before Earth’s sun sets.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a few boring patrols to get me to refuse my favorite human pastime.” Breakdown chuckled, “I’ll swing by the med bay later.”

“I expect you to be looking your best,” the medic teased warmly before ending the call.

Breakdown couldn't help but smile internally. Crashing drive-in theaters was always a fun time, and the human movies just got more absurd with every viewing they attended. He was hoping tonight they would be showing another action-thriller, or maybe a fantasy adventure film with beautiful environments.

However, his daydreams were cut short when he saw a vehicle in his rearview. The blue mech adjusted his rearview mirror and his spark fell when he recognized a familiar green truck racing towards him.

Breakdown let out a loud groan, “The one time I really hoped for an uneventful patrol.”

Without wasting another moment, Breakdown swerved to rotate a full 180 degrees to face the approaching green truck and blink his headlights in acknowledgement. The green truck slowed to halt in front of Breakdown as the dirt and dust settled around them.

Their rumbling engines filled the silence until Bulkhead finally spoke gruffly, “Hey. I need to talk to you.”

Breakdown couldn’t help but scoff, “Of course you do. Are the mine raids getting too boring for ya?”

“I mean it, Breakdown. I’m alone.” the autobot insisted. “After that excursion with M.E.C.H. I figure you owe me one. Just hear me out and we’ll be even.”

“Wow, how charming of you.” Breakdown responded flatly. In any other instance, he would be eager to knock some sense into Bulkhead, but he was running on low after picking up so many patrols. Not to mention he was beginning to feel a bit protective over Orion while facing one of his old allies. “Unfortunately, I don’t have anything for you.”

“Wait!” Bulkhead took a moment to transform and directed a pleading look down at Breakdown. “You have to at least tell me he’s alright. I’ve barely been able to recharge when I don’t even know if Optimus is okay. You can tell me willingly, or I can try to knock some sense into you.”

Breakdown studied Bulkhead’s field and easily identified the worry and concern that lay under his flimsy threat. He weighed his options before finally sighing and transforming to meet Bulkhead’s flaring blue optics.

“He’s fine. No one’s hurt him, and I’m not just saying that to make you feel better,” the blue mech frowned, while pointing an accusatory digit Bulkhead’s way. “Just setting the record straight.”

“Thank the Allspark,” Bulkhead heaved in relief, ignoring Breakdown’s irritated tone.

With no reason to linger any longer than necessary, Breakdown began to turn away to eventually transform back into his alt mode. He needed to check in with the mine just in case this was some kind of diversion.

“Hold on,” sternness returned to Bulkhead’s voice as he tried to get Breakdown’s attention.

“You got your favor, what else do you want?” the blue mech snapped.

“If there is anything else you know you have to tell me,” the bulky Autobot pressed closer. “He means more to us than you’ll ever know. No sane mech just wakes up from a nasty hit and eagerly joins his sworn enemies.”

“Believe me, Bulk. I get why you’re so desperate to get Optimus back. He’s a good bot, and you’d hate to see anything bad happen to him,” Breakdown glowered in annoyance. “But Orion isn’t a fighter. He’s-”

“Orion?” Bulkhead echoed in disbelief. “Ratchet’s guess was right then. He really doesn’t remember anything.”

Hot realization stung Breakdown as he walked right into Bulkhead’s conversational trap. “Ugh, forget it. I’ve already said too much.”

“No, I don’t think you’ve said enough,” Bulkhead grabbed Breakdown’s servo and pulled roughly. “Are you ‘cons keeping him in some kind of dungeon? I’m sure your good guy act could only fool him for so long.”

“Keep your servos to yourself!” exasperation exploded from Breakdown’s field as he harshly retracted his servo. “Orion isn’t Optimus, alright? He has no desire to lead and just wants to do well by others. He can do that now in the safety of the Nemesis, and with his old pal Megatron. It's like he’s got a second chance.”

Bulkhead’s optics flickered in dismay. "That's-! He's only with you all because you're taking advantage of him. We need our leader more than you need a lackey!"

"Tch. Maybe.” Breakdown leaned forward, balling his digits into fists. “But maybe you all need to realize how worthless you all are without him. Megatron has been the most stable we’ve seen in a long time, troop morale is improving, and even Knockout appreciates having him around. Maybe it's better if you all realize how pointless this all is.”

Breakdown continued to loom over the green Autobot, his brows furrowed angrily. Bulkhead didn’t move, but his optics and field flared in defiance.

The Decepticon warrior chose to continue, “With Megatron and Orion on the same side there is no war. We won, just move on already.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bulkhead demanded furiously with his pointer digit clanging against Breakdown’s chest plating. “All you've done is kidnap and brainwash him! Once we get him back-"

"Kicking and screaming? Begging for you all not to harm him?” Breakdown retorted. “Those dead Miners definitely left an impression on him. Good job, by the way.”

“Liar!” Bulkhead’s voice shook with rage. “There’s no way he would stay with you ‘cons if he knew your history! You didn’t stop terrorizing Cybertron and you’ll just do it again with Earth. He’ll realize you guys are nothing but bad news.”

Breakdown could only scoff, “Whatever makes you feel better."

The blue warrior tried turning to leave once again, but this time was met with a hefty punch to the side of his helm. He tried to regain his balance but Bulkhead wasted no time to transform his fist into his signature battle mace and strike Breakdown’s chest with a harsh clash. That was no doubt going to leave a nasty mark.

“Guh!” Breakdown hacked before transforming his own servo into his war hammer. He lifted it just in time to fend off a series of erratic blows from the furious Autobot.

With unusual swiftness, Bulkhead grabbed Breakdown’s hammer hilt and forcefully threw the Decepticon off the main road and onto the adjacent patchy hills. Breakdown bounced once and landed with a thump on his back before scrambling to his pedes. Luckily he was at last prepared now to meet Bulkhead’s punches with his own.

The mine! Breakdown suddenly remembered as he knocked Bulkhead off balance with a strike to the shoulders and a strong shove. He jumped backwards and transformed mid-air before landing safely in his Vehicle mode on the dirt road.

"It's over!” He shouted as he revved his engine. “And stop ambushing our troops. They really can’t do anything for you." Breakdown spat with extra venom as he raced away towards the mine.

Breakdown checked his rearview mirror after putting some distance between himself and the green Autobot. As the reflection of Bulkhead got smaller, he noted that the Autobot did not bother to pursue him. He merely stood up and glared in his direction- no doubt cursing him to Cybertron and back.
A throbbing pain in his chassis reminded him that Bulkhead had gotten in a few nasty hits. He would have to get that checked out when he had a spare moment.

“Sorry Knockout, I don’t think I’ll be looking my best tonight.”

- - -

Back aboard the Nemesis, Breakdown recounted the entire encounter to Megatron and Soundwave in the command deck. When he had concluded his report, Megatron huffed victoriously.

"As if they couldn't be in any more turmoil,” the Decepticon leader mused, “you have erased any hope they hold in their sparks for Optimus’ willing return. Well done, Breakdown. Let's hope we can continue to meet their feeble blows with quick and painful recourse." Megatron gave the blue warrior a knowing smile as his red optics glimmered with satisfaction.

Breakdown intended to thank Megatron for his praise, when the command doors suddenly opened and Orion burst into the room. Two Vehions trailed helplessly behind Orion begging; “Sir, please! You have not been summoned- this is a private meeting!”

“Please excuse my intrusion, and do not lay blame on those who tried to bar me from entering,” Orion announced with uncharacteristic determination in his voice. His optics blazed with resolve as he approached the group, ignoring his own heavy pede falls echoing throughout the room.

Megatron, Soundwave, and Breakdown stood silently stunned as Orion approached.

“I heard what happened and I must know- Breakdown are you alright?” The usual caring tone slowly returned to his voice as he stared at the dents and scrapes lining Breakdown’s frame.

“Uhh. Nothing I couldn’t handle, Orion,” Breakdown attempted to project confidence in his response, as he tried to peek at Megatron’s expression for guidance. “Just a little interruption while on patrol, luckily no one else was harmed.”

Some tenseness left Orion’s posture, but he continued to stare shamefully at Breakdown’s damages. “It appears you have also been added to the ever growing list of individuals harmed because of me.”

Breakdown blinked in surprise at Orion’s response. He took a moment to shake his helm before firmly stating, “I’d tussle with them again if I had to. You’re one of us, of course we’d protect you at the cost of a few dings.”

Orion could only lower his gaze and internally respond. Yet I can imagine Knockout’s fury when he sees the state of your ‘finish’... let alone your injuries.

Throughout the whole exchange, Megatron had noticed the unmistakable guilt underlining Orion’s words and Breakdown’s attempts to assuage Orion’s tension. Breakdown sounded strangely earnest, and Megatron began to wonder if the warrior truly did care for Orion beyond his mandated friendliness?

Such thoughts would have to wait, as Megatron felt compelled to finish what Breakdown had started and soothe Orion’s agitation.

“Orion, your concern for the crew’s well-being is appreciated. However, I’m afraid the Autobots would find reason to assault our forces with or without you.” the silver leader professed.

“Megatron,” Orion stated as he lifted his gaze. His optics glistened with passion as he fixed his attention exclusively to the silver-clad leader. Megatron felt his spark jump at Orion’s stern tone and serious expression.

“I will do my part to stop the Autobot’s unspeakable crimes of aggression. This I vow…” Orion brought his servo forward and clutched it into a fist, his voice resolute. “...With all my spark.”

Megatron stood astonished by Orion’s declaration. He didn’t have to look to know Soundwave and Breakdown were similarly surprised. He had hoped, or moreso planned, for Orion to commit himself fully to the Decepticon in time. But this? He had never expected the ex-Autobot leader to affirm his loyalty so soon and offer himself fully to the cause.

Orion briefly closes his optics before opening them again with new found vigor, "What can I do? I do not wish to be a weakness for the cause."

At Orion’s prompting, Megatron gathered himself and gestured to Soundwave. "Actually, Soundwave may have found a good use for your skills on a certain project. We did not want to rush your shadowing, however we also did not realize you were so unsatisfied with your current position.”

Orion wasted no time responding, “If cutting my shadowing introductions short in favor of this project helps you in any way, I would be happy to do so.”

“Then we will honor your decision,” Megatron agreed. “With your return we thought it best to set our sights on Cybertron.”

Both Breakdown and Orion appeared surprised by the mention of their old home world, but said nothing.

“Along this line of thinking, there is one task that may be an ideal fit for you,” the silver mech glanced at the group as he proceeded. “When we stormed the Iacon Hall of Records, in the waning days of War of Cybertron, we acquired highly classified files. Files written in Autobot codes, which we have been unable to decipher.”

For visual assistance, Soundwave displayed the codes in question along his visor, scrolling through each row hastily to emphasize just how convoluted and dense the codes were.

Megatron continued, “In time we hope you would be able to decode this project, one we are dubbing ‘Project Iacon.’”

“Project Iacon…” Orion echoed back as he narrowed his optics onto the code scrolling across Soundwave’s visor. “This code is very complicated, but if these were seized from Iacon there should be some key phrases that I may be able to interpret.”

“Can you do it?” the silver warlord asked with hopefulness seeping into his field.

“It may take some time, but I believe I can,” Orion nodded dutifully. “I’ll commit myself entirely to decrypting Project Iacon, just allow me some patience as I work.”

“Granted,” Megatron grinned in delight and placed his servos behind him in a regal manner. Soundwave promptly turned around to resume whatever work he needed to perform at the main console, seemingly excusing himself from the conversation.

“Breakdown,” the Decepticon leader called out, startling the poor mech. “You may have the rest of the solar-cycle off to seek medical attention from Knockout. You may return to your duties once Knockout has cleared you fit for work. You are dismissed.”

“Understood, Lord Megatron,” the warrior responded, giving Orion a small nod before departing.

“Orion,” the silver mech turned to his old friend once more. “We will have a new workspace set up for you by tomorrow. For now you can return to your shadowing to finish any loose ends. Soundwave will notify CL-120 of the changes, if he has not done so already.”

Soundwave did not move or motion in acknowledgement, so Orion chose to speak up instead. “Thank you, Megatron. An this time, your flexibility is appreciated.”

The red and blue mech considered reaching out to Megatron in a friendly gesture of thanks, but instead nodded deeply before withdrawing towards the exit. The Decepticon leader did not stop him, and turned slowly to face the main console Soundwave was currently fixated on.

Orion scanned the hallways as the command door closed behind him. There was one last thing he needed to check before he returned to Cyl. His audials heard Breakdown’s steps down the center hall and he urgently followed. Once caught up with the blue Decepticon, he brushed Breakdown’s servo as he walked in step beside him.

“Breakdown, may I have a moment of your time?” he pleaded.

“Only if you’re willing to walk and talk.” Breakdown agreed, his tone warm and friendly. “Knockout will want to take an immediate look at the dents, you know how he is.”

“Yes, of course,” Orion agreed, staring at a particularly nasty dent on the warrior’s torso. “I actually wanted to ask you about something related. Your optic-patch… was your optic disfigured as a result of an Autobot assault?”

Breakdown flashed a stunned expression for a moment before it contorted into a gloomy look. The next moment Breakdown forced a smirk as if it was nothing. “No actually. It was more of a ‘wrong place, wrong time’ kind of situation.”

Feeling Breakdown’s apprehension, Orion continued slowly. “If it’s something you would rather not recollect, you don’t need to recount the tale. I do not wish to cause you any disturbance, especially after the events of today.”

The Decepticon warrior studied Orion for a moment as if contemplating how to proceed. “No, it’s fine… It’s just, uh…”

“It was more of a trap,” he finally explained, “One set by a group of humans on earth.”

The ex-Autobot leader was unfamiliar with the term. “Are ‘humans’ the inhabitants on the planet we are currently orbiting?”

“Yes, exactly,” Breakdown continued in a strained manner. “They’re organics, and way smaller than us. But a group of them managed to get the jump on me.”

Breakdown lowered his single optic gaze toward the ground as they walked. “It was… really bad when I came to. They somehow figured out how to disengage my pain receptors and had me entirely restrained, just so I could watch as they…”

His pace slowed, and Orion followed suit. He couldn’t help but notice Breakdwon’s field pulled uncharacteristically close to himself, his faceplate expression despondent.

Breakdown recalled watching his tender inner circuits cut and seized like he was some kind of trinket. How his pleas were ignored in favor of appraising him like a foreign contraption. Breakdown absently put a servo against his torso as he finally continued.

“...They vandalized my internal systems like I was some kind of play-thing.”

Orion watched helplessly as Breakdown slowly lifted his single optic gaze to meet his optics. Orion’s spark lurched with sadness as he realized how traumatic this event must have been for Breakdown. The usually large and imposing mech with a contagious smile now looked small and panicked. It took every bit of controlled effort to keep Orion from putting a concerned servo on Breakdown’s shoulder in support.

It reminded him of the anomaly in his own chest.

“... anyway.” Breakdown murmured, barely loud enough for Orion to hear. “I was lucky to be saved to fight another day. My optic wasn't recovered, so Knockout fashioned me patch. Yellow optics aren’t exactly easy to come by these days.”

The blue warrior began walking again, trying to raise his gaze higher than the floor and reset his vocalizer. “I think I look tougher now. Some of the others even joke that I look cooler now.” Breakdown tried to instill confidence in his statement as if eager to move on.

The ex-Autobot leader could not help frowning sadly. He noted Breakdown’s unwillingness to elaborate on Knockout's reaction to this event, and assumed it was something too upsetting to recount. He did not wish to pry. However, he couldn't resist imagining how distressed Knockout may have been.

Knockout wouldn’t hesitate to verbally lambast anyone who merely scratched his or Breakdown’s finish. Breakdown returning to the Nemesis in such a state would have been… catastrophic.

“Breakdown,” Orion began before trailing off.

“Nope. No apologies, Orion.” Breakdown scolded, more for himself than for his ally’s sake. “It’s in the past, and I promise I’m just as tough as I look.”

Orion continued to frown, “It is not weakness to acknowledge the scars left from past events. Besides, it is the external wounds that heal the quickest.” Orion finally allowed himself to put a supportive servo on Breakdown’s shoulder armor. “I may not understand the full extent of this war’s damage, but I hope you know you did not deserve what happened.”

Breakdown’s attention snapped to the servo on his shoulder, and registered the touch as reassurance. He followed the servo back to Orion’s gaze and smiled weakly, “Thanks. Just…”

“Just don’t forget your friends in the med bay when you’re promoted to tactician or something,” Breakdown finished returning Orion’s gesture with a playful shove. His one functioning optic betrayed how touched he felt, and Orion couldn't help but smile in relief.

“Although it may sound strange, I do wish I could have continued to assist both you and Knockout. However, I would never decline an opportunity to help Megatron.”

“Yeah, just… let us know if any of this becomes too much for you. You deserve to pursue what you want too.” Breakdown gave him a smaller servo shove.

“Thank you, Breakdown. I hope you know the same can be said for you.”

The two mechs walked in comfortable silence as they made their way to the medical bay. Orion bid Breakdown spark-felt goodbye, before the warrior entered the med bay. Nevertheless, Orion only made it past one corner when he heard the furious voice of Knockout shout from behind him.

“What the scrap happened to you!?”

- - -

Orion absently scrolled through some of his hand written notes on his tablet from today’s work. He had just completed his first day on Project Iacon and his spirits were lower than he wanted to admit. His optics were laser focused on the newest code, hoping it would finally decide to reveal its true nature to him. While his mind ran though various possibilities for the 9th time today, another part of his processor kept returning to the image of Breakdown’s dented chassis.

I will make it up to Breakdown and the Miner in whatever ways I can. Besides trying to decode Project Iacon, Orion had been hunting for energon snack recipes to learn how to remake cube shaped snacks that were once popular in Iacon and Kalis. He considered requesting utensils and tools from the storage inventory, but he wanted to speak with Knockout first to make sure the warship even had such resources. He hoped Breakdown and the Miner would enjoy them, as it would have to suffice and an apology gift in the meantime.

And still, there was something else bothering him.

Orion’s thoughts were interrupted when he unknowingly collided with a solid obstacle while turning the corner to the hab-suite block. There was an unpleasant clang of metal, and Orion’s helm rattled so hard he nearly dropped his precious tablet. It would have no double met an ill-fated end if another servo hadn’t swooped in and helped him secure a hold. “P-pardon me!” Orion apologized instinctively.

To Orion’s shock, it was a familiar set of silver digits that grasped the tablet. Orion followed the servo until his optics met Megatron’s familiar crimson ones- wide with surprise.

“M-Megatron!” Orion exclaimed, nearly falling backwards in an attempt to exit his friend’s personal space.

And he would have fallen backwards on his aft, if Megaton hadn’t extended his other servo to grab Orion by the wrist in time and pulled him forward to balance himself. Orion stood awkwardly grasping Megatron’s assisting servo and the tablet in the other, before anxiously disengaging.

“My deepest apologies, I was so consumed with my thoughts I was not paying attention to my surroundings.” Orion could not keep his field from pulsing with humiliation, holding the tablet close to his person.

“It’s no trouble, Orion,” Megatron dismissed trying to gather himself. Orion assumed Megatron had also been distracted, as he appeared similarly staggered by their unintentional clash. “You're not injured, are you? That was quite the loud-”

“Yes, please no need to worry, I’m alright.” Orion nervously cut off.

“Er… of course.” Megatron’s red optics studied Orion. While his old friend may be fine in a physical sense, his field did not reassure him everything on the inside was alright. “It is quite late, I would have expected you to have retired cycles ago.”

Orion flinched, he had stayed significantly past his expected check-out time and was herded out of his workstation by the nightly maintenance Vehicons. “I did not intend to remain working so late. Time slipped away from me faster than I expected.”

Nonsense, Megatron thought to himself. Staying half a cycle late due to hyperfocus is typical for you, but staying this late? Against his conscious wishes, his processor recalled the messages Orion and him used to exchange back on Cybertron. Before they ever met in person, they would often exchange text based comm messages throughout the day. Orion would often lose track of time absorbing information, and apologize for not responding sooner. It wasn’t uncommon for him to leave the Hall of Records up to a cycle after his shift was supposed to end. The fuzzy memories were forcibly discarded, and Mgatron ignored the bittersweet ache that was left in their place.

Something is bothering you.

“Hm… Might there be something on your mind, Orion?” Megatron pressed. “If you need assistance with Project Iacon, I’m sure we can have Soundwave delegate some of his tasks to make time to assist you.”

Orion shook his helm, “No, not at all,” he politely declined. He had been lucky enough to avoid shadowing Soundwave, and did not want any part of his project being delegated to the cold communications officer. “I can handle decoding on my own, I am just a bit rusty at the moment.”

Megatron raised a brow, “Then pray tell, what is consuming your thoughts at this hour?”

Orion blinked in surprise at Megatron’s precise questions, but eventually ex-vented in defeat. “Am I truly such an obvious read?”

“You were never very adept at the art of deception,” the silver mech chuckled softly.

“Well, it is… difficult to explain plainly,” Orion admitted. “It is a combination of recent events and a growing uncertainty within myself.”

Megatron couldn’t help but tense and try to keep his voice steady, “What might you mean by that?”

“It’s a bit contradictory,” Orion murmured as his gaze darkened. “I know you emphasized my return as a boon for the Deception cause, yet it’s rather obvious that I also pose a great weakness- while also being less useful than before. On Cybertron I could at least use my station at the Hall of Records to offer a unique type of assistance.” Orion’s optics narrowed in frustration. “And while I may not be leading any offenses against your troops, Decepticons are still injured and terminated on my account.”

Before Megatron could interrupt, Orion opened and closed his digits thoughtfully as he continued.

“I am unsure of who I am. While I am grateful to have been restored to my prior self, I cannot help but feel that I am fundamentally different now.” Orion’s digits twitched as he resisted the urge touching his chest plating where his unsightly additional lay hidden. “I look different, moving about my days feels different. And worst of all…”

Orion’s expression turned sorrowful. The center of his brows raised in concern and his field was desperate.

“You see me differently. As if such a corrupted reality wasn't dreadful enough, you’ve been forced to change due to enduring my involvement with the Autobots.”

Megatron’s processor is racing as he attempts to follow all of Orion’s points. He lifts a servo to interject, but Orion suddenly continued, again.

“And I understand mechs change, I am not lamenting the inevitable passage of time.” The red and blue mech’s voice was laced with passion. “However, there was once a time when you only had to feign an impenetrable exterior to those outside of your inner circle. But now- now it looks as though you purposefully busy yourself in order to avoid any meaningful interactions with others aboard your own vessel.”

Orion finally glanced up to see Megatron’s dazed expression, realizing he was perhaps getting off track.

“Ah, I’m rambling,” Orion chose his next words carefully, hoping Megatron would not take issue with his phrasing. “In essence, I simply wished to express my interest in standing beside you. Not just as a Decepticon, but as a dear companion once again. A companion that is willing to wait as long as necessary to re-establish what we’ve lost.”

Megatron thought his systems could crash at any moment. He blinked a few times and replayed Orion’s words in his processor- twice.

You are… concerned for me?

Megatron cycled through his most recent memories in search of anything that may have caused Orion such concern for his well-being, yet he found nothing unusual or concerning in the brief interactions they had in the past few solar-cycles. After pulling up his comms history he realized that he hadn’t done anything abnormal, Orion was simply recalling their time together on Cybertron with a clarity that he no longer possessed.

Correction- it was not a lack of clarity, but a prideful rejection to recall those once precious moments. Those memories were buried so well over the past thousands of meta-cycles of revenge oriented goals that they no longer crept into his daily consciousness. He had once considered the assistance of memory suppression tools to have locked the memories away for good, but his pride would never allow him to follow through with such a procedure. Perhaps his pride was good for something, as now he felt compelled to scrape the surface of those memories.

For a fleeting moment Megatron considered reaching back into those dormant memories before abruptly seizing himself. No. Never again.

Instead he relayed Orion’s last statement, trying to piece together something he could grasp onto. Specifically grasping for some kind avenue to avoid answering his old friend directly.

“Orion,” the silver mech began reluctantly. “I apologize if I’ve given you a concerning impression of my health. Your help and contributions are greatly appreciated as is, and for that we-” he paused to correct himself, “I am grateful.”

“I understand that,” Orion pleaded, “Knockout assured me as much.”

Did he now? Megatron growled internally. Perhaps he would need to give his dear medic a reminder to not share baseless assumptions with Orion in the future.

“However, I’m asking… Perhaps selfishly…” the ex-Autobot leader’s gaze fluttered to the ground as he began losing his confidence. He gripped the tablet closer to his chest as if the familiar object would give him the words he needed.

“That you allow me the chance to be your close friend once again.” Orion finally blurted out. “I know it will take time and adjustment given my unfortunate history, but I am willing to put in the effort. The role of mere ally has left me… unfulfilled.”

Megatron’s intake stalled and it felt like his internal circuits were being twisted. He had no desire to hear Orion restate himself again, it just made everything more real.

“...That’s what's been weighing on your mind?” The silver leader weakly tried to deflect.

“Yes,” Orion stepped forward and flared his field outward to convey his earnesty.

“That could be quite a difficult process.”

“Please,” Orion begged.

That simple one word plea caught the silver mech off guard. Megatron’s will to refuse began rapidly crumbling as he stared at his old friend. Orion’s blue toned optics bore into him, studying his expression for any indication of his answer. In this moment, he felt as if his decision would affect the cosmos if he were to refuse. His lines had begun to pulse faster and his intake felt dry. Surely, this is not what Orion truly wanted?

His gaze dropped to the tablet Orion fiercely held onto. Its chrome edges softly shined in reflection of the corridor lightings. In this lighting the hue of the teal edges nearly matched Orion’s optics. He had hoped Orion would find use for the tool once in a while, instead Orion had never left his hab-suite once without it. The sight of Orion clinging to the gift was the final blow to unravel his resolve. I must have a malfunction to be so easily persuaded.

Unable to meet Orion’s optics, the silver mech held his servo forward in a traditional Cybertronian manner of greeting, his palm forward and flat facing Orion. “...I suppose, if you are so determined I won’t stand in your way.”

“Is that a yes?” Orion leaned closer.

“...yes.”

A surge of happiness exploded from Orion’s spark as he finally placed his own palm flat against Megatron’s to finish the mirrored greeting. The gesture would appear as a prolonged ‘high-five’ to an average human.

“Thank you!” He made no effort to retract his elevated field as it brushed against Megatron’s.

“Er, it’s no reason to get so… excited,” Megatron stammered, despite feeling like he may explode himself.

“I have every reason to be excited,” Orion corrected, beaming.

The silver warlord fought back a fluster and pulled his field closer. “You dare jest so soon?” he demanded, yet his voice lacked any accusatory sentiment.

“That was no jest. I was speaking earnestly.” One of Orion’s brows arched and the unmistakable glint of mischief danced in his optics as he began shifting his digits to playfully grip Megatron’s digits.

“But perhaps a good jest would allow you to loosen up once in a while,” Orion prodded.

What have I done!

A new wave of flustering heat washed over Megatron as he resisted the urge to grip Orion by the shoulders, physically drop him in front of his hab-suite, and thunder away without another word. Instead he managed to regain his composure and tried to push Orion (as gingerly as possible) towards his hab-suite, “It’s quite late Orion- I assure you there is no need for me to ‘loosen-up’. In fact, it would be best for us both to retire for a much needed recharge.”

Orion did his best to stifle his laughter and reset his vocalizer, “I suppose you’re right. I will refrain from further jests in the meantime and be grateful for the progress we have made.”

“Excellent, rest well-”

Bzzt!

…

The keypad made a buzzing sound and flashed red after Orion input his passcode. Megatron stood puzzled as Orion embarrassingly pulled his field close to himself.

“Um… I must have made an erroneous selection,” he chided to himself, yet his tone was filled with dread, further confusing Megatron as he continued to delicately input his passkey again.

Bzzt!

…

“... Primus, why have you forsaken me,” Orion whispered barely at an audible volume, standing frozen above the keypad as if one wrong move would incur the wrath of a monster within the keypad.

“What are you doing?” Megatron finally asked, “Do you need assistance inputting your passkey…?”

“No! Uh, perhaps- yes…” Orion trailed off, tearing his faceplate away from the flashing red screen and failing to plaster on a neutral expression.

What’s got you so frightened? Megatron wondered to himself as he stepped over.

“You have one attempt left. What is your passkey? You are welcome to reset it afterwards.”

“1, 3, 2, 1, 3.” Orion recited, stepping back to give Megatron room.

The silver mech stared curiously at Orion for a moment before turning his attention to the keypad. Orion’s apprehension caused Megatron to take extra care as he input the code: 1, 3, 2, 1, 3.

Blink!

The hab-suite doors wooshed open, and the interior lights turned on automatically as if greeting the pair. Megatron turned to face Orion with a raised metal brow.

“Any other phantoms you require assistance with?” the silver mech pressed somewhat sarcastically, crossing his servos.

It was Orion’s turn to blink in confusion and gather his bearings, “I- I don’t believe so. Thank you for your… assistance.”

Without another word, Orion retreated into his hab-suite and timidly waved back at Megatron as the door slid closed. The Decepticon leader could only humorously huff and shake his helm in bewilderment as he stepped away. Orion was confidently teasing only moments ago before the keypad had mysteriously reduced him to a bashful bundle of nerves.

I’ll have to ask Soundwave if there have been any keypad related issues reported recently, Megatron noted to himself as he made his way to his own hab-suite, AQ012. With Orion safely returned to his hab-suite Megatron gave himself permission to finally retire for the night.

Chapter Text

“Endless road, a cool breeze, and the setting sun. You have to admit, we have quite the stunning view.” Knockout described in his honeyed voice, “To think, I’m not referring to my finish for once.”

Orion gazed around him in awe as Earth’s setting sun cast pink and purple hues cascading across the sky. He could barely register the sound of the ground bridge closing behind him as he focused on the warm hues plastered above. Breakdown and Knockout stood a few paces in front of him staring at the long road ahead before turning back bearing triumphant smiles.

“Told ya Soundwave would let it slide. We’re only going to be out for a cycle or so,” Breakdown teased.

Well, it took some convincing. Knockout recalled using Orion’s emotionally distraught mood as a primary excuse to earn Soundwave’s begrudging approval. Orion has been working on Project Iacon for three solar-cycles with no major break-throughs, and he had finally taken Breakdown up on his offer to go for a drive.

Orion’s expression softened as he turned his attention to Breakdown, “You never said Earth’s skyline was so beautiful.”

“Yeah, well, it’s especially nice because it’s sunset,” Breakdown explained. “Now let’s hit the road before we lose any more time.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Knockout hummed as he leaned down to initiate his transformation. His ruby red plating glistened in the warm sunlight as it separated and swiftly reformed into a sporty Earth vehicle.

“You remember how to transform, right?” The blue Decepticon warrior teased one last time before transforming into his boxy alt mode.

Orion’s optics cycled and narrowed in confusion as he studied his companion’s alt modes. Knockout in the smaller and sleek red vehicle and Breakdown in a much more angular all-terrain vehicle.

“What? Sports cars not your style?” Knockout asked, almost sounding offended.

“No,” Orion raised a servo defensively, “I am simply unfamiliar with the style of your alt modes.”

“Ooh,” Breakdown breathed in realization, “How to put this…”

“It’s just acclimation to a new environment,” Knockout interrupted. “Our Cybertronian alt modes would stand out suspiciously amidst the Earthly vehicles. Scanning a new alt mode was necessary! More of a workplace decision, really.”

Knockout’s explanation ended a bit weakly, he knew some older mechs often felt personally attached to what little was left of Cybertron. However, with a need to maintain a low profile, nearly every Cybertronian (‘bot or ‘con) had scanned a new alt mode. The only individual Knockout knew to keep to their Cybertronian alt mode was Megatron.

Orion’s brows raised in protest but he kept his voice even, “I see… Such sacrifices may have been necessary.”

“I don’t think we look too bad,” Breakdown tried to infuse as much cheer into his statement as he could. “Once we start breezing down these empty roads you’ll forget all about it.”

Orion paused, “Of course. I don’t wish to hold us any longer…”

The red and blue mech leaned down and hesitantly began his transformation sequence. He could feel his T-cog whirr to life from within his chassis and begin assigning his limbs and plating new sequences. Stiff knots inside his chassis began to unravel in relief as his circuits and cables stretched. His frame rumbled with the release of tension as the transformation finished.

Orion felt a series of tires ground him to the aged concrete below. They felt less robust than he remembered…

But it wasn’t just his tires. He sent a current through his lines and realized so much more had changed. His limbs folded and separated in an entirely different sequence than he remembered, and felt extremely ‘front’ heavy. Another current was sent through his lines confirming the contours of his new shape in his processor, and he couldn’t help his field dampen with heavy-heartedness.

Breakdown and Knockout scooted closer as Orion remained silent. Knockout sent a private comms message to Breakdown.

.:Great, why didn’t we think of this:.

.:It didn’t occur to me . . .:.

.:Soundwave will not be happy if we return to the Nemesis with a gloomier Orion:.

.:C’mon Knockout, you know Soundwave is never happy:.

.:You know what I mean!
I can’t exactly tell him:
‘Don’t worry, my mech! Finding a Cybertronian Vehicle in this day and age is nearly impossible, so worrying is pointless!’:.

.:Obviously.
We just need to make him see the bright side.
Watch, I know Orion better than most Decepticons:.

“You look great Orion! Didn’t know you were so heavy duty,” Breakdown swerved around Orion until he was parked parallel to him, only about a two feet between them. “Don’t tell me, 24 gauge rims? It suits you!”

Orion strained to mask his disappointment, “... Thank you, Breakdown. Although, I am saddened to see my alt mode has been changed.”

.:Alright, I got nothin’:.

.:Those were my lines!
‘Orion expert,’ my aft:.

Knockout playfully revved his engine to get his companion’s attention, “Yes yes, both of you are strappingly handsome mechs. Shall we get going?”

Breakdown chuckled softly and revved his own engine casually, “Lead the way.”

Knockout reversed, changed gears, and oriented himself to face the setting sun while easing into a relaxed pace. Breakdown pulled forward in front of Orion and followed suit. Orion hesitantly changed gears and forced his wheels to pull himself forward. He felt no major hiccups, so he picked up speed to fall behind Breakdown.

The roads were smooth and empty, with trees and foliage speckling the mountainous ground as the three mechs pressed forward. Orion could feel the distant warmth of Earth’s sun and the cool afternoon winds playfully whistling in between the cracks of his plating. It was a refreshing feeling, akin to a good wash after a long day.

Earth’s sun dipped further until it became partially obscured by distant tree covered hills. The far off hills took on a blue hue, and the pink sections of sky transformed into more subtle purple tones. The dark trees stood tall, like shadowy spears pointing proudly at the sky. Orion couldn't help but marvel as the scenery shifted, so different from the sunsets on Cybertron and yet still so beautiful. It was rare for Cybertron’s sunsets to be so colorful, even during their sunnier seasons.

Orion’s daydreaming was interrupted by a comm’s message from Breakdown.

.:How are you doing back there?:.

Breakdown’s caring nature caused Orion to internally smirk.

.:Better. Thank you for checking in:.

- - -

The drive ended too soon. Breakdown was soon departing to monitor mine activity and Knockout returned to his medical bay to finish taking inventory. Orion considered returning to his hab-suite, but found himself wandering the Nemesis hall ways instead. This route brushed along the ship’s exterior walls, and Orion vaguely hoped there may be small maintenance windows that would allow him to view the outside world.

Orion walked absently, consumed by his thoughts. The drive with Breakdown and Knockout has been refreshing, beautiful, and… familiar? He didn’t have any conscious memories of driving on Earth, but he did share similar drives with friends on Cybertron. The memories felt far off, but they were there in all their cloudiness within his memory cache. It took no effort for Orion to reach toward those echoes of the past and bring them closer for inspection.

Orion briefly closed his optics and continued at a leisurely pace, his dark digits tracing the corridor walls as if they served as his guide. Soon enough, the smiling faceplate of a white, blue, and black mech greeted him. His blue visor softly reflected the lights within the Iacon Hall of Records, and the red accents on his plating contoured his frame stylishly.

Jazz, Orion recalled fondly. Knockout would’ve gotten along well with Jazz.

Next, it was a white and red medic with piercing blue optics. He grumpily cleaned his tools and lectured a larger red mech on taking better care of themselves while another mech from law enforcement stood in the doorway, nodding along as if in agreement with the medic.

At this, Orion couldn’t help but snicker. Ratchet, Ironhide, and Prowl… I hope they are well, wherever they are.

Bittersweet memories bore into Orion’s spark as if it were a dull knife piercing soft bedrock. It was a slow throbbing sensation, but Orion refused to shy away from the sensation and let the memories continue cycling.

He then recalled one of the many instances in which he met Jazz at Maccadam’s Old Oil House for conversations over Visco. Before he had met Megatron, Jazz had been his primary friend to converse and debate with. Jazz had also been the one to suggest he and Orion take a trip to Kaon to see the gladiatorial fights for themselves- which led to Orion mustering the courage to message Kaon’s champion soon after.

From there, his life began changing and growing in unpredictable ways. Orion began questioning the norms of his life with a critical lens, and his conversations with Megatronus refined his views further. Debates turned into in-person meetings, which evolved into rallies, which culminated into mainstream attention as their message gained traction. In an indirect way, Jazz’s support had helped propel him down a path that led to rebellion, leadership, and Megatron.

Orion opened his optics slowly, the bittersweet memories still fresh in his processor. He knew his old friends were not amidst the Decepticon ranks, as he had already scoured for their names in the inactive staff listings and found nothing. It meant that they had either joined the Autobots, had fled off world, or had perished as casualties of a war he could no longer recollect. He hoped fiercely that they were just off-world- safely biding their time. He could pry into records on Autobots, but he preferred to stay ignorant for just a bit longer. Just until he knew he was strong enough to look.

Orion continued to trail along the reinforced walls, his digits still brushing against the contours of the ship’s interior. He raised his gaze higher and saw some irregular curved glass panels along the wall ahead. His spark pulsed in his chest as he picked up the pace, surely it wasn’t…?

A window! Orion released a quiet gasp as he retracted his servo from the wall and increased his speed to a jog. Within a few paces he realized that this hallway section of the 2nd lowest level had rounded windows just before the hallway turned to a corner. There were actually six windows, and in the middle of them was a discrete maintenance hatch of some sort etched into the wall. The windows were only big enough to maybe fit 2 face plates, and Orion had to bend his knees to properly see through.

Despite how childish he may appear, Orion wasted no time adjusting his posture to see through the small window of reinforced glass. Sure enough, the stars twinkled brightly in the expanses of space as if to silently greet him proclaiming; ‘You’ve finally found us!’

Orion ex-vented in relief, as if dropping a load of micro stressors he did not realize he had been carrying. The constellations were different, and placement of stars felt jumbled, but the sight of space was familiar. A sight he could cling to. It was as if he was back in Iacon, gazing up at the starry sky, even if only for a moment.

The red and blue mech relished the sight, getting lost in the dark void of space. He was so lost in the stars, that it took him a few moments to notice the small squadron comprised of two Vehicons and one Eradicon walking along the Nemesis’ longer tusks. They seemed to be referring to a data pad in one of the Vehicon’s servos and pointing to various sections on that side of the ship’s exterior. They continued their discussion for a series of clicks before they all nodded in agreement and began making their way towards the hatch.

Orion couldn’t help but wonder how the Vehicons and Eradicon managed to stay secured to the ship without any cables or special footwear. Perhaps the ship had some sort of barrier that prevents its troops from floating away by the pull of space?

He kept the question at the forefront of his processor as the squadron of Vehicons opened the maintenance hatch from the outside and filed inside, “Oh, Orion sir!” the first Vehicon exclaimed.

“Greetings, Gage,” Orion waved as the others filed in. “You too Black Nickel. Did you two trade BN-177 for XL-132?”

The single Eradicon, XL-132, perked up in surprise as Orion spoke his name. Gage manually pulled the hatch door closed and eagerly answered for the group, “BN-177 was reassigned to space bridge maintenance on Earth. Breakdown and Soundwave have been spreading us out thinner these days because of… recent events.”

Orion’s expression fell with realization as Black Nickel spoke up, “XL-132 was just helping us appraise the ship’s exterior for any up-keep needs. Better to be safe and take a flier than be sorry, ya know?”

As he finished speaking, Black Nickel expertly spun an inconspicuous panel on the hatch as if it were a lever in a clockwise motion before it clicked into place to remain flush against the discrete door. Orion noted the movement, assuming this door operated with a manual lock from the inside rather than a keypad.

“I see,” Orion hummed in understanding. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you manage to stay secured to the ship’s exterior without floating away?”

“Oh, right, space,” Black Nickel moved away from the hatch and in between Gage and XL-132. “The Nemesis has a level of artificial gravity, so as long as you don’t try to jump off you’ll stay pulled to the ship.”

“It’s more like a magnetic field,” XL-132 finally spoke up. “That’s why you’ll be full of static if you stay out there too long. It’s more comfortable to wait until the Nemesis enters Earth’s atmosphere so that the artificial gravity is disabled when you go out.”

“But then we would be fighting with earth's gravity,” Gage protested. “I’ll take some static over falling to my doom any day.”

Orion stifled a chuckle, “Thank you for explaining. It seems there is much I still need to learn about the Nemesis.”

Orion turned his gaze back to the small reinforced windows, “I had been hoping for a way to see the starry cosmos, so this is a pleasant surprise.”

“Really?” Gage asked as if the statement surprised him.

“Space is kind of intimidating if you ask me,” Black Nickel agreed.

“It’s not that bad,” XL-132 defended. “I bet if you could fly, you wouldn't be so intimidated.”

“No, thank you!” Gage yelped, “I’ll keep to my sheltered maintenance job in the safety of the ship.”

Black Nickel nodded in agreement, “I couldn’t agree more. But we should probably head to the next section since Breakdown has us on double duty.”

“Oh right,” Gage gave him an approving nod before turning back to Orion, “Good to talk with you, sir. You should probably head back to your quarters before the cleaning crew finds you again.”

Orion noticed XL-132 quietly snickering as Black Nickel gave him a discreet punch to the servo, “Ow,” the Eradicon wheezed.

“I suppose you are correct,” Orion ignored XL-132 and Black Nickel as he continued, “It was nice to catch up with you all. Please take care of yourselves.”

With that, the small maintenance crew gave a respectful helm bow and turned the corner towards their next assigned section. Orion made his way back in the opposite direction, but spared the small round windows one last longing glance.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself. The Nemesis was dark, cold, and did feel a bit cramped at times. However, small pockets of community persisted despite the lack of comradery encouraged by the leadership team. Orion could only hope that Megatron would be open to change in the future, especially once they became closer as friends. Just as Megatron had promised.

In the meantime, Orion may have just found a spacious spot to hide out.

- - -

It was the next day. Instead of working through his break, Orion chose to venture out to one of the communal common rooms for a change of environment. He decided to set out for the closest one not far from the energon storage vault, and was relieved to see Cyl at a corner table absently scrolling through a data pad with a small stack of other pads beside him. It was a curious sight, as he had never expected Cyl to be the studious type. Orion nodded and cordially waved at other troops as he passed them before stopping in front of Cyl’s table.

“Greetings Cyl, may I join you? Just for as long as my break lasts.”

“Orion!” Cyl put down his data pad in surprise. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you again so soon. Doesn’t the command team have their own common room?”

Orion cycled his optics in confusion as he sat down across from the Eradicon captain, “Perhaps? I haven’t ventured out to the higher floors to investigate. I opted for the closest one, and I’m grateful I did.”

“Lucky you, I usually take my break earlier. How is the new project fairing?” Cyl respectfully placed the data pad flat on the stack to the side and gave Orion his full attention.

“Progress is slow. Endless lines of encrypted code have managed to infiltrate my subconscious whenever I attempt to recharge,” he admitted, not wanting to dwell on the matter any longer. “What are you doing with so many data pads?”

“Hmm, well,” Cyl shifted awkwardly in his seat. “With you graduated to a special project, I’ve been elected to take on a higher ranking position with some other captains. With our aerial commander gone, some of us have to fill the void of responsibility.”

“You are referring to Starscream,” Orion concluded as he remembered the staff listings. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you think of him?”

“Well,” the captain thought for a moment, “He’s very… proud. And nobody wanted to be around him when he got irritated.”

“But,” he continued, “Deep down every Eradicon looks up to Starscream. Maybe it’s something in our programming, but there’s something mystical about Stascream being the last of the real-deal Vosnian Seekers from Cybertron. Many of us have read about their exploits on Cybertron, and it’s a shame there’s only one left.”

Cyl took a moment to adjust the stack of data pads into a neater pile as he continued, “While nobody appreciated him deserting, many of us can’t bring ourselves to hate him.”

“Megatron is a flier,” Orion couldn’t help but point out, “Is he not someone you would consider looking up to instead?”

“Lord Megatron isn’t a seeker, it’s different,” Cyl tapped the stack of pads. “When we look at Starscream, it’s like seeing something to strive for. Not his attitude- but what he represents. A champion of the skies. A real seeker.”

“I see,” Orion took note of how Cyl spoke with such resolve, the meaning of a ‘real seeker’ clearly meant a lot to him. “Wherever Starscream is now, I hope he is safe. Especially from the Autobots.”

A sorrowful expression darkened Orion’s faceplate and he stared down at his digits.

Oh no, not this again. Cyl couldn’t help but silently bemoan as Orion no doubt recalled the mine incidents.

“Orion,” Cyl spoke with a vigor in his deep voice. “Why do you think I hold onto all of the dents, cuts, and scrapes I’ve gotten at the hands of combat? I could easily get replacement armor and look freshly forged by the time Earth's sun sets.”

The question took Orion by surprise as he tried to process an acceptable answer. He had asked himself the same question before and had never found an appropriate time to ask. “Perhaps you… enjoy combat?”

“Wrong! I don’t dream of dangerous work. Try again.”

Orion struggled to dismiss the embarrassment as he tried to find a new potential explanation for Cyl’s insistence on appearing battle worn. He attempted to mentally put himself in the position of an Eradicon and imagine why he might want to keep his battle scars.

“Perhaps, you wish to appear distinctly identifiable and the physical damage assists with this?”

“Close, and a good enough segue for me,” Cyl stated with his usual dryness. “I keep as much of my battle damage as possible because it proves that I’m a survivor, despite being destined to die.”

Orion gaped, but Cyl chose to continue, “Like my brothers, I was forged with the intention of being disposable. But I somehow managed to make it past my first mission. Then my second patrol. Then my fourth Autobot encounter. All of these are things that could have killed me if things had gone differently.”

“And somehow I’m still here,” Cyl gestured to himself meaningfully, “I want every encounter to shape me into a version of myself I never imagined was possible. I know some of the others fear being perceived as an individual, but I strive for it.”

Orion clamped his mouth shut into a frown As Cyl pointed at the slender scar that ran along the right side of his faceplate.

“These are not reminders that Autobots want to sink their blades into me. They remind me that I’m pressing forward for the sake of everyone and myself. If I can survive more than four Autobot encounters, so can they. If I can see myself as my own spark, then they can too.”

Orion let Cyl’s words sink into him. He was beginning to realize how little he truly understood the dynamic of the troops, and how wrong the information felt as he sat with it.

“None of this is right,” Orion murmured, “Destined to die? You deserve to live, just like any other Cybertronian forged from the Well.”

“Well-,” The Eradicon captain was cut off as Orion pressed forward.

“And your original designations sound like serial numbers, yet your nicknames do not appear to be universally respected. I don’t like the implications.”

“Uh,” Cyl cocked his helm slightly, “What do you mean?”

“Your serial numbers feel reminiscent of the designations of industry workers from before the Great War,” the red and blue mech clarified. “They were the disposable working class that had no names. Megatron had-”

Orion cut himself off as he realized how similar D-16 sounded to CL-120, BN-177, and XL-571. Vehicons, Eradicons, D-16… they were the same in function.

Had Megatron become so detached from his original objectives that he no longer saw the hypocrisy aboard his very ship?

Tightness formed in Orion’s chest as the connection solidified in his mind. He couldn’t continue this conversation any longer, he needed time alone to think.

“Pardon me,” Orion stood up and put a digit to his helm pretending to be receiving a comms message. “I must return to my work station, immediately. Enjoy the rest of your break, I’m sure we will see each other again. Soon.”

“Um, yeah. No problem,” Cyl watched as Orion quickly made his way out of the common room, nearly crashing into Steve as he passed through the exit. He ex-vented and picked up the topmost data pad on the stack.

“Deserving to live, huh?”

The battered captain gazed thoughtfully at the data pad in his servo for a few moments before deciding to pull out a different data pad from his stack. He scrolled through the titles and landed on a staff listings and honed in the section titled, “Leader: Megatron” and “Analyst: Orion Pax”

Maybe a little history lesson wouldn’t hurt in between his other assigned reading.

- - -

“Jackson Darby, you will not be traveling to another planet!”

Jack’s mother, June, was pointing an accusatory finger at her son as her words echoed throughout the Autobot base. The metal panels that lined the cavern walls of the base did not help with the reverberation. Jack had stepped backwards defensively with a pleading expression.

Behind the two, a younger voice called out, “I’m in!”

“You’re not going either, Miko,” June tore her gaze away from Jack and pointed at Miko in a similar manner. After a moment, she turned her fiery gaze towards the group of Autobots watching from the center of the discrete military base. “Not when one of you can.”

Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee stood stiffly under June’s glare, while Arcee merely scowled. The group had been discussing a potential plan to reinstate the knowledge of the Primes using Vector Sigma and the card key bestowed upon Jack, and initiate Optimus’ ‘contingency plan.’ With any luck, it would also restore Optimus’ memories since becoming a Prime. However, with Vector Sigma on Cybertron, the journey has proven to be extremely difficult to plan for.

“June’s right. Why send a boy to do a bot’s job?” Agent Fowler asked, stepping next to June and leaning against the railing.

“Because only a Prime can access Vector Sigma. Or one chosen by a Prime,” Ratchet gestured towards Jack in emphasis. “Optimus gave the keycard to Jack. It is now imprinted with his unique bio signature.”

“Can’t you just copy Jack’s signature, or something?” June demanded. “I find it hard to believe Optimus would willingly endanger a human. A child!”

“I-I’m not a child, mom,” Jack defended.

“With your earth technology? I highly doubt it,” Ratchet snapped at June’s question.

“Well then,” The familiar deep voice of Wheeljack interjected as he stepped into the main room. “It’s a good thing you have me around. We could try to see if we could repurpose any of the tech I have stashed aboard the Jackhammer to try and mask Jack’s signature onto the cardkey.”

“Thanks, Jackie,” Bulkhead’s expression softened as he smiled at his fellow Wrecker. Wheeljack smiled back and accepted a friendly shoulder bump from Bulkhead. “I knew it was a good idea to call you.”

Ratchet shook his helm in exasperation, “All of which is moot.”

His tone caused everyone in the room to shift their gaze back at Ratchet. “The key card is useless to us without a means of reaching Cybertron. Which we, at present, do not possess.”

“Dude,” Miko pranced over to the edge of the railing and pointed at the inactive ground bridge. “What about that?”

Arcee couldn’t help but roll her optics in annoyance while Ratchet prepared a scathing retort, however it was Raf who interrupted first.

“Miko,” Raf chided, “The ground bridge barely got them to Earth’s orbit, remember?”

“Yeah, but Ratchet built it. Can’t he just turbocharge the thing?”

Ratchet bristled in annoyance before his expression became contemplative, as if considering Miko’s suggestion.

“Wait,” Jack asked. “The Decepticons, didn’t they just steal something useful like that?”

“Yes, we managed to allow them to acquire another power source. No doubt it could power something big along the lines of a space bridge.” Ratchet answered, his voice oozing with annoyance.

“Great, we let them finish building their space bridge,” Jack concluded.

Arcee shot Jack a look as she turned to him, “Why, exactly, would we let them finish?”

“So they can let them bring more zombies back from Cybertron?” Bulkhead sarcastically interjected.

“No,” Jack stated firmly, “So we can commandeer it and use it to send a squad to Cybertron.”

“Whoa,” Miko breathed, “That’s a pretty good idea.”

“Oho, well if Miko thinks it’s a good idea!” Arcee sneered.

Arcee’s agitation was building, and Jack could feel the tension in the room rise. “N-nobody is saying it’s going to be easy, but you’ve seized a space bridge before,” he insisted.

“We blew one up,” Bulkhead clarified, “That’s a whole lot different than seizing and holding one.”

Bumblebee beeped in response, stepping in the middle of the group and resting his gaze on Arcee.

“Bee’s right. We’d have to find the thing first,” Arcee mused, as if Bumblebee and brought up a valuable point.

“Like tryna find a servo in a scrapyard,” Wheeljack input.

“Then… maybe we better start looking,” Arcee concluded, giving Wheeljack a defeated look.

“But the fact remains,” Ratchet insisted. “We do not know what the Decepticons have in store for Optimus. Or if he is truly safe from harm.”

“Hey, one step at a time, Doc,” Wheeljack offered, “We’ll start with what we can do now, like that masking concept June thought up.”

Wheeljack’s words felt like they were meant for everyone, not just Ratchet. For not being a team player, the Wrecker sure knew what to say to ease everyone’s anxieties. A moment of silence fell over the group before Ratchet ex-vented in defeat.

“I’ll see if I can find anything useful on biosignature properties while you check your supplies,” with that the medic turned back to his console and began typing away.

- - -

Orion briskly made his way to his workstation, his mind buzzing with unpleasant thoughts. His break was still far from over, but he did not wish to remain in the common room any longer. The privacy of his workstation suddenly sounded quite appealing.

“Oh my, Orion Pax, is that you?”

Orion stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of his name being called out. The voice was unfamiliar, but was spoken with a regal quality. The ex-Autobot leader hesitantly turned around to see a much shorter and slender dark figure stride towards him. Their bright purple optics cut through the shadows of the dark hallways and their gold plated accent caught the light as they moved.

“Why, it is you,” the voice registered as feminine just as Orion noticed the six arachnoid limbs extending from the newcomer’s backside. She flashed him a hypnotic smile as she closed the distance between them. “I have been very much looking forward to meeting you.”

“Ah… greetings,” The way she enunciated the word ‘very’ had sent a chill down his frame. “Yes, I am Orion Pax. You must be our second in command.”

“Absolutely, please call me Airachnid. It seems you and I are the two most recent additions to the Decepticons,” the dark plated commander leisurely stepped next to Orion, her field brushing against his own in a presumptuously friendly manner. Her optics pulled upwards in narrow slits as she continued, “That means we can help each other to properly find our rightful places within the team.”

Orion realized his struts had stiffened as Airachnid continued to lean closer. Despite being nearly half his size, her presence loomed much larger than he expected. Orion wanted to step back and create some distance, but worried that doing so would appear as a rude gesture. Who was he to reject a friendly greeting? Perhaps Airachnid had different cultural expectations for a friendly greeting that he was unfamiliar with. Hence, he tried to keep his stance and ignore the uncomfortable proximity.

“I would be grateful to have another individual to confer with,” Orion said, trying to infuse as much lightheartedness into his words as possible.

“As would I,” Airachnid agreed sweetly, “You know how disconnected it can feel when we all work so separately from one another. If you need any guidance from me, I hope you wouldn't hesitate to reach out.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Orion nodded with unnaturally rigid movements as he attempted to lean back in an undetected manner. “I will be sure to keep that in mind.”

“You are ever so welcome,” she soothed, “In fact, what does our dearest Megatron have you working on lately? I’m certain I could-”

“-It pains me to cut this conversation short-t.”

Orion jumped as Airachnid instinctively pulled away at the sound of Megatron’s recorded voice. Both mecha turned to find Soundwave standing forebodingly still behind Orion. He has been perfectly obscured by Orion's large frame, and neither of them had detected his presence.

“Soundwave,” Airachnid’s melodic voice dropped its sing-song quality as she addressed the communications officer. “Did you need something?”

A small wave of relief fell from Orion as Airachnid’s attention was finally taken off him.

Soundwave took an uncomfortably long moment to answer with two Megatron quotes spliced together, “When Orion Pax emerges he is to be shown every courtesy-y. // Let’s proceed with the task at hand-d.”

To Orion’s dismay, Airachnid narrowed her optics threateningly, “I was merely passing by. It was only polite of me to introduce myself to our new analyst. He deserves to know who his commanding officer is, after all.”
The communications officer merely stood, visor blank. Despite not having visible optics, Orion could sense Soundwave’s stare boring into Airachnid. The silent clicks continued to pass as the air became increasingly tense, Orion dared not move or say anything.

“Anything else?” Airachnid asked with an edge in her tone as she stepped closer to face Soundwave directly.

What is she doing? Orion could scarcely believe what he was witnessing. He was unsure if the second in command had a higher rank than a communications officer within their forces, but Soundwave’s indisputable seniority and skillset were enough to make any reasonable individual back down.

The two slender Decepticons continued to glower at one another for a long moment. Orion had not seen Soundwave in the heat of combat before, but he was certain he was about to find out in the next few clicks. Ultimately it was Airachnid who made the first move.

“Fine,” She seethed as she turned her helm to the side, “I’ll be taking my leave.”

She continued to glare at Soundwave as she maneuvered past him. Then she called out in a melodic voice, “I hope to see you again soon, Orion.”

With that, the second in command padded away into the dark corridors. Orion released an ex-vent just as Soundwave turned around to face him.

“Er… thank you?” Orion offered, unsure if Soundwave had intended to come to his rescue or not.

Instead of responding with another recording, Soundwave simply stared back for a few moments before leisurely turning around and departed down a different corridor.

Orion shivered one last time before scurrying back to the safety of his workspace. There were no doubt dynamics aboard the ship he had been oblivious to this entire time, and he was hoping he could make it back to his workstation before anyone else could interrupt him.

- - -

The Nemesis floated above the cloud line in Earth’s atmosphere, surrounded by thick gray clouds. A squadron of five Eradicons flew in a “v” formation after a routine perimeter patrol, fast approaching the Decepticon vessel. Unbeknownst to the squadron, a sixth jet followed closely in their blind spot at a safe distance.

The squadron arched sharply and soared over the Nemesis’ landing dock before safely entering the open landing bay, the sixth jet close behind. The squadron nonchalantly transformed into their base modes as the bay door closed behind them. The sounds of their transformation and the closing bay door concealed the sounds of the trespasser’s transformation, revealing themself to be the Decepticon’s ex-second in command; Starscream.

Starscream stealthily hid amongst the shadows and behind corners of the Nemesis halls until the Eradicon squadron had made their way to their stations on the top level of the vessel. Starscream passed further into the familiar lower levels until he found himself near the energon storage vault.

He hesitantly glanced down the halls behind him, relieved that no alarms had been set off yet. If he had timed his infiltration correctly, he should be able to make it to the energon vault and escape before anyone would notice his presence.

Scurrying around a corner located in a four way intersection, Starscream rushed to the final corner before the energon vault. His lines pulsed with anticipation as he peaked around the corner, hoping to see the usual single guard protecting the vault entrance.

To his disappointment, the energon vault had two guards stationed outside, and the farthest one just happened to be facing his direction.

“Starscream!” the farthest of the two Vehicons called out, causing both guards to ready their weaponry.

Instead of hiding or choosing a different route to the energon storage vault, Starscream decided to deliberately turn the corner and put on his most confident airs.

“That’s commander Starscream,” the seeker corrected smoothly.

The Vehicons stuttered in place as Starscream continued in their direction.

“What’s your malfunction? Lower those weapons immediately,” The ex-commander ordered.

Two guards each shared a nervous glance as they stepped backwards, “I’m sorry sir, but Lord Megatron ordered that you be taken into custody, should you ever return to the ship.”

The silver seeker noticed that they held their weapons close to their chassis at the ready. However, they did not seem eager to engage Starscream in combat, for which he was grateful.

“What?” Starscreamed feigned his best attempt at ignorance. “Huh, clearly there has been a mistake.”

Without missing a beat, Starscream violently back-handed the Vehicon to his left, causing a readied laser bullet to fire upwards. The bullet met the overhead light and created a miniature static explosion that caused the light to fail. The former Decepticon commander took the opportunity to ready his talons and disarm the two troops before him with two swift slices. Their transformed servos clanged to the ground, and their bodies were thrust against the reinforced wall behind them with Starscream’s sharp digits gripping their intakes.

“Hungggzzz…” was the only sound the Vehicons could make in protest as Starscream’s talons pierced their armor and searched for a specific neck cable.

“It should be around here… ah. There we go.” With a forceful slice and the sound static, Starscream severed the cable that relayed central neural commands to the rest of the Vehicon’s chassis. It wouldn’t kill them, but they would be as good as scrap metal in their comatose state.

Starscream lowered his servos and allowed his victim’s bodies to scrape the wall as they collapsed to the ground. For good measure he turned to the ceiling and easily identified the concealed camera that monitored the entrance of the energon storage vault. Severing the connection would send a warning message that would automatically ping Soundwave, so instead Starscream reached down to the closest Vehicon body and ripped the silver finial from the side of their helm with metallic shriek. Once severed, he threw the sharp finial at the concealed camera with sharp precision as if it were a throwing knife.

The curved antenna pierced the camera lens with a shink and had successfully cracked the glass into various segments. The cracks and the antenna itself would at least obstruct the camera’s feed and allow him a few extra moments of operating undetected.

“It will have to do for now,” Starscream muttered as he turned heel and headed inside the storage vault.

The ex-commander located the closest stack of energon cubes and wasted no time grabbing as many as he could carry. After some fumbling and knocking over adjacent cube towers, Starscream resolved to only take four cubes since that would be the maximum amount he could reasonably carry in his alt mode.

With a stack of four cubes secure, Starscream quietly exited the energon storage vault and avoided the Vehicon bodies as he gingerly stepped in the direction he had arrived.

He made it past the first corner when he heard the unmistakable sound of pede steps behind him. He turned his helm back and growled to himself as he identified more than one set of pedes getting louder. He thought he had avoided the patrol of this area with his timing, but luck did not appear to be on his side.

There should be an empty workspace used for storage farther down. Picking up the pace, Starscream rushed farther down the hallway until he came across a familiar workstation door. He slowed his pace and motion sensors activated to open the way inside the room.

Starscream padded inside and smiled mischievously to himself while the doors closed behind him. He had scored himself another momentary reprise to figure out his escape.

Relief immediately drained from his chassis as he heard two heavy pedes just ahead of him, Starscream moved the stack of energon cubes to the side and gasped as he recognized the familiar frame of Optimus Prime. The large Autobot leader turned to face him with a confused expression, as the console behind him displayed lines of complicated code.

“No,” Strascream objected in awe, “Optimus Prime!”

The seeker dropped his precious energon cubes without a second thought and readied his missiles in a defensive stance.

The bot who appeared to be Optimus Prime froze and only blinked in shock as Starscream stepped threateningly closer.

“Please, I mean no harm,” the red and blue mech pleaded, placing an earnest servo on his chest above his spark.

“No!?” Starscream hollered, “Then, what are you doing here!?”

“Research, for Megatron,” Orion answered desperately.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Stasrcream scoffed, clearly unconvinced.

Orion Pax took a moment to observe the intruder- silver, sharp wings, red accents, thin frame. He did not recognize this individual from his own memories, but his research helped him piece the situation together.

“You are Starscream,” Orion stated as slowly and calmly as possible.

“Yes?” Starscream answered in a perplexed manner.

“You used to be Megatron's second in command. I am Orion Pax. I am… far from being a Prime.” Orion raised his brows in regretful expression. “And I am sorry for the atrocities I have committed under the mantle of Optimus Prime. I wish to assure you that I have regained control of my old self again, and am no longer an Autobot tool.”

It was Starscream’s turn to freeze and stare, his red optics wide in disbelief. While searching Orion’s frame for any hidden weapons, his optics finally fell upon the Decepticon brand on the red mech’s shoulder plating. He clamped his mouth shut and lowered his servos slowly as he processed the situation.

“Is that so…?” His voice trailed as he wracked his processor for an explanation. Perhaps Megatron and Soundwave had managed to torture Optimus Prime until he had gone mad? Or perhaps they had found a relic that deleted memories? Or perhaps this was some kind of undocumented side effect of dark energon experimentation? He had certainly missed a lot in his time away from the Decepticons.

“Yes, it is true. I no longer have any memories of my time as Optimus Prime, and so I do not know if I have personally wronged you in the past. Regardless, I would like to apologize, I can assure you my past actions were not my own.”

“Right,” Starscream stood straighter and reset his vocalizer. “And now you’re doing research for Megatron?”

“That is correct. I will do anything I can to help Megatron restore Cybertron and defeat the Autobots,” Orion asserted with conviction, “It is the least I can do after everything he has endured.”

Oh my, Starscream thought to himself, Megatron managed to manipulate and cage his archnemesis while I was gone?

However, something was not adding up in Starscream’s processor. Why hadn’t Megatron simply terminated Optimus Prime when he had the chance? Why keep him alive for some research when he had Soundwave at his disposal? The Megatron he knew would not hesitate to seize the opportunity to kill Optimus Prime by his own hand.

Starscream fixed his red gaze onto the monitors mounted behind Orion. The lines of code were no doubt encrypted, and he had no idea what Orion could be attempting to glean from the seemingly endless lines of code. Whatever it was, it must be important enough for Megatron to keep this ‘Orion Pax’ alive. Unless there were other motives at play…

“And then what?” Starscream pressed. Orion tilted his helm and cycled his optics in quiet confusion.

For the love of all that glitters, Starscream mocked internally. “After you finish your research for Lord Megatron, then what?”

“Then… I help with whatever the next task at hand would be. However, Megatron states that this is a paramount-”

“Lord Megatron says many things,” Starscream interrupted in a matter-of-fact tone, “Only some of which are true.”

Orion’s wide blue optics narrowed in suspicion as he pulled his field closer to himself. “You do not suggest Megatron speaks falsehoods?”

A silence fell between the two bots before Starscream’s expression fell away to a relieved smile.

“Pah hahaha!” The seeker howled, his piercing laughter bouncing off the walls of Orion’s workstation. Orion could only bring himself to temper his indignation as the ex-Decepticon commander regained control of himself.

“You truly are being kept in the dark, aren’t you,” Starscream commented as the grin grew across his faceplate.

Orion stiffened before stepping closer to Starscream, inspecting the seeker’s field for an inkling of his true intentions. “You speak in many riddles, Starscream. Please, tell me one thing. Why did you desert the Decepticons?”

Starscream took a step backwards and contemplated Orion’s question, “And in return…?”

“You may just make it past the landing dock with your stolen goods,” Orion gestured to the ground where the abandoned energon cubes lay scattered. “I’m sure scouting for energon on your own isn’t easy.”

“Hmph,” The seeker’s sharp optics narrowed as he considered his position. “How generous of you to take pity on such a lonely creature.”

Orion bit back an annoyed sigh, “Well?”

After a few strained moments, the ex-Decepticon seeker relented.

“Fine,” Starscream locked optics and took a poised step forward. “I left because Megatron did not value my contributions as second in command. He was eager to replace me with Airachnid. Never bothered to try and find me after Airachnid left me for scrap on a joint mission, so I struck out on my own.”

“Did you bring up your dissatisfaction with Megatron before-”

Despite Orion's earnest tone, Starscream's field crackled with anger at the mere suggestion. “Oh please, do you even know who you’re talking about!?”

Orion was startled and Starscream’s wings drooped as he realized how loud he had yelled. He begrudgingly continued in a quieter manner, but his tone remained venomous.

“Megatron would sooner beat me into scrap for overstepping my station than entertain my feedback,” he hissed, “You would do well to try to make yourself useful after this little research project of yours. Megatron doesn't care much for keeping bots around that don't benefit him.”

“In fact… There's always room for more in my fold,” Starscream’s tone dropped its shrill quality as he spied an opportunity, “I could try to find a way to get you out of here.”

“I think you misunderstand. I am not a prisoner,” Orion insisted. “Seeing how famished you are, it would be best to stay aboard and attempt to strike a peace with Megatron. There is strength in numbers.”

“No,” he hissed again, “He'll terminate me for deserting and attempting to trespass.”

“The directive Megatron gave to the troops is to detain you, not harm you.”

“Yes! To cage me and humiliate me until he decides to finally rid himself of me with the only language he knows,” Starscream narrowed his optics, “violence.”

Orion stared at Starscream in disbelief, the mech that was being described to him was nothing like the Megatron he had witnessed while aboard the ship. Let alone his fellow revolutionary from Cybertron.

Yet, Starscream did not appear to be intentionally lying, at least from what Orion could tell. The seeker’s words were fervent as if he were reciting the only statements he knew to be true. There was also an undeniable desperation in his voice as if he needed Orion to believe him.

He is afraid of Megatron, that much is certain, Orion concluded. The details would have to wait, as Starscream was beginning to look like a cornered animal that was ready to escape- even if it was without his energon.

“Starscream, please,” Orion pleaded, “I do not wish for any harm to come to you. I cannot join you, but I am willing to vouch for your safe return and integration.”

To stress his intentions, Orion extended Starscream a servo in good will. He flared his field outwards and projected a hesitant smile as he ignored his own concerns about Starscream’s words. Starscream’s safety takes precedence over the details, especially with the Autobots still at large.

Starscream skeptically cycled his optics twice and studied Orion’s outstretched servo. Orion thought he saw Starscream’s servo twitch as he leaned forward, just before the workspace door parted abruptly.

“Starscream!” Cyl’s deep voice thundered, “Surrender!”

The pair turned to see Cyl accompanied by two lower ranked Eradicon soldiers, weapons at the ready, and completely obstructing the workspace’s only exit.

“Auhg!” Starscream squawked as he dashed behind Orion’s much larger frame for protection.

“Any hostility towards Orion will not be tolerated!” Cyl warned, adjusting his aim.

“Hold your fire!” Orion begged, but his words came out sounding more like an order as he raised his voice.

The ex-archivist’s processor began to race attempting to best identify what best means to de-escalate the situation.

However, it was Starscream who made the first move. Orion felt the seeker’s cold servos push him forward followed closely by the sound of him transforming into his alt-mode. Orion’s spark sank as he instinctively crouched closer to the ground as Starscream flew overhead, disappearing down the Nemesis corridors. The seeker’s thrusters filled the room with the scent of engine exhaust.

Cyl and his fellow Eradicons swiveled to face the direction Starscream had fled. “Remain in the lab,” Cyl commanded, without turning around to face Orion.

“But I-,”

“Soundwave’s orders,” the Eradicon captain interrupted with a defensive edge to his voice. Not wasting any time, Cyl locked the workstation door with a few taps on the control panel, and gave his fellow Eradicons a warning look. He transformed into his own alt-mode to fly after the ex-commander, alone.

From inside the workstation, Orion heard Cyl transform in pursuit of Starscream. The red and blue mech approached the exit but the automatic sensors did not open the door for him, just as he had anticipated.

In desperation, Orion opened his comms and pulled up Cyl’s PHF.

.:He meant no harm- He only wanted energon!:.

- - -

Megatron often found himself staring at the ceiling of his hab-suite, unable to properly power down while his mind wandered to the curious case of Orion Pax. Today was no exception as the warlord laid on his curiously plain berth. Despite how long it had been, it was still a strange sensation to see Orion's username in the Communication Grid. Seeing Orion in person was also a rare sight considering they had only had three meaningful conversations since his arrival.

He would never admit it, but the silver mech found himself itching to check in on Orion daily to ensure he still remained loyal and was not harboring any suspicions. However, he also worried that too much time near Orion could make things worse. What if a certain phrase or mannerism triggered old memories? What if Orion found the new Megatron to be too disagreeable?

And yet, those were not the main reasons for Megatron finding various excuses to avoid spending prolonged periods of time with Orion. Whether he liked to believe it or not, Orion was like a phantom. He existed as a distant figment from memories too painful to recall. Of course he wanted to talk with Orion and discuss all manner of things. Nevertheless, that would require him to face the past and reconnect with his dearest friend.

His dearest friend, who's betrayal cut deeper and sharper than any blade, now resided on the same ship. He would have laid down his life for Orion on Cybertron, and yet Orion was responsible for his greatest failure. How could he bring himself to open back up to the one who sent him spiraling down the path of fire and destruction?

It was easier to despise Optimus for obstructing his path to create a new social order for Cybertron. To blaze down the path of conquest knowing Optimus’ attempts to stop him only fueled his actions further. It was simple.

But Orion was complicated. Unlike himself, Orion was optimistic and untainted by the evils of their world. Even as a relatively naive middle caste bot, the archivist consumed knowledge so that he would better understand the circumstances of their time. He saw the suffering of others and dared imagine a better life, inspired (of course) by his own speeches. He stood beside Megatronus and supported his efforts with zeal. And yet... he had been the one to crush his spark when no one else had ever gotten close. Against the warnings, he allowed Orion into his fold, and he paid dearly for it.

Was having Orion on board a chance to forge a new path together, or were they doomed to repeat the past once again?

These mental scenarios serve me no purpose, Megatron lamented. He despised complications that did not have clear answers, especially when he found himself faltering on the precipice of unknown possibilities. He had promised to try and rekindle a version of the closeness they once had. For the sake of trying to uphold his end of the agreement, he would need to try and remember at least some of those bittersweet memories. He needed to remember what he was getting into.

But those distant memories loomed like some kind of unknown beast within his memory banks. A beast that could prove to be too dangerous and damaging to tame. It had always been there, lurking and patiently waiting for an opportunity to make itself known once more. He would sooner challenge every monster in Earth’s mythos to a fight than approach his own metaphorical monster of memories.

However, the time for personal preferences had passed when he agreed to bend to Orion’s request. He needed to at least review those old memories for what they were, otherwise he would no doubt continue to subconsciously interpret Orion’s straightforward comments as indirect offenses. There was also the proximity to Optimus Prime that occasionally gnawed at his processor, which did not help.

Megatron had closed his crimson optics and managed to navigate through his internal HUD prompts to his memory bank. He took his time passing any relatively recent sections until he finally arrived at the memories from his time on Cybertron. He lingered here for a bit before sorting deeper, skipping past the memories of early Autobot battles and assaults on major cities. The dread continued to build as he scrolled further back, before Iacon and the abduction of Sentinel Prime. He opted to pick a moment at random, as the longer he lingered on the timeframe the more frightening the beast became. The more likely he was to close the entire operation and move on with his day.

With a dubious stroke Megatron mentally selected a memory at random to recall, and braced himself as if a mace were to strike him.

Location: City of Kaon, Shockwave’s bench.
Date: 0725.50.2010 Age: Rust
Context: Post Gladiatorial Tournament, undergoing repairs.
Room occupants: Shockwave, Soundwave, Ravage.

“Your chassis will be reinforced with rarified energon, and the severed sections of your armor will be utilized to finish Project: Empress,” Shockwave droned as he used a specialized scalpel to to remove crumbling bits of Megatronus’ armor plating that had been damaged in the heat of battle. The removed bits landed with a clang on a metal tray beside him.

“Hm,” Is all Megatronus could muster in response.

“Soundwave and Ravage have also made progress identifying Sentinel Prime’s close guards,” the scientist added with a monotone expression.

Soundwave stepped forward and cycled his visor through the images of three elite Vosnian seekers and announced in deep synthesized voice; “Designations: Skywarp, Thundercracker. Commander: Starscream.”

“Excellent work. Continue to monitor our Prime for any behavioral patterns we can use to our advantage,” the gladiatorial champion ordered, sounding a bit distracted. Soundwave merely nodded and offlined his visor while Ravage curiously studied Megatronus.

Shockwave interrupted the conversation, “Your optics are overdue for replacement. Avoiding replacement now will risk fracturing and severe vision impairment during the next gladiatorial fight. I have sourced new lenses anticipating this possibility and can have them replaced tonight.”

“What color are the replacement lenses?” Megatronus asked flatly.

Shockwave stopped his welding and gazed curiously at Megatronus. “Red. Matching your current lenses.”

“Save them then. I want my next pair to be blue.”

Shockwave and Soundwave glanced at each other in confusion, then Shockwave looked back at Megatronus, “That would be an illogical choice. Blue toned lenses have the weakest infrastructure of all optic types, it would be more efficient to remain with the red toned lenses to refrain from needing more frequent repairs and replacements.”

“That is exactly why I request blue lenses,” Megatronus answered evenly. “If I am so undefeatable and infallible in the pits, then blue lenses serve as a testament to my strength. Besides, blue optics are not the exclusive birthright of high caste bots who can afford them.”

Silence followed before Soundwave finally nodded, “A comment on social norms. A means of expressing individualism in the view of the autocracy.”

Shockwave absorbed Soundwave's translation and turned back to Megatronus, “Your reasoning is… acceptable. I will procure a pair of compatible blue lenses with Swindle’s aid.”

“Good,” Megatronus turned his attention back to the ceiling as another thought struck him. Before he had fully registered the thought, he spoke, “We may be receiving a visitor in the coming Mega-Cycles, and I would like the new lenses to be installed well before then. Our visitor’s background will offer a unique insight to our cause.”

This time it was Soundwave who eventually answered, “Slaughter City: spy?”

“No, this individual is not adept in field work,” Megatronus re-experienced a wave of uncertainty when deciding how best to present the new friend he had made. “He is more of a passive expert on current events who wishes to play a more active role in Cybertron’s future.”

Shockwave stops his work once again to ask, “One can only conclude this individual is an advisor of sorts. However, our cause is not in need of an advisor.”

“If we seek to unite the masses against the caste system, then his perspective will prove to be particularly valuable.”

Soundwave was not one to lose patience, but based on the way Ravage flicked her tail in exasperation, Soundwave must have been a bit annoyed by the lack of specific information Megatronus offered. “Designation?”

Megatronus hesitated, “... Orion Pax of Iacon.”

A stunned silence followed, even Ravage stopped flicking her tail and padding around. Soundwave began flashing lines of data as he scanned records for anything deeper on an “Orion Pax” as if to grasp for stability.

“Megatronus,” Shockwave began, “From personal experience I would like to advise against the inclusion of any Iaconians into our cause. Their position as beneficiaries of the system prevents them from understanding any philosophies outside of Functionalism.”

“Not this one,” Megatronus insisted. “Orion is a rare gem amidst the slag of Iacon. He understands the need for change and had every chance to report my heresy to the council itself. Instead he chose to discuss his thoughts with me directly.”

Soundwave had come up with nothing of interest from his scans and turned back to the conversation at hand. “Behavior: questionable. Orion Pax: potential spy.”

Anger burned within Megatronus, while in the present he ached in retrospect. “I trust him. If you would only meet him you would come to the same conclusion.”

“Unnecessary,” Shockwave stated bluntly. “No rational Iaconian of a high station would believe in our cause, let alone support it and risk their livelihood.”

The insinuation that Orion was not a rational bot was the breaking point for Megatronus. “Orion is an extremely intelligent bot with a rare willingness to understand our perspective. I would not waste my time with useless filth.” The silver gladiator glared daggers at them both, “You would both do well to remember that-”

Megatron, in the present, forced the feed closed. He exited every prompt in his memory bank and reset his internal HUD. He retreated back to reality before the monstrous memories could shame him further. Resentment and indignity crackled throughout his field as he grit his dentae and forced his optics open into slits. There was no way he could bring himself to continue.

Shockwave and Soundwave had been right to question Orion, even if he hated to admit it with every fiber of his being. Megatron could still feel the memory with clarity, how wholeheartedly he had believed in Orion’s intentions and how firmly he would have defended him. Orion was his friend, not some spy.

“Useless,” he hissed to himself as leaned forward and placed his helm in his digits as his processor ached. This was why he chose to ignore the past, the present was at least manageable.

His silent grumbling was interrupted by a notification from Soundwave.

.:Urgent ongoing situation: Starscream is aboard the Nemesis:.

“What?”

.:Confirmed contact made with 2 Vehicons and Orion Pax. Deserter is currently being pursued by an Eradicon captain:.

“What!?”

.:Deserter infiltrated during self maintenance and recharge period. Intentions: calculated:.

Megatron pounced onto the cold floor and dashed out of his hab-suite like a bloodthirsty turbo-fox. The hallway details blurred as they flew past and he eased into a full sprint. The ex-gladiator’s lines pulsed with rage as his processor jumped to the worst possible conclusions- envisioning Starscream seizing the opportunity to harm his little archivist in any number of creative ways.

The woefully unprepared seeker had no doubt tried his luck for the last time.

Chapter Text

“Starscream, stand down!” an Eradicon called out in a gruff voice.

Starscream’s exit route was now filled with hostile troops freely firing upon him as he flew by in his alt-mode. His lines screamed with distress as he forced himself to spin and arc around corners to avoid as much incoming fire as possible. Despite his best efforts to fly as fast as he could in such a tight space, he could not shake the single Eradicon that had stubbornly pursued him from the lower levels.

“What do you want, a promotion!?” Starscream mocked, annoyed with how stubbornly this Eradicon continued to tail him.

Not waiting for a response, Starscream transformed out of his alt mode to latch onto his pursuer and dig his sharp heels into the soldier's plating.

The Eradicon flinched painfully, “What the-”

Just as Starscream transformed his right servo into a laser weapon, the Eradicon spun in a full 360 degree motion to shake Starscream off. He heard Starscream crash to the floor once, before initiating another transformation and aiming a clear missile shot at his rear.

The Eradicon’s internal HUD beeped in warning as Starscream launched a missile. Hastily, the Eradicon captain transformed out of his alt-mode and ungracefully landed onto the Nemesis floor. His plating screeched along the cold floor as he slid to a halt.

The missile continued past where Cyl had been, and collided with the Nemesis’ bay doors farther ahead. Starscream continued at his current speed as the explosion had granted him an exit. The explosion’s heat washed over his frame for only a split second before fresh air buffeted him.

There was another squadron of Eradicons on the ship’s deck, speedily initiating their transformation sequences to give chase, but Starscream had already begun his descent.

The small squadron of Eradicons finished their transformations and were firing wildly in Starscream’s direction. The ex-commander took evasive maneuvers as he descended further, he just needed to make it past the cloud line so he could lose visual contact with his pursuers…

Suddenly, a hot pain stung Starscream’s rear thruster as his internal HUD screeched in warning. He howled in pain as he registered the grievous hit that had damaged one of his most vital components. He found himself free falling as his thrusters failed to restart.

The wind wailed in his audials as he plummeted closer to the Earth’s surface. The clouds blurred above him and his internal circuits twisted with fear.

Fraught with alarm, Starscream transformed at the last possible moment in hopes of saving his spark.

- - -

“To the best of your memory, approximately how long was the trespasser present in your workstation?”

“...maybe a breem or so? It was not long,” Orion struggled to recall exactly how long Starscream had been in his work space, but was getting a bit worn out with all of the questions the ‘investigative’ Vehicon had for him. He had expected maybe a handful of questions, but the Vehicon had asked him at least twenty different questions thus far.

He was beginning to wish he had just gone to Megatron directly with his recount of the event. At least then he would be able to clarify some of his concerns directly with his old friend.

“I see,” The Vehicon nodded in understanding. He had exceptionally clean and unmarred plating compared to most other troops. “Did the trespasser seem to have any ulterior motives, besides stealing energon?”

“No, my presence derailed him from his priority.”

“And you are certain he did not have any indication of your presence aboard the ship?”

“Yes, I am cert-”

“ORION!”

Orion, the investigator, and the single Eradicon guard behind them bristled with alarm as Megatron’s holler reverberated down the hallways. The call was followed by the heavy pounding of pedes and an increasing sense of alarm. Before anyone could move, Megatron’s frame came into view, racing with extreme urgency in Orion’s direction. The Eradicon and Vehicon instinctively pulled away from Orion when Megatron showed no indication of slowing down. Orion, however, was frozen in place and completely panicked by Megatron's behavior.

The Decepticon leader screeched to a halt directly in front of Orion and gripped both of his shoulder’s fiercely in his servos. Orion attempted to raise his own servos defensively, but Megatron’s iron grip prevented him free range of movement. Alarms went off in his internal HUD warning him of possible incoming danger.

“You aren’t in any way harmed, are you?” Megatron demanded, his crimson optics scanning Orion urgently, hunting for any evidence of damage.

For a moment, Orion could only stare blankly back at Megatron, unable to properly reply.

“I-I um,” Orion muttered, his processor still reeling, “No, I am unharmed.”

Megatron ex-vented in relief, but did not release Orion’s shoulder’s from his grip. Instead, his optics continued to investigate Orion’s expression and plating. “He did not do or say anything troubling to you?”

“No. Well, actually,” Orion found himself wanting to calm Megatron’s nerves, but could not bring himself to lie about being troubled by Starscream’s words.

“I did not fully understand him, but once I explained I was no longer Optimus Prime he made no hostile advances towards me. He was desperate to escape with only the necessary fuel to continue functioning. He was just as surprised as I was.”

“I… see,” Megatron looked thoughtful for a moment, only slightly loosening his grip.

Orion had nearly forgotten about the Eradicon and Vehicon who now stood a few paces away, staring in astonishment as their leader continued to question Orion with such concern. Orion considered calling out to them so as to not appear rude, but Megatron continued.

“Perhaps it’s best to forget the entire incident,” The silver mech concluded. “We will readdress our current security measures to ensure this never happens again. You did not deserve to receive such an alarming disturbance.”

Megatron’s voice was laden with concern, and his vocalizer sounded coarse- no doubt from his previous bout of hollering. Despite his own old nagging concerns, it seemed Megatron truly did care deeply for his safety and well-being. He had never seen Megatron react so panicked in his life, let alone towards him.

Perhaps Megatron truly did see him as a close friend, deep down somewhere.

… or maybe it was something about Starscream that alarmed him?

“Megatron,” Orion began, “Starscream was frightened. I tried to suggest he return to the Decepticons and make peace with you, but he insisted that he would not be… welcome.”

Orion decided against using Starscream’s exact word choice for fear of what kind of answer he would receive. Instead, he chose to lead in carefully with generalities. Seeing Megtron’s optics blink in surprise, he was grateful he did.

“Ah, such is to be expected,” Megatron said evenly as he fully removed his servos from Orion’s shoulders and stood at his full height.

“Starscream has pulled a variety of stunts in his time as commander of the Decepticons, many of which were not appreciated by myself or other members of the team,” Megatron explained carefully, “His time away from the cause has no doubt left him feeling a bit reflective.”

Orion resisted raising a metal brow in silent questioning. Megatron’s implications and Starscream’s testimony did not fit together to create a clearer picture.

“He insisted that you both would be unwilling to work together,” Orion tried again.

“Yes, I’m sure Starscream would not find satisfaction with rejoining the Decepticons unless it was himself sitting atop as its leader. However, we cannot all bend to his self-serving desires,” Megatron arched a brow seeing Orion’s expression change to one of confusion.

“... Or did no one tell you about the various treacheries he has committed? All of which were in service of usurping me as leader?” Megatron finished.

“No, it was not something I was aware of,” Orion answered breathlessly.

This was indeed news to Orion, as Starscream had only been described as extremely ambitious within the Decepticon records. Perhaps if he had brought up Starscream with Knockout and Breakdown he would have been enlightened? Cyl had only mentioned what Starscream had meant to him, not his history with ex-commander.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself over, Orion,” Megatron assured him in a softer manner. For a moment Orion thought the Decepticon leader almost sounded eager to change the subject. “With any luck, that is the last we will see of Starscream for a long time. You only need to worry about your project, and allow the rest of us to deal with the details.”

“Of course… There is still a considerable amount of work ahead,” The ex-archivist answered warily.

“Take all the time you need to recover. Those codes are important, but your well-being is also a priority,” Megatron established before pausing for a moment. “I trust that you will let us know if you require anything at all?”

Orion noticed the troops behind him had regained themselves and were now standing at attention. He gave Megatron a respectful nod, “I will. Thank you.”

Seemingly satisfied, Megatron only blinked in response as he turned back down the halls. His servos now linked behind him and Orion noticed one of his digits twitching briefly.

Orion didn’t watch him go, instead he quickly turned inside his workstation and gave the Vehicons outside a polite wave goodbye before shutting the doors. Once safely inside, Orion couldn’t help but groan to himself as concerning questions with no clear answers buzzed in his processor.

- - -

Soundwave stood stiffly at the Command deck’s main console and reviewed the recording of Starscream’s infiltration for the third time. He watched in icy silence as the ex-second in command dispatched two Vehicon guards, snuck into the energon storage vault, and clumsily wandered into what the seeker no doubt assumed was an empty workspace. As expected, Starscream dropped the energon cubes as he recognized the familiar frame of Optimus Prime greeting him.

Soundwave’s joints and struts ached with exhaustion. He had been forced to wake from his extremely small window of recharge to Nemesis alarms scattered across his internal HUD. He didn’t require visual confirmation to assume Starscream was the culprit. He bit back a rising sense of dull vexation as he watched Starscream attempt to escape the warship with an Eradicon captain in pursuit. He had immediately sent Megatron a series of urgent notifications as a result.

The communications officer often alternated his window of recharge between two timeslots to avoid this very event from happening, but somehow Starscream had correctly guessed when he would be resting on this particular day. While reviewing the footage, Soundwave ran some evaluations on how to minimize his recharge time even further to prevent such events from happening in the future.

The dark mech roughly pulled one of his tendrils free from the main console, trying to minimize the amount of incoming data so he could re-evaluate recent events without additional distractions.

Airachnid was continuing to cause inconveniences. Despite Megatron’s attempts to keep her away from Orion, Airachnid chose to deliberately seek the mech out. Soundwave made himself known to make a point, that she would not be doing things under the radar any longer- especially after the previously attempted coup of hers.

Was she as bad as Starscream? No, at least not yet. After hundreds of meta-cycles, Starscream’s treachery became mostly predictable and somewhat manageable. Airachnid’s potential was yet to be seen, but Soundwave was not willing to wait and find out the hard way.

He would continue splitting his attention between general surveillance, the warship’s systems, Airachnid’s activities, monitoring Orion’s progress, logging the promoted captain’s progress, working out the internal kinks of the Space Bridge project, and submitting all relevant reports to Megatron’s channel accordingly. All of this did not include the ever growing list of issues reported with the MTO troops, who were not only declining in numbers, but also declining in basic performance. Aside from a small handful of troops selected for promotional roles, the rest of the cold constructs were displaying increasingly worse reaction times, aim accuracy, and processing discernment in combat. Small decreases in performance were noted upon their arrival to Earth, however the assessment results were now at an all time low. Soundwave could not identify the cause, let alone set aside time to investigate further into the matter.

It was becoming... An arduous load to carry. It was already perhaps too much before Starscream had shown up, but now it would only get more taxing while on high alert. Laserbeak jittered against his chest in response to his internal thoughts and sent a message though their shared connection.

Then we’ll need more energon.

Soundwave’s answer was immediate as he allowed the link between them access to his surface thoughts. Affirmative. You will not be left wanting fuel.

He calculated how much more energon he would need to allocate to his daily reserves for the extra labor he would be putting in for the foreseeable future. After running some calculations, he modified his energon request accordingly.

I wasn’t concerned for myself, Laserbeak expressed simply before closing the connection and powering down for a rest. His components nestled against his frame and the min-con’s spark pulsed in unison with his.

Soundwave allowed himself to bask in the silence as Laserbeak drifted into recharge. His processor wandered back to his current situation. There was no balance with the current Decepticon operation, which was something Soundwave had deeply valued with early forms of the cause. There was once order, supporting roles, and a symmetry of responsibility…all aspects that had begun to decay since leaving Cybertron.

If Shockwave were still alive he would willingly relinquish a third of his tasks to the more equipped scientist, especially the space bridge project. Losing contact with Shockwave was a heavy blow to the chain of command, and Soundwave grew increasingly displeased with Shockwave’s absence. They had served as the crux of leadership before Orion Pax’s arrival while back on Cybertron. If the Decepticon cause were to crumble then they were expected to be the last pillars to fall.

But all those wistful ambitions mattered not anymore. Soundwave would shoulder the labor in silence. This was his domain after all, and there was no one better equipped to complete these tasks than himself.

Ignoring the strained whirring of his processor, Soundwave re-connected his free tentacle into the console and continued his work.

- - -

It was the middle of a cold night in Jasper, Nevada’s well hidden Autobot base. Only Ratchet could be heard fidgeting with the ground bridge’s settings as his tools and digits softly clanged against the bridge’s components. His optics were fixed on the circuitry inside the opened panel before him, while his digits were covered with residue.

Their human companions had long since returned to their homes for the night. Arcee and Bumblebee had retired after escorting the three humans home while Bulkhead and Wheeljack had departed on a routine perimeter patrol. Ratchet expected the two wreckers to return any cycle now.

“Scrap,” the medic cursed loudly as he accidentally shocked himself with an exposed wire. He couldn’t help but reflexively retract his servo and frantically shake it as if to disperse the electricity.

He grunted deeply as he got a good look at the burn mark in his knuckles, along with all of the gunk and residue from attempting to re-calibrate the ground bridge’s internal systems. There was no use continuing, he had hit multiple obstacles with this project and his processor had begun to fizzle with fatigue. All of those long hours of work and bypassed breaks had finally caught up with him.

Ratchet absentmindedly put down his tools, stiffly got to his pedes, and hunched as he walked over to the polycloth storage adjacent to the main console. Overwhelmed, Ratchet’s processor became an increasingly barren landscape, where thoughts once flourished now withered in quiet surrender. All that remained was the usual shame at his own powerlessness and a newfound longing for his lost friend.

He removed most of the grime from his servos without much thought, and numbly abandoned the polycloth next to the dirty stack of previously used cloths. Before he could register what he was consciously doing, Ratchet had turned on the main console and navigated towards the section that displayed Autobot life signals. With a series of beeps, the familiar profiles of team Prime came into view; himself, Arcee, Optimus’ obscured and empty red vitals, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, and Bumblebee.

The medic deeply ex-vented, a small part of him relieved to see everyone else’s life signals still well and vibrant, but somehow disappointed to see Optimus’ signal still unaccounted for. He hadn’t expected anything to change, but still found himself checking privately in every spare moment he had.

Ratchet stared at Optimus’ empty vital lines. He needed to recharge, and start again during Earth’s next solar-cycle. He also needed a good cleaning and maybe then a newfound clarity would allow him a well-earned breakthrough.

And yet, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the monitor.

Ratchet’s frame slumped further, and his helm hung low.

I’m so sorry, Optimus.

His servo moved to his faceplate, covering his expression.

We’ve failed you. After everything you’ve done for us, we couldn’t even protect you when it mattered most.

The medic’s free servo fiercely gripped the console’s keyboard. His vents became increasingly strained as his lines throbbed with grief. For all he knew, Optimus might not even be alive and functioning. The mental image of a battered and beaten Optimus sent a chilling wave of anguish through his systems.

“I-I’m so sorry...”

The distant hum of two engines yanked Ratchet to the present. He minimized the life signals and opened a new window with ground bridge specifications. Ratchet hurriedly reset his vocalizer and stood straight despite his aching joints. In a matter of clicks, Wheeljack and Bulkhead entered the main room and transformed out of their vehicle modes.

“Nothing new to report,” Bulkhead announced as if there were others in the room to receive his update. Instead, his voice echoed back at him off the stony walls.

“Hmm,” was all Ratchet could offer in acknowledgement, he did not bother turning around or even nodding.

The two Wreckers silently exchanged concerned looks. Bulkhead shrugged, and Wheeljack narrowed his optics in worry on Ratchet’s frame.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” Wheeljack offered as he stepped closer to the medic, “How great would it be if we managed to finish the masking device tomorrow as well? I can feel it, we are getting close to figuring this out.”

Ratchet did nothing for a moment before nodding, optics glued to the monitor. “How fortunate that would be.”

“Uh,” Bulkhead began, “If you need any help from us Ratchet, you can always ask. We’re itching to help in any way we can.”

“I don’t need any help at this time, thank you Bulkhead,” Ratchet answered in a haggard manner.

Wheeljack’s expression contorted into one of scrutiny. The medic’s field and tone were even more irritated than usual, and his behavior was beginning to trouble him.

“You should get some rest, Doc,” The shorter Wrecker suggested as gently as he could, “You don’t look so-”

“I am fine,” Ratchet snapped, slamming his servos down next to the console keyboard. “And stop calling me, Doc.”

Wheeljack’s dark metal brows raised in surprise before furrowing further, but he tried again.

“I don’t think a bot who’s fine would-”

“What do you care, anyway!?” Ratchet finally swiveled around and directed his agitated optics in Wheeljack’s direction. Both wreckers jolted in place as they felt Ratchet’s field burst with exasperation.

“You’re probably thriving just fine with Optimus’s absence! No authority to boss you around with the burden of working as a team!” Ratchet barked, his servos slightly trembling.

Ratchet’s harsh words struck Wheeljack and Bulkhead like a backhanded smack to the faceplate. Neither mech made any move for a few moments before Bulkhead blinked and took two steps toward Ratchet.

“Ratchet, you don’t mean that,” Bulkhead said as he defensively stood between his two comrades, “You’re tired-,”

“Tired!?” Ratchet roared, “I’m nearly at my limit! I’ve never been more acutely aware of how pitiful our operation is. How useless we are! How, how-,”

Ratchet’s voice trailed off as his anger began to dissolve into hopelessness. Optimus wouldn’t approve of him raising his voice at these two, or any Autobot. His gaze and his servos dropped at his sides.

“H-how insufficient I am…” Ratched closed his optics and his voice faltered.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack could only stare in dismay.

“Ratchet…” Bulkhead hesitantly lifted a servo after a moment, but dropped it. Both Wrecker’s recognized the remnants of grime on Ratchet’s digits and the still fresh burn injury.

“Hey,” Wheeljack dared to interject, “It was your first day trying to mess with the ground bridge, you can’t blame yourself for not getting it right on the first try.”

“No,” the medic lowered his gaze shamefully, “It was pure folly. A misguided act of desperation. It takes eons to master space bridge engineering.”

He turned his back towards his companions and faced the console monitors, “And no one is more accomplished than the Decepticons.”

Wheeljack frowned and Bulkhead’s digits twitched uncomfortably, uncertain of what to say. Wheeljack began to lift a servo as if to speak, but was interrupted by the console monitor beeping a new notification. It was so urgent, that every screen in the base began to blink. Immediately, Ratchet opened the notification and began reading.

“What is it?” Bulkhead asked hopefully.

“A high frequency signal with an embedded message,” Ratchet paused, “For me..?”

“Is it Optimus?” the green Wrecker asked, his voice expectant.

Ratchet tapped the monitor to reveal a scan of a familiar Seeker’s biological data. All three bots shifted as they recognized the mech.

“Starscream,” Ratchet announced before scrolling further to read the message’s contents. After a moment he began to recite the message to the others out loud.

“I have obtained information regarding your leader. Bring a medical kit. Come alone…”

Wheeljack snorted, “Like slag, we’ll let you go alone.”

- - -

The moon hung high in the night sky, illuminating the forest Starscream had unceremoniously crash landed in. The wounded seeker sat in a pool of his own energon, propped up against a boulder for support. Energon leaked from a deep gash on his left limb and his intakes were irregular and painful.

Days of planning for a fuel infiltration had amounted to nothing but a strange exchange with “Orion Pax” and a useless leg. Starscream watched in distress as what precious little energon he had left continued to leak from his gaping wound. His old troops had landed a lucky shot, and he was paying dearly for his own miscalculations. He should have run as soon as Optimus had denied his offer. Perhaps then he would have made it with some energon and a functioning limb.

In reality, Starscream knew he was lucky to have made it out alive. Had Megatron gotten a hold of him, he would be in a much worse condition and trapped. At least he still had a chance to fight for his life out here, in the wilderness and appealing to the Autobots’ goodwill.

As if on cue, a ground bridge cracked a few strides away from where Starscream lay, the green and blue hues brightening the forest until it crackled closed when three figures had walked through. Relief turned to annoyance when Starscream identified Bulkhead and Wheeljack escorting the Autobot Medic.

“I told you to come alone!” Starscream squawked as the three Autobots approached him.

“Since when do we listen to you?” Bulkhead retorted, readying his wrecking servo.

“Where is Optimus?” Ratchet demanded.

“Patch me up and perhaps I’ll tell you,” the seeker retorted.

Instead of proceeding with a medical assessment the Autobots exchanged looks, their expressions appeared unconvinced.

“Argh,” Starscream whined, “Have sympathy, I’m leaking here!”

“Then I suggest you speak quickly,” Ratchet sneered, losing patience. “Has Optimus been harmed in any way?”

“He’s fine. Fine! Can’t you see I’m the one who’s been harmed?” Starscream pleaded with uncharacteristic honesty.

“Where is he!?” Bulkhead yelled, his voice sharp with impatience.

“Where do you think!?” Starscream bellowed back, “He’s on Megatron’s warship!”

“Which is located where?” Ratchet demanded with a raised voice.

Starscream responded with a scoff that bordered laughter as if the situation was becoming too ridiculous to take seriously. “Now? Who knows. It’s a ship, it moves. It took me months to track, only to get fired upon.”

Ratchet clenched his fists in anger, “You wouldn't go to the trouble of calling me here unless you had information to trade. Real information.”

“Ughn,” Starscream ex-vented in defeat, “Very well. Your beloved leader may have lost his senses. He goes by the name Orion Pax now, and it seems Megatron has led him to believe he is a Decepticon.”

“Huh, tell us something we don’t know,” Bulkhead scoffed.

“That’s not all!” Starscream interjected hastily, “He is doing research for Megatron. Some kind of important project involving unraveling secret codes, before he no doubt terminates him.”

The Autot’s optics widened with curiosity and alarm. Ratchet took a dubious step closer, “You are certain of this?”

Finally, a bite, Starscream cried to himself in relief. “Yes, I saw the project with my own optics. It made no sense to me, but it was dense and lengthy. If he doesn’t make himself useful to Megatron afterwards he will no doubt be taken care of.”

The Autobots shot each other with panicked looks while Starscream could only slump in relief.

“Ah… it hurts most right here,” he gestured lazily to his obviously ruptured limb.

“One last thing,” Wheeljack added, to Starscream’s annoyance, “Megatron’s space bridge. Where is it?”

Starscream rolled his optics, “What use is an unfinished space bridge to you? They can’t finish building that without my supervision. They could try, but I doubt they could finish without external assistance.”

“So you know where it is?” Ratchet pressed.

“Perhaps I will feel inclined to tell you once my life’s essence isn’t leaking at an alarming rate?” Starscream countered.

The medic could only sigh in defeat and share one last look with the others before bending down and getting to work on Starscream’s wounds.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was progress. It was more than Ratchet would admit he was thankful for.

- - -

Megatron once again found himself waiting for the lull of recharge to overtake him as he stared at the same spot on his hab-suite ceiling. Orion Pax was once again the object of his thoughts as he reviewed today’s unsavory events.

To his frustration, Starscream had returned. Instead of making his merry way with fresh energon in tow, he just happened to stumble into Orion’s workstation. Megatron was still waiting to receive a transcript of what exactly Starscream had said to Orion, but based on the exchange they had shared just after the incident, he knew it was concerning.

Megatron scowled at the ceiling. After all of his efforts to ensure Orion had been presented the most agreeable version of the truth, Starscream made himself known and threw all of his hard work into question. They had made some valuable progress, and Orion had been surpassing all of his expectations, only for it to come to a screeching halt.

“I made a mistake not terminating Starscream when I had the opportunity,” the silver mech recalled bitterly to himself, “A mistake I do not intend to make again.”

The Decepticon leader could feel his lines begin to boil once again with rage. He imagined Starscream’s devious smile as he realized the reality of Orion’s helpless situation. The treacherous seeker would have no doubt twisted together a most upsetting tale and watched expectantly as Orion’s distress began to build. It was fortunate that one of the Vehicon captains had intervened when he had, a moment longer and who knows what else Starscream would have done.

I would relish terminating him for all of his past transgressions and present complications! What a relief it would be to finally be rid of such an inconvenience. However, hunting Starscream down was not a possibility at the moment.

With troop numbers dramatically in decline due to Autobot interference, Megatron would not waste Eradicons on a scouting mission to locate Starscream. He could send Airachnid to locate Starscream, however logic prevented him from doing so. Airachnid was crafty and ambitious, which placed her too close to Starscream’s nature to risk the two mecha collaborating in any way.

The Decepticons needed to focus on recouping their numbers, finishing project Iacon, and waiting for the Autobots to make another foolhardy attempt to get in touch with their precious leader. When that moment arises, Megatron would be present for the occasion. The warlord planned to strike the Autobots down personally and bring an unceremonious end to this age long war.

But it won’t be over until Orion comes to trust me unconditionally, as he once did.

A realization struck Megatron with a sudden sense of franticness. He was running out of time. Who knew what other verbal claims and twisted tales Orion would be subjected to while he stood at his side? In order to ensure this victory, he needed Orion to stand with him so firmly that threats and whispers of deceit didn’t deter his loyalty.

He needed to do as Orion asked and make strides to renew their friendship, which required him to re-experience those old memories once again. The thought made him frown deeper.

This needs to work, the warlord lamented as he closed his flaring red optics. He gathered what pride he had left and navigated towards the old archived memories once again. Megatron ignored the previously viewed memory and lingered over a later section of memories. Picking a section at random was a poor decision, instead Megatron chose his next opponent carefully.

Megatron galvanized over an era of combat before pivoting to an earlier time frame. He deftly passed over any and all events related to the infamous High Council hearing, and concentrated on a specific event in Kaon. After a bit more sifting, Megatron had found what he was looking for. The event began to take shape in his processor after the memory was cautiously selected.

Location: City of Kaon, Rebellion HQ- Black Pyramid
Date: 0798.50.2010 Age: Rust
Context: Orion’s First Visit.
Room occupants: Orion Pax, Barricade, Shockwave, Soundwave.

“By the Allspark,” a much younger Orion swore as a video feed displayed a series of ongoing explosions erupted from a once beautiful chasm.

Shockwave had hailed Megatronus, Orion, and Soundwave to a communications room after hearing of an ongoing terrorist attack taking place in the northern section of Cybertron’s Sonic Canyons.

Megatronus and Orion watched as reports of bombings flooding the Grid network and the canyon’s beautiful surfaces shattered into a grotesque spectacle of collapsing minerals and ore. This had been the second major bombing Cybertron had seen in the past deca-cyle, and despite Megatronus’ earnest attempts to distance himself from the rogue operatives, it did little to redeem him in the eyes of the elites. There was an undeniable correlation between Megatronus’ speeches, the civil unrest, and the recent anti-caste message behind these bombings.

Soon enough, the Grid became ablaze with reactions from the mid to high caste citizens with access to the network. The tone of their declarations and remarks were harsh, and all of them were of the same attitude.

‘This is absolutely unacceptable. Is anywhere safe from these brutes?

‘Megatronus IS behind this, when will we start taking these threats seriously!?”

‘Surely the Council will do something once and for all.’

‘He should be arrested! Who knows where he plans to attack next.’

‘Cybertron would be better off with him DEAD!’

‘Prevention is just as important as the response. The scum should be put in its proper place.’

‘Primus should strike him where he stands!’

‘The gladiator is not a politician, he is a murderer.”

As the threats continued to populate the monitors, Megatronus -past and present- felt a dull resentment harden within him. He knew the high caste would not want anything to do with him, but a part of him had held onto a small hope that some open-minded mecha might have considered his position. The possibility, however, seemed impossible now.

He intended to turn to Orion and express his regret when said mech suddenly rushed towards the communications console and began frantically inputting a priority code Megatronus did not recognize. Soundwave stiffened next to him while Shockwave took an urgent step forward. Reflexively, the silver mech put a servo in front of the scientist just as Orion opened a videlink.

“This is Orion Pax. I am a data clerk in the Iacon Hall of Records working under Alpha Trion himself,” Orion proclaimed sternly into the videolink. “And I am here to testify that Megatronus is not responsible for what is happening.”

Megatronus could not keep himself from blinking in surprise while the Grid exploded with responses. Shockwave appeared similarly taken aback, and Soundwave sent him a silent comms message.

.:Console privileges have not been extended to Orion Pax. Force Orion to cease immediately:.

“What does this mech think he’s doing?” Barricade hissed from behind Megatronus.

Megatronus ignored both of his officer’s and continued to watch the back of Orion’s frame. His silhouette was outlined by the light of the monitors, and he flinched reading the incoming feedback.

‘Another delusional anarchist!’

‘He should be punished along with Megatronus.’

‘A mid-cast supporter? He must have processor damage.’

‘Report him as a conspirator to the Council- we have his identification and guild.’

‘Shame on you!’

With that, it was done. Orion had not merely attested to Megatronus’ innocence, he had unknowingly thrown aside his humble status as a nameless data clerk. By allying himself publicly with Megatronus he would be held in contempt as a co-leader of this new movement. Not even Soundwave or Shockwave had made any public statements or appearances, as it was universally agreed upon that Megatronus would stand as their cause’s sole figurehead.

Now, however, there were two.

“No,” Orion tried to assert a second time, “I have known Megatronus, he did not do this! Neither did I. All of you must listen. You must understand.”

No, Orion, Megatronus answered Orion internally. They do not care to understand, so they never will. As long as they are comfortable, they will never desire to understand us.

Orion’s finials lowered ever so slightly as more feedback flooded public channels. He ex-vented in defeat, and closed the videolink.

Soundwave wasted no time inserting himself in between the console and Orion Pax the moment the videofeed was shut down, and immediately began running a system diagnostic.

Orion’s stare lowered to the floor as he faced Megatronus and the remaining two officers. Megatronus noticed Orion study Soundwave and Barricade before raising his gaze to meet his own. Vigor returned to his blue optics and as he addressed him.

“I must speak to you in private,” the data clerk said sternly.

Megatronus felt the sting of three optics sink into him as he nodded and accompanied Orion out of the communications room. Both mechs waited for the door to shut before speaking in the hallway.

“Brother, I must return to Iacon,” Orion stated.

“Do not leave angry,” Megatronus insisted as he clasped Orion’s shoulder, “One could argue what has transpired is the will of Primus. We are the vessels of our creator’s will, are we not?”

Orion shook his helm slowly, “We have our own will. The code of Primus is merely a guide for actions we should and should not take.”

Megatronus took a moment to look directly into Orion’s brilliant blue optics, appreciating their enchanting glow in person. Even without the usual twinkle of curiosity, Orion’s optics were far more charming than any he had encountered in Kaon. He considered his next words carefully, wishing for the familiar sparkle of wit to return to Orion’s gaze.

“We are friends,” the silver mech settled on. “We will do great things together. But we must also grasp that once we set events into motion, they will not always unfold according to our plans. That is the nature of free will, is it not?”

“... it is,” Orion finally conceded, “You have an orator’s gift, Megatronus.”

The silver gladiator could only smile in response, satisfied to feel Orion’s field loosen.

By this point in the conversation, Orion and Megatronus had arrived at the compound’s exit. Megatronus escorted Orion past the guarded exit and outside to the Kaon’s unkempt streets.

“I can always have someone escort you until the city perimeter,” Megatronus offered.

“No, thank you. I can manage, I really must get back.”

“I understand. I bid you safe travels. Send me a simple message confirming your safe return to Iacon when you have a spare click,” Megatronus attempted to say as dispassionately as possible.

Orion dampened his smile, “I will,” he agreed and briskly transformed into his alt-mode and sped away.

“Brother,” Megatronus whispered to himself as he watched Orion’s red plating disappear from view, “you must know that I did not wish this. The world looks so much different from the bottom of the pits than it does from the desks in the Hall of Records.”

From behind him, he could feel the presence of two mechs staring at him.

“Query: Should Orion Pax be followed?”

Megatron shut the feed down with force and exited all his memory prompts. He would not wait for shame to besiege him and made his way out of his hab-suite in a steadfast manner. Anywhere was better than being alone with his own unfavorable thoughts and those painfully bittersweet echoes of the past.

- - -

It was a quiet walk as Megatron meandered towards the warship’s bridge. As expected, only the maintenance crew and nightly patrols were actively making their rounds as their leader prowled the corridors. In time, the silver mech arrived at the command deck where he was surprised to find Soundwave observing the ship’s surveillance systems.

Megatron sauntered inside and stood at an adjacent monitor which displayed the ship’s fuel levels and other basic readouts. Finding the information to be uninteresting, Megatron’s gaze turned to Soundwave’s monitor before falling to the half finished energon cube that lay within tentacle distance from Soundwave’s eerily still frame.

Not expecting Soundwave to begin a conversation, Megatron decided to break the silence.

“Soundwave, I regret to see you still working at such a late hour. The events from today are especially troubling-,”

The Decepticon leader was interrupted by Soundwave swiftly selecting certain prompts to summon the daily event report onto the side monitor that Megatron currently stood in front of. The warlord was slightly startled by the motion, and began reading just in case there was some new information Soundwave wanted to bring to his attention. However, the report indicated nothing new. A bit confused, Megatron checked his personal channel to see that Soundwave had already submitted the report not long ago.

Finding his communication officer’s actions to be a bit cold even for his usual nature, he gingerly turned back to Soundwave.

“Yes, thank you for the daily events report. However, I did not come here to inquire about the report’s status. I had expected the command deck to be empty, so I ask, what keeps you from your overdue recharge?”

Soundwave turned his dark visor in Megatron’s direction, lingering there for a few moments, before turning back to the surveillance footage. His motion merely acknowledged Megatron’s question, but did not indicate any kind of answer.

Had it been any other mech giving Megatron the silent treatment, he would have demanded answers and threatened them with severe punishment for undermining a direct question. However, this was Soundwave, whom he respected most above all other Decepticons aboard the Nemesis. Instead of repeating his question, he tried a different angle.

“It’s as you previously mentioned, Starscream chose a most opportune moment to strike. Slinking through the halls as you underwent brief cycles of recharge was his only hope of success. We would do well to change some of the schedules so as to avoid such breeches in the future, especially now with our new ally,” the silver warlord finished.

Megatron thought he felt a faint wave of dull resentment escape Soundwave’s measured field, but he did not see any physical change in Soundwave’s current body language. He continued to observe Soundwave as he silently studied the main monitor, only moving a tentacle into the energon cube to resume draining the rest of the cube’s contents.

He must be exceedingly spent after being rudely awoken from recharge, Megatron realized in a delayed manner. Under the window displaying surveillance, Megatron could make out the edges of the Space Bridge plans opened underneath in a different window.

“If you would like, we can delegate some of your extraneous tasks to others. Orion is an especially fast learner, and could no doubt provide you some well earned relief,” he offered in a matter-of-fact tone.

At this suggestion, Soundwave’s helm slowly turned to face Megatron. The movement was followed stiffly by the rest of his frame until his entire self was oriented in the same manner. Megatron couldn’t help but minutely stagger backwards as Soundwave activated his visor.

Instead of a video recording, Megatron was met with an audio clip of Orion’s strained voice.

“None of this is right. Destined to die? You deserve to live, just like any other Cybertronian forged from the Well-l.”

“Well-,” a troop’s voice cut off as Orion continued.

“And your original designations sound like serial numbers, yet your nicknames do not appear to be universally respected. I don’t like the implications… Your serial numbers feel reminiscent of the designations of industry workers from before the Great War. They were the disposable working class that had no names. Megatron had-d-d-”

…

“Pardon me. I must return to my workstation, immediately. Enjoy the rest of your break, I’m sure we will see each other again. Soon-n.”

Soundwave cut the recording and stood in silence and waited for Megatron to process the recording. Megatron could only cycle his red optics in perplexity as realization dawned on him, many emotions flashed through him at once. The communications officer noted how his leader’s brows creased and the corner of his frown twitched

“When did this conversation occur?” the silver leader inquired with a grounded jaw. Soundwave was evidently in a very bad mood, and the mention of Orion was perhaps the tipping point.

Soundwave promptly displayed a timestamp as if he had anticipated the question, it had taken place yesterday around midday.

Megatron snarled and looked down at his side, not bothering to stall the vexation that pulsed though his lines. The cracks in the carefully crafted facade had already begun to show before Starscream had even made his grand return.

The silver warlord began to pace, his processor jumping from one conclusion to another without stopping to ask his disgruntled officer for his input.

Orion’s questions will only get more specific and serious from here onward. His tone sounded more concerned than suspicious… and he did not bring up the subject with me directly after Starscream’s departure. Therefore, there is still time to put his suspicions to rest with an intervention of sorts. But what to say?

Megatron slowed his pacing to a halt when he noticed Soundwave was still expectantly watching him, rather than continuing to monitor the surveillance. Rather annoyed, Megatron decided to interrupt his thoughts to answer Soundwave's silent query.

“And what do you suggest I do about this situation?”

The slim mech slowly lowered his blank visor as if indicating his gaze had shifted to Megatron’s servo. For needless clarity, Soundwave raises one of his own delicate digits to point at the silver mech’s cannon mounted servo.

“And ruin all of the progress we have made?” Megatron demanded harshly, “There is no need to resort to such measures, yet. Orion can still be of use, especially to you if you would simply ask for assistance.”

At this, Soundwave somewhat flinched before regaining his composure and mechanically turning back to the main monitor.

“You can deny it all you wish, Soundwave, but you know your stubbornness will get you nowhere,” Megatron began marching towards the exit before stopping to add in a slightly calmer manner, “Just consider the assistance. It’s available if you ever decide to accept it.”

Not expecting an answer, the silver mech left Soundwave to his own solitude. Once the doors slid shut, he heard a faint lock click into place. He rolled his optics at the dramatic gesture and decided he would pass time elsewhere.

- - -

With the coordinates provided by Starscream, the Autobots successfully set a ground bridge within one of the tunnels connecting to the Decepticon space bridge. To their relief, the intel Starscream provided had been correct. There was no sight of Decepticon troops or miners as far as their sensors could indicate in this section of the tunnels.

“Clear,” Bulkhead announced.

“Clear,” Arcee echoed back as she scanned their rear.

Without missing a beat, the party of five Autobots plunged deeper inside the mine, moving as quietly as possible. Ratchet scrambled communications as they moved, and the group slowed to a halt as the first chasm appeared before them. The dark room’s occupants consisted of three Vehicon security troops and one unmanned mining drill.

Arcee and Bumblebee moved in first, followed a few clicks later by Wheeljack and Bulkhead. The first two bots hid amongst the shadows cast by the large drilling machinery, expertly avoiding the Vehicon’s line of sight. Once the Vehicons’ backs were turned, Arcee leapt from behind the drill and knocked the first trooper unconscious with a nasty kick and punch. The second Vehicon readied his weapon just before Bumblebee smashed him against the oversized drill using his entire weight.

The final Vehicon stumbled over his comms and attempted to connect with the warship as he retreated, “Command! This is space bridge control, we are under attack!”

Ratchet and Wheeljack smirked at the Vehicon paused in confusion, “Command, do you re- aagh!”

Bulkhead interrupted the Vehicon with a vicious strike of his mace. The MTO’s body fell to the ground with a loud metal crash and Wheeljack jokingly held a digit up to his faceplate as if suggesting the unconscious Vehicon ought to remain quiet.

The band of Autobots continued their journey deeper within the energon mine, taking the maintenance elevator down to the lowest level and deftly removing security Vehicons as they went. In less time than they anticipated, they made it to the deepest cavern that housed the space bridge.

“By the All spark,” Ratchet whispered, as he studied the Decepticon’s handiwork from behind a large boulder.

It was a magnificently large space bridge expertly built to make use of every inch the cavern walls could afford them. The size was nearly three times as big as the ground bridge the Autobots utilized back at base, and to their benefit, it appeared to be nearly complete.

“Thank you, Starscream,” Arcee whispered loud enough for Bulkhead to shift in surprise behind her.

“Who else would it be?” She shrugged at Bulkhead’s silent question before racing ahead to engage the remaining Vehicon guards.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack shared a playful look just before they overtook the final Vehicon, striking one after another until the guard collapsed with clang.

With the last of the Vehicons terminated, Ratchet walked with purpose onto the space bridge and approached the main control panels.

“A masterpiece of engineering,” the medic praised in awe.

“Operational?” Arcee inquired hopefully.

Ratchet touched a few key prompts on the control screen, which to his delight, responded appropriately.

“Fully. As far as I can tell.”

“Perimeter secured,” Bulkhead announced from the back of the group.

“Locking onto Cybertron,” Ratchet reported in response as his digits danced across the control panel. His spark pulsed with stress and his digits fidgeted from time to time. Stay focused. This has to work.

Arcee turned to face Wheeljack who had taken up a spot next to her, “You ready?”

“Let’s do this,” Wheeljack gruffed with a smirk, holding up the newly masked key card.

“I’ll leave the space bridge portal open in order to eliminate any communication lag over the great distance. And make it easier for you to locate when you are ready to return,” Ratchet explained.

“Now to play hide and seek with the Big V,” Wheeljack quipped as Ratchet selected the final prompts to open the Decepticon space bridge.

Ratchet finished the sequence by tapping a specific section of Cybertron’s surface and a loud cracking sound erupted from the center of the large gear shaped entrance to the space bridge. Teal light exploded from the center and swirled in a clockwise motion as the air fizzled with static. Waves of energy rumbled against the Autobots’ plating as the space bridge remained online.

Wheeljack and Arcee shared one last determined look, their blue optics ablaze with resolve as they confidently stepped forward.

“For Optimus,” Arcee declared, “We’ll find Vector Sigma, no matter what.”

The two bots picked up their pace to a jog as they crossed the runway and disappeared within the space bridge portal. They burst through to the other side, where they were greeted with the dark and dying infrastructure of Cybertron, their lines pulsing intensely.

They walked a few strides further, taking in all of the destroyed buildings and upturned sections of street left deserted in the wake of combat. The wind whistled woefully, barely noticeable as the two bots scanned their surroundings.

“It sure isn’t the homecoming I pictured,” Wheeljack lamented.

“In the fog of war, it was hard to see beyond the next leg of the mission. Or the next punch in the fight,” Arcee responded thoughtfully, “It’s still hard for me to admit, but even after the fog finally lifted, there wasn’t much left to save.”

“Too true,” Wheeljack murmured in agreement.

“Arcee, Wheeljack, do you copy?” Ratchets’ voice echoed with in static through their comms.

“Roger that,” The Wrecker responded, “We are definitely on Cybertron.”

“Just keep the sight seeing to a minimum,” Bulkhead joked over the comms.

“Indeed,” Ratchet concurred, “We don’t know if your journey ahead is five clicks or five thousand.”

“Understood, we’re out,” the smaller blue bot ended the communications swiftly and fixed her gaze on the key card in Wheeljack’s digits. “Is it supposed to do that?”

Wheeljack lifted the key card up to his optics and noticed a soft blue light emanating from the key card. He curiously guided the key card to face all of his cardinal directions and stopped when the key card pulsed brightly while facing south.

“I’m thinking it wants to lead us in the right direction,” Wheeljack huffed just before he transformed into his alt mode. Arcee followed suit, and the two speeded down the old roads towards Cybertron’s southernmost quadrant.

- - -

With a newly acquired stool, Orion sat drowning in the glow of his work space monitors and scribbled down the occasional question or thought onto his tablet. The humble stool was provided by Gage, who claimed it was rarely ever taken from the maintenance supply room. Unfortunately, the stool was made for a much smaller bot, so Orion’s legs extended awkwardly close to the work station floor. It was not the most ideal sitting position, but his joints appreciated the relief.

Orion’s empty optics passively scanned two lines of code that he had extracted separately from the main set. His digits occasionally spasmed due to the repeated movement of typing. The ex-archivist was certain that there was something to be gleaned from these entries, yet none of his attempts to decipher them had succeeded.

As if exhausting the last of his patience, Orion leaned his servos on the keyboard and rubbed the sides of his face plate. He glanced to the smaller side monitor that indicated the current hour, and noted that the maintenance crew would surely be in to usher him out in a little less than one cycle. A sigh escaped him as he rested his optics for a moment.

“Why do you evade my reach?” Orion asked out loud to no one but his empty workstation.

He unconsciously reviewed his memory cache from the last thirty cycles. What an exhausting solar cycle, with so little progress made.

Whoever had encrypted these codes was extremely thorough. All of the usual methods he had learned as an archivist had only helped him narrow down his options, but not finish the job. In an attempt to remain productive, Orion found the notes and documents relating to the space bridge project and had begun familiarizing himself with the system's details for a change of pace. Shockwave’s notes were displayed on a smaller screen to his right, and he noticed that Shockwave used such an extreme amount of shorthanded terms that his notes may as well have been encrypted to the untrained eye.

Orion supposed that it was only logical to be as efficient as possible when working with such complex systems. He recalled that Alpha Trion also had his own system of shorthand terms that he also employed on personal documents and reports of great importance. Most archivists in the Hall of Records were at least somewhat aware of the head Archivist’s lexicon of strange patterns and eliminations for shorthand.

The ex-archivist suddenly sat up straight. His digits fidgeted as he took the two lines of isolated code and began eliminating characters that often served as connecting segments, which was the first step in Alpha Trion’s shorthand process. Steadily, Orion rearranged the remaining character in order of a priority system used in the archives and stared at what remained.

His optics narrowed, “Quantities? But there are no units to be found...”

The remaining characters displayed two obscenely large numerical values that were inconsequential at a glance. To make the values appear more attractive to the optics, Orion spaced out the characters in sets of four. He cycled his optics twice, before a realization flashed across his optics and his servos dropped to his lap. His spark pulse began to pound as he began to copy the code from the monitor to his tablet and opened his comms without a second thought.

.:Megatron, are you busy?
Are you in your quarters, by chance?
I have an update:.

After sending the last message, Orion hurriedly checked that the newly filtered codes had been properly copied to his tablet and shut down his work station. He shuddered when he received a response notification so soon.

.:Is something the matter?
I returned to my quarters moments ago.
Are you still at your workstation?:.

An elated smile spread across his faceplate as he set the tablet within his subspace and darted out of his station and down the halls.

.:All is well, please stay where you are:.

His excitement grew with every moment and it took an immense amount of self control to not explain his discovery over comms. However, the prospect of seeing Megatron’s reaction was too appealing to pass on.

Orion ascended to the higher level and encountered no patrols as he urgently breezed towards the hab-suite block. He slowed down as he turned the final corner and made his way directly to hab-suite AQ012. To his delight, the door had been unlocked and automatically parted for him. Megatron stood with his back to the entrance as if contemplating something.

“Megatron, Pardon my intrusion,” Orion burst into the room, nearly vibrating with excitement, “I’ve managed to decode two entries. They were logged by Autobot Archivists during the War, look.”

The ex-archivist eagerly brought out his gifted tablet and presented the two highlighted codes on screen. Megatron narrowed his optics as if trying to identify their purpose. Too impatient to wait, Orion blurted out, “They appear to be coordinates. I surmise that they could indicate hiding places for vessels shuttled from Cybertron for safe keeping.”

Just as Orion had concluded, these two lines of code registered to Megtron as coordinates that referred to Earth’s quadrants.

"Coordinates that target locations on this very planet. Well done, Orion! You ought to give your archival skills more credit,” Megatron smiled proudly and put an affectionate servo on Orion's lower shoulder.

“These coordinates will no doubt prove useful. Do you have any indication of what these vessels contain?" the silver leader continued to beam.

“Since they were encrypted by archivists, it is possible they could contain cultural artifacts or historical documents. However, I cannot dismiss the likelihood that they could also be weapons of great importance that were hidden away for later use,” Orion concluded with unusual speed.

“All the more reason it is essential that we do everything in our power to keep said vessels from Autobot reach,” Megatron meaningfully stared into his friend’s optics, “we are fortunate to have you on our side, Orion.”

Orion, however, was a bit distracted by Megatron’s earnest approval. His bashful smile turned into an embolden one as it spread across his face plate. The edges of his optics pulled upwards as his lenses twinkled with a mixture of delight and relief. He had no doubt improved Megatron’s night, and got them all one step closer to returning to Cybertron.

Orion’s elation was radiating off his frame so fiercely, Megatron could not help but notice. The warlord observed his friend’s expression and found himself lost in thought. Orion looked so exuberant, it warmed his spark in ways he could not describe. Was his approval truly so deserving of such a reaction? It was a small moment, but it felt monumental when he recalled that he had never seen Optimus Prime so enthusiastic in his entire life. It was a rare sight even for Orion before the war.

I wish to see you content, always.

Yet, a gloomy thought passed through Megatron’s processor. Orion didn’t have much of a reason to be content. None of his old comrades were aboard the Nemesis and Cybertron’s barren state had caused him much alarm. It was apparent that he did not have much to look forward to. The thought caused Megatron’s gaze to drift beyond Orion, and unknowingly loosen his grip.

“Um, Megatron..? Is something wrong?”

Orion’s voice took Megatron off guard as he shoved aside the notion, realizing time had continued to pass while he pondered. His friend's expression had morphed into one of concerned confusion.

“Ah, as I was saying,” Megatron reset his vocalizer, “Your skills are to be admired. As expected, given your time in Iacon.”

The Decepticon leader awkwardly removed his servo from Orion and pretended to look elsewhere as if deep in thought.

“You seem suddenly distracted. Is something the matter? Perhaps you are in need of a refuel?” Orion asked.

Megatron considered a variety of responses that bordered lies. However, he chose to settle on a version of the truth, “I am fine. I simply realized it is an unusual sight to see you so untroubled. It’s a new experience, as you can imagine, but not unwelcome."

Orion’s field fell as he thoughtfully lowered his gaze, and Megatron’s mind began to reel in response. Perhaps he could have been more specific? He assumed Orion was beginning to reflect on his past as Optimus Prime and would shamefully apologize before choosing to depart, to which Megatron would have no one to blame but himself for ruining the moment.

Instead, Orion raised his gaze and put his own reassuring servo just below Megatron’s shoulder. The touch nearly made Megatron jump and his optics widened.

“Perhaps, now there are reasons to afford a smile,” Orion explained with a nervous grin of his own.

The two mech merely stared at one another. Megatron was speechless as Orion’s gentle demeanor captivated him entirely. Orion’s words alluded to an appreciation for Megatron that he had not grasped, despite Orion’s earlier suspicion of his intentions. He had a sudden urge to assure Orion that he would do whatever it takes to ensure his well-being and contentment- that his smile was a gift he deeply treasured. Despite everything they had endured, he still held him in the highest regard. Emotions so powerful and so deeply repressed threatened to break free of Megatron’s control.

No. Stop that.

A new sensation crept into Megatron’s frame, poisoning the admiration in his spark and morphing it into a feeling of fright. His optimism was replaced with apprehension and his optics darkened.

Not again. Never.

Orion’s warm expression began to blur in his vision. Megaton blinked, and his hab-suite was replaced with an extravagant chamber with tall windows. The room was shaped like an idealized spark, and morning light outlined a curved row of podiums. A sense of peril froze Megatron in place.

The silver mech forced himself to look back down at Orion, who’s optics were replaced with chilling ice shards. This was not his archivist, but a deceptive envoy that stood before him with a knowing smirk. Static began to build in his audials as if he were attempting to block out the roar of distant applause.

I can’t make the same mistake twice.

Wishing the terrors away, Megatron closed his optics, reset his basic system senses, and slowly onlined his optics. Relief washed over him as his quarters returned and Orion’s concerned expression greeted him back to reality.

“Megatron, what-,”

“O-of course,” Megatron stammered, “Excellent work Orion, as usual."

The warlord awkwardly disengaged from Orion’s grasp and started walking briskly towards the exit of his hab-suite, “I realize I have business to conclude elsewhere, do let us know if you decode anything else.”

And with that, the Decepticon leader strode out of his hab-suite, down the hall, and turned the nearest corner to escape Orion’s view. Megatron walked in any direction opposite to his quarters with a servo on his temple, cursing under his breath. Delayed embarrassment set in as he realized how his departure might look from Orion’s view

“To be so empty-helmed!” the Decepticon leader muttered to himself, not bothering to lighten his stamping pedefalls. Unease consumed him yet again, but he would not go back to explain himself. His spark shuttered in his chest almost mockingly.

Orion stood in Megatron’s empty quarters as the automatic door closed, his finials twitched in unison with his cycling optics.

“Wait…” Was all he could say before nervously looking around the empty hab-suite, realizing he had been left alone. A chill overcame him when he realized how suspicious it would look the longer he remained in the Decepticon leader's private quarters and urgently made for the exit. He was relieved to see no one was passing by to witness him leaving, or see his disoriented state.

- - -

“Are you sure it’s this way?” Arcee called over the sounds of their engines, “Towards Kaon?”

“That’s what it looks like. Don’t ask me why the big O’s key card is leading us to the Decepticon capital. Rumors had it that Vector Sigma was hidden in the Sonic Canyons,” The wrecker recalled.

As the two entered the remains of the once operational city of Kaon, the ground became increasingly tumultuous. They avoid holes and crevasses with some difficulty before eventually transforming out of their vehicle modes.

“Best to travel on foot anyways. Don’t want engine noise to attract the wrong kind of attention,” Arcee suggested while activating her internal weaponry.

Wheeljack followed her lead, with the key card in his left servo. “Let’s hope there aren’t any vermin left.”

The two briskly walked with care, the light of the key card lighting their path ahead. They traveled further and further into the depths of Kaon, not finding any signs of life.

“We must be getting close,” Wheeljack observed as the light of the card key shone exceptionally bright.

The two passed under an exceptionally large gate, with an enormous statue of Megatron somehow fitted atop it. The craftsmanship to capture the Decepticon leader’s likeness would have been admirable in any other circumstance- however it just felt eerie to observe in Kaon’s desolate state.

Once passed the gate, the two Autobots found themselves in the center of what looked to have once been a city square. Arcee gazed around in confusion, half expecting a trap of some sort.

Suddenly, a tremor shook the foundations below them as large cracks gave way to the ground in front of them. Sections of Kaon’s city floor splintered as a structure erupted from the ground below. The thick layers of city streets fell aside as the hexagonal structure arose to its full height.

The two Autobots approached hesitantly. Just as the card key reached close proximity to the construct, a blue light traced the pattern on the structure’s exterior and panels moved with a hiss. The panels parted revealing a corridor-like tunnel that led underground.

“And to think, Vector Sigma lay just beneath Megatron’s pedes this entire time,” Arcee remarked.

Wheeljack smiled victoriously, “Lucky for us, he isn’t here to find out.”

The two Autobots took a few tentative steps inside, when nothing collapsed or opened fire on them, they proceeded inside with more confidence.

“How deep do you think this goes?” Wheeljack pondered out loud, optics still glued to the glowing key card.

“Based on the old dirt smell? Probably farther than we would like,” The shorter blue bot remarked.

All at once, the sound of crashing and falling ruble near the entrance caused both bots to pivot with alarm. The small bit of light that shined in from the night sky was obscured by a cloud of debris. Wheeljack slowly attached the card key to his belt just in case he needed to ready his internal weaponry.

The dust began to settle ever so slightly, and just before Arcee could relax her shoulders, a piercing red light cut through the darkness.

“Pests?” Wheeljack whispered as finished transforming one of his servos.

“Most likely,” was all Arcee could answer as the newcomer thumped closer.

Every step caused the ground to shake minutely, resulting in bits of debris to fall from the cavern ceiling. The newcomer’s pedefalls were dreadfully unrushed, and their long shadow indicated their staggering size.

Despite all their years of combat experience, both bots felt a primal unease building inside of them the longer it took to identify this new arrival. After a few concerning clicks the dust finally settled around the monstrous frame and Arcee felt her joints freeze.

Broad shoulders, spiked finials, an asymmetrical silhouette, and one bulbous red optic locked onto her.

Her intake caught, but Wheeljack managed to choke out the very name that seized hold on her entire processor.

“Shockwave!?”

Chapter Text

“I thought you and Cliffjumper had scrapped him!” Wheeljack snarled as he readied his cannon arm.

“The whole place was coming down and we were in a rush to escape with our lives!” Arcee retorted, aiming both of her blasters at Shockwave.

Shockwave stood motionless at least fifteen paces away, his silhouette a black void against the light from outside the tunnel. His single unblinking optic looked more akin to a warning light than any standard optic lens.

“What are you doing here?” Arcee demanded.

Wheeljack saw Shockwave’s helm twitch curiously in the two-wheeler’s direction before finally answering.

“I would inquire the same of you. It would appear you two are responsible for the commotion outside of my laboratory,” Shockwave’s voice boomed throughout the tunnel in its signature toneless manner.

Wheeljack sneered, “Just our luck.”

Feeling Shockwave’s single optic studying himself and Arcee’s frame, the wrecker slowly shifted his hips to hide the pulsating glow of the key that hung from his belt.

“I am perplexed to see you operating with a new partner,” Shockwave commented with his gaze fixed on Arcee.

Wheeljack watched Arcee quiver with rage beside him as she took a daring step forward, “What do you care?”

The Decepticon scientist took another long moment before answering, “Such an emotional reaction. One can only assume Cliffjumper has parted-,”

“Shut up!” Arcee hollered.

Feeling tensions rise, Wheeljack felt compelled to intervene. “How about you leave us alone, and we let you return un-scathed to attend to your precious experiments? Pretty good deal, if you ask me.”

Shockwave took two leisurely steps forward and ignored Wheeljack’s suggestion. “You two have no reason to be here unless there was something of value. I would know, I have scoured this area for resources,” the Decepticon reasoned.

“How about you go back to where you came from, or I’ll blast out your optic just like last time,” Arcee hissed.

“I have since learned from my previous miscalculations,” the larger purple mech’s cannon arm began to glow faintly, “Such tactics will not work a second time. Especially without the aid of your blathering comrade.”

Wheeljack felt something snap in Arcee’s field as she snarled and leapt towards the Decepticon, “I’ll snuff your spark myself!”

“Arcee?” Wheeljack reached for her unsuccessfully, catching only air as her frame left his reach.

“You go!” the blue bot yelled, not slowing her pace, “He’s mine.”

Wheeljack hesitated as Arcee bounded towards Shockwave, sending him a flurry of blasts. In response Shockwave stood his ground and began shooting from his oversized cannon. The wrecker helplessly watched the two mecha exchange shots, growled under his breath, and finally turned to sprint deeper into the tunnel.

She can do this, and I won’t be long.

The wrecker transformed and sped down the tunnel hall as fast as he could manage, pulling up audio comms as soon as his tires gripped proper traction. Once the comms connection crackled to life, Wheeljack didn’t wait for a greeting.

“Doc, it’s not good! You remember that one-eyed Decepticon freak!?”

- - -

With multiple failed attempts to power down and recharge, Orion stalked through the Nemesis’ once busy halls in the direction of the central command deck. His frame ached for recharge, yet a few unanswered questions prevented him from resting properly. Unwilling to potentially wake anyone else, Orion decided to test his luck to see if Soundwave might still be awake and working. Once outside of the command doors with his tablet in servo, the red and blue mech gathered his confidence and approached the entrance. However, when the doors parted it was Soundwave who appeared to be on his way out. Taken aback by Soundwave’s proximity, Orion stood dumbfounded for a moment.

“Soundwave,” Orion greeted as calmly as his vocalizer would allow, “Do you have a moment?”

The communications officer merely stood motionless, as if he were a lifeless statue. Orion could see his own anxious reflection blink back at him on Soundwave’s visor while the dark mech continued to make no move of his own past Orion. Taking this as a hesitant sign to continue, Orion reset his vocalizer to elaborate.

“If you don’t mind, I have something to ask of you. Or, moreso, something to show you,” Orion explained as he turned on his tablet and began pulling up a document.

Orion ignored the unsettling stare of evaluation as he made sure to project the correct document. Soundwave’s helm tilted slightly forward as he recognized the document Orion had selected. The slim mech raised his helm to look at Orion, and then back to the tablet screen before stalking back inside of the command deck and activated the main console.

“Thank you,” Orion hesitantly followed the slim officer’s path inside, “As you are no doubt aware, I have been navigating the database in my spare time and found the documents relating to the construction of the space bridge.”

Orion paused to see if Soundwave disapproved of his direction, however he did not seem to pay him much attention as he projected the same files to the console monitors.

“I found Shockwave’s old notes amongst the files, and with more digging I also stumbled upon your own project notes. Specifically, I noticed your concerns with the instability of the space bridge while in use-”

Soundwave interrupted Orion to summon the notes in question and, in a separate window, project the results of the bridge’s recent diagnostic. The dark mech pointed a delicate digit at a section highlighted in red that displayed dangerously high amounts of excess energy building in the bridge’s core. He then shifted his digit to a lower section to bring attention to the inoperative safety functions.

“Yes,” Orion agreed, “these higher levels of concentrated energy are dangerous, while some unknown factor is disabling the safety protocols. One would naturally conclude that there is an error within the current program. I noticed that your calculation sheet tends to be updated daily with little success.”

“As is understandable,” Orion quickly assured, “while I am no expert on the matter, I believe I may have found something useful to assist with your work.”

The red and blue mech proceeded to project Shockwave’s notes on his tablet, as Soundwave’s field betrayed a tinge of sourness. “Shockwave’s notes employ a great deal of shorthand, as you have noted already. And yet, there are sections of notes that list a series of numerical values with no clear indication of their purpose. However.”

Orion picked up the stylus and began writing directly onto the table screen with lines to separate sets of numbers and extending symbols on Shockwave’s notes.

“If we were to assume these values are also presented in a form of shorthand, like the ones used by academics, we can work backwards to fill in the metaphorical blanks.”

Soundwave studied the tablet screen for four clicks before suddenly shifting back to the main monitor displaying his own calculations, then back to the tablet. Soundwave quickly looked directly at Orion, as if making optic contact, and pointed at the screen as if to say, ‘this is the answer to the problem?’

“Yes,” Orion nodded in relief, “They are formulas for your calculations. Perhaps they even offer the key to ensuring the safety protocols remain online as well.”

Laserbeak jittered faintly as Soundwave cautiously reached for Orion’s tablet. Orion didn’t resist and extended the tablet into Soundwave’s reach, to which the dark mech held the tablet with unexpected delicacy. With his free servo, the communications officer tentatively rearranged his first row of calculations to fit Shockwave’s formula. After a few tense moments filled with the chiming of Soundwave’s inputs, the topmost row of calculations blinked in success. Soundwave stared at the completed calculation in disbelief for a prolonged moment before turning to look at Orion.

“I truly didn’t know if it would work,” he admitted sheepishly, “I’m grateful my hunch was correct.”

Soundwave turned back to the central monitor and began working on the next line of calculations. His movements were quickened as if not wanting to lose any momentum. Orion smiled to himself, before realizing how many more lines of calculations Soundwave would have to finish. Even for one as efficient as Soundwave, the task could take cycles.

“Would you like me to start on the next section?” Orion offered hesitantly.

Soundwave suddenly paused his work at the suggestion as if running internal calculations. Orion thought he saw Laserbeak briefly tap his limbs against the larger mech’s plating, before Soundwave finally relinquished the tablet back with the smallest of nods.

Pride flared within Orion’s chest as he accepted the tablet back into his digits and took up station at the adjacent monitor. Soundwave provided him the next two lines of unfinished calculations while he deftly continued using Shockwave’s formula to reorganize his work.

Breems passed, and Orion noticed that the Decepticon officer was much faster at these calculations than he was. Yet, Orion’s work was accurate despite how slow he worked, which made him at least a helpful assistant. In nearly half a cycle, a quarter of the work had been completed, and Orion found himself assured enough to try and speak to Soundwave once again.

“I have another small inquiry,” Orion spoke just as Soundwave finished checking his current row, “It’s my understanding that you swore a vow of silence before arriving to Earth. I have been curious as to why, and everyone I ask claims not to know.”

Soundwave’s digits stopped moving altogether when Orion had finished his question. Orion studied the slim mech’s field for any indication of his disposition, but found nothing. Even Laserbeak remained eerily still.

“If it is something personal, you may dismiss the question,” Orion added quietly.

Soundwave lowered his stare and shook his helm slowly. Orion’s optics darted from Soundwave’s visor to the mech’s posture hoping to find more clues. The ex-Autobot leader could not tell if the helm shake was to say ‘no’ or ‘I can’t’ in response to his question.

The communications officer silently resumed the next row of calculations before jolting upright. Orion’s attention snapped to Soundwave’s visor as a red notification flashed on all console monitors.

“What is happening?” Orion asked urgently.

Soundwave minimized the current windows to project an alert from the very space bridge they were working on. The notification warned of increasingly dangerous temperatures and energy readouts.

“Why is the bridge in use?” Orion suddenly stopped as he understood, “They couldn’t have….”

By the time Orion had glanced back at Soundwave, the officer had already begun drafting an urgent message to Megatron while his visor displayed the current bridge coordinates.

Orion felt his hopes and newfound convictions crash at his pedes. The red light filled the entire room as if attempting to drown Orion and Soundwave in a dark omen.

- - -

“Are you certain?” Ratchet demanded over the comms.

“You think I would mistake him for an Insecticon!?” Wheeljack shot back, “Yes, it’s him! Arcee is trying to shred him on her own for Cliff’s sake.”

Bumblebee whirred in a despondent manner while Ratchet groaned and shook his helm.

“Of course that slagger would be in Kaon if he was still online,” Bulkhead grumbled.

A piercing series of whoops and brrrs escaped Bumblebee as he stepped forward with a frustrated gesture of servos and cycled his optics with creased brows.

“Hey, she’s the one who told me to leave.”

“And you listened to her?” Ratchet protested.

“You wouldn’t?” the wrecker countered breathlessly, “I’m getting this done for all of our sorry afts.”

With a crunch of layered static, Wheeljack ended the communication. Before Ratchet could scoff, he noticed the space bridge temperatures were steadily rising as a warning light blinked in the corner of the monitor.

Bulkhead couldn’t help but curiously step closer, “That’s supposed to happen, right?”

- - -

“The activity log indicates the space bridge was set for Cybertron, and remains open?” Megatron repeated dispassionately as a multitude of thoughts flashed behind his vermillion optics.

Orion nodded solemnly and Soundwave merely stood unmoving with the information still displayed on his visor.

“Assuming this is the work of Autobots, this operation comes at a great risk. Instead of taking their quarrels directly to us, they instead set course for-”

Megatron paused as a series of urgent steps could be heard approaching the command entrance, revealing the culprit to be Breakdown who burst into the room with a panic-stricken expression.

“There you are, Lord Megatron,” he huffed, his field thick with urgency, “I can’t get through to anyone at space bridge control except the lead officer! Something strange is going on down there.”

“Hm,” Megatron mused thoughtfully, with a sharp digit resting on his chin.

Breakdown joined the three mechs as they stood tensely in a circle watching Megatron contemplate their next move. Each click that passed caused Orion’s paranoia to build until he could not remain silent any longer.

“This is no doubt the work of the Autobots,” Orion insisted, “But what do they want from Cybertron?”

That is the question, Megatron relayed as his red optics lowered further. There were endless possibilities, but none particularly striking to Megatron in the moment, which usually meant the Autobots were privy to something he wasn’t. Whatever their reasoning, it was undoubtedly linked to the possibility of restoring Optimus Prime.

And yet, Megatron stirred with expectation. The Autobots had propelled the silver mech’s plans forward by offering their necks for him to slice with little resistance. Their plans were of no consequence, as they would not live to reap the rewards of their labor. Yes, a single squadron alongside himself would be more than enough to put an end to their bold scheme.

The warlord’s certainty faltered as he recalled the current state of the Decepticon ranks sitting at an all time low. Any troops accompanying him would be terminated by the Autobots, without question. In any other instance, Megatron would not have considered such factors, however Orion would surely mourn the loss of life. Hence, there was only one course of action remaining.

“I will go,” Megatron announced suddenly, “alone.”

The Decepticon leader was met with silence as Orion’s optics momentarily widened before narrowing with a perturbed expression.

“You cannot be serious,” Orion objected.

“Our numbers are not exactly expendable at the moment,” the silver mech cited simply.

“Lord Megatron,” Breakdown interrupted, “you should at least consider taking someone else with you.”

“Yes,” Orion agreed, “I’m sure Breakdown and Soundwave would be able to provide you with ample support to ensure your safety.”

The silver warlord shook his helm, “Soundwave is needed here, especially after our recent security breach.”

Megatron turned his gaze to Breakdown and continued, “Breakdown, you have shouldered three perimeter patrols in the last solar-cycle, and I am well-aware you get slow when you're tired. I’m not taking you with me so that the Autobots can take you to the scrap heap themselves.”

Breakdown winced at the accurate evaluation while Orion looked between the two mechs in dismay, “You cannot afford to go alone, something horrible could happen if you don’t have support.”

“I do not require it,” Megatron stated, stepping forward confidently, “lest you forget my record as the undefeated champion of the pits.”

“Even so,” Orion took his own daring steps forward, “if you are injured no one will be able to help you!”

Megatron could not help blinking in surprise at Orion’s outburst. However, the worry laced in Orion’s words did not escape him. The edges of his scowl twitched as he chose to interpret Orion’s words favorably and ignored his own rising sense of indignation.

“I can assure you, Orion,” he began, “Two Autobot warriors, a medic, and a scout couldn’t defeat me in their wildest dreams.”

Orion parted his own frown to answer just as the hiss of opening doors stalled his response. The entrance parted to reveal Knockout nonchalantly sauntering inside, his optics glued to the datapad in his servo.

“I’ve reviewed the Eradicon performance report like you’ve asked, Soundwave, now what would you…” Knockout trailed off as he lifted his optics from the datapad to see three additional sets of expectant optics staring back at him.

“What’s going on here?”

“Knockout,” Orion’s optics lit up, “Bring Knockout!”

“Bring me where-”

“Nonsense,” Megatron waved, “I’ve already decided-”

“Knockout is a medic and a skilled combatant,” Orion interrupted, “He is extremely fast, his staff is a formidable tool, and he will be able to address any grievous injuries you may receive. Lastly-”

Orion pointed a servo towards the space bridge diagnostic projected on the main monitor. “You need someone to turn off the space bridge before it collapses, or worse, causes an explosion- rendering the bridge and all your efforts wasted. You can’t fight the Autobots and hope to expertly turn off the bridge at the same time.”

The weight of the situation fell into place as Megatron was forced to reconsider. Breakdown couldn’t help but faintly nod at the plan, and Knockout’s optics shot from mech to mech desperately trying to piece together the situation. When the medic’s optics met Orion’s his servos flew up in silent plea for an explanation. Eventually, Soundwave made his own stance clear in the form of a recording in Megatron's own voice.

“Y-you know your stubbornness will get you nowhere-re-e”

Orion and Breakdown cycled their optics in shock and Megatron’s field flared with annoyance. He closed his optics and slowly balled his digits into fits that hung tensely at his sides. After a few moments, he released his fists and looked at both Soundwave and Orion.

“Very well,” he hissed, “I will be taking your counsel just this once. Give me a bridge.”

Immediately, Soundwave activated a bridge with the pre-prepared coordinates in front of the command deck exit. Orion’s posture relaxed and he shot Breakdown a victorious expression, which was returned with a nervous nod.

Megatron ignored the others and walked past the red medic, “Knockout, with me. Stay close behind until I can clear you a path to the space bridge control panel.”

The silver clad leader did not wait for a response from Knockout as he strode into the bridge. Knockout fidgeted as his gaze jumped from Megatron back to the others.

“Would someone please tell me what is going on here!”

- - -

Arcee’s clenched fists rattled and stung with every punch that landed on the bigger mech’s frame. Despite holding her own remarkable well, her irritation only increased when Shockwave wouldn’t so much as grunt in reaction to her blows. She dodged his strikes and swipes with ease, until he suddenly used his cannon to deliver a sharp upper cut that pinned her against the nearest wall.

“I will repeat my inquiry,” Shockwave drawled, “What do you seek in this undocumented tunnel below the Decepticon capital?”

Arcee instinctively summoned her arm blades to strike the scientist’s cannon arm, but was instead released and sent crashing to the floor below.

“And how,” Shockwave gripped Arcee’s back extensions and lifted her off the ground, “did you manage to make your way back to Cybertron?”

Pain shot through her lines as her full weight hung from her wing-like bits as she struggled to reach behind to have her blades at least graze Shockwave’s servo.

“Like I’d tell you,” was all she offered in a tone as cold as ice.

Shockwave said nothing at first, only staring into the back of her helm as she flailed. However, panic shot through her system as she heard his cannon activate with a hiss.

Not waiting for Shockwave to blast a hole in her back, Arcee transformed both servos into blasters and began shooting directly at the cavern ceiling. Chunks of the interior ceiling rained down on both of them. The sudden shift in environment allowed her to pull herself free from Shockwave’s grasp and fire wildly in direction.

“If you are willing to potentially harm both of us to keep me distracted,” the scientist deduced, “then whatever you are searching for is of extreme importance to your faction.”

Arcee bared her dentae as her shots either grazed past the Decepticon or merely left burn marks where they landed. She vented heavily as she chose to dawn her blades once more, glaring at the monster that had crawled out of her past.

“If I take you with me, then maybe you’ll stay dead this time,” Arcee hissed.

Not waiting for an invitation to banter further, she charged to initiate another series of blows. This time, she focused on the bigger mech’s joints to find any openings in between his layers of armor.

- - -

The dark corridor stretched seemingly endlessly before Wheeljack finally spotted a break in the unusual wall patterns. The Wrecker assumed his protoform in panic as a dead end rushed to meet him from the shadows. His pedes skid over the metal floors and his whole body dipped into an unintended rolling motion. The wall caught him mid roll with a reverberating clang.

“Ughn, horrible landing” Wheeljack protested. His helm beat with dull pain as he got to his pedes. “Glad no one saw that.”

The Wrecker shook his helm and secured the key card from his belt, grateful that the masking extension hadn’t been damaged amidst his uncouth crash. Upon closer observation, the key card appeared to be steadily emitting a bright white light.

A crackle of energy nearly made Wheeljack jolt in surprise. He looked up to see the contours of the dead end wall begin to illuminate with soft blue light. The veins of the wall blinked softly three times before the wall parted along invisible seams. Behind the retreating wall panels sprawled an expansive room with geometric outlines embellishing each curved wall.

Wheeljack cycled his optics before hesitantly stepping inside. In the center of the chamber’s ceiling hung an ornate cylinder that emitted two different frequencies of blue light. He picked up his pace and opened his comms as he realized his current path was actually a platform leading to the center of this great room.

“Wheeljack to Ratchet, come in-”

“Wheeljack, please tell me you have good news,” Ratchet chided over the audio communications.

“There’s no way this isn’t Vector Sigma’s hiding spot,” Wheeljack reported as his optics caught a familiar rectangular gem shaped outline at the center of the platform floor.

He looked back at the key card quizzically before placing it down in the middle of the angular shape and stepped backwards as the key began to transform and expand nearly four times its size.

“Whoa!” Wheeljack reeled backwards as the blue veins extended from the ground below and the floor panels began to shift, sending even farther away from the key card. The floor panel he stood on began to rotate in a ninety degree motion as Wheeljack slid to the flat platform boundary. The central floor panels had receded to the edges of the platform to reveal an empty well. A sphere of blinding light rose from the pit, while similar rings of light rotated protectively around the central sphere.

Wheeljack could only observe in wonder as the veins of energy converged onto the enlarged key card before dissipating and beginning to cycle again in repeated motions.

“Bulk is going to leak himself when I tell him about this,” the Wrecker remarked as he opened his comms once more, “Looks like downloading has commenced for the ‘collective wisdom of the Primes.’”

No reply came, so Wheeljack assumed the others were too busy celebrating back at the mine to respond. He took the idle moments to study the chamber’s configuration, and the daunting drop below the platform he currently stood on.

The chamber was nothing short of an infrastructural marvel. Wheeljack couldn’t help but admire how the light from the center of the room reflected deliberately off the geometric wall panels to illuminate the room in a soft blue embrace. Wheeljack noted the placement of the panels and the pleasing embellishments just in case he could take inspiration for his own projects.

The Autobot was unsure how much time had passed by the time the key card’s droning beep demanded his attention. The sphere of light, the ‘spark’ of Vector Sigma he assumed, descended back into the well in which it came. Its descent was followed closely by the floor panels returning to their proper places and obstructing the well from view. Wheeljack raced to the key card, noting that it had returned to its miniature size.

The wrecker smirked victoriously as he snatched the key card, “So much trouble for the stuffy mech who took my pal Bulk from me. This had better work.”

Wheeljack streaked back across the exit platform and transformed, his tires hitting the ground with a forceful bounce as he raced back to Arcee’s position.

- - -

A land based alt-mode’s engine could be heard approaching from the east.

Shockwave noted the rumble of the engine and shriek of the tires belong to a mech of a medium build. Since the sound originated from deeper inside the dark underground corridor, the Decepticon scientist concluded that the incoming individual could only be Wheeljack. The stalky Wrecker would be returning with the Autobots’ item(s) of interest, and would provide Arcee support in their current exchange of hits and bashes.

Arcee’s ferocity had not waned since combat had begun. All of Shockwave’s attempts to end the conflict had failed, as the smaller blue Autobot found new and unexpected ways of escaping his grasp or avoiding his blows. She was sharp, and her attention did not falter with exhaustion.

Therefore, there was no logical reason to continue this pointless battle. There were two possible outcomes, and Shockwave needed to analyze the extent of their consequences.

In the first scenario, Wheeljack would assume his protoform at the last possible moment and engage in combat, resulting in an unfavorable match. The two Autobots would synergize their tactics and overpower him. In the end, he would be left in a mortally wounded state deep beneath Kaon’s surface or simply terminated.

In the second scenario, Wheeljack would continue to drive past Shockwave and command Arcee to join him in a fast-paced escape. The smaller, and much faster, Arcee would effortlessly disengage from the fight and join her fellow Autobot. With their momentum, Shockwave would not be able to catch up and eventually lose sight of both Autobots. Therefore, allowing them to successfully complete their mission and leave himself abandoned and alone on Cybertron for a second time.

Both scenarios were undesirable. If the course of the future was to be altered, immediate action was necessary.

What were his primary objectives?
The Autobots cannot be allowed to rejoin their allies.
Additionally, he needed to find a means to contact his own faction.

With his goals identified, a new plan of action formulated in his processor. There was a chance both objectives could be met.

The Decepticon scientist feigned an exhausted swipe, and the blue Autobot predictably lunged towards his cannon arm for the third time since the fight had begun. This time Shockwave utilized the opportunity to grab the bot’s wing-like extensions and lob her in the direction of her incoming ally.

Shockwave Ignored Arcee’s curses as she landed in Wheeljack’s path. Not wasting a moment to observe where she had landed, the purple mech raced backwards towards the tunnel exit. As soon as he returned to the safety of the surface, Shockwave aimed his servo to fire with great frequency at the tunnel’s entrance supports.

As expected, the once neatly symmetrical opening crumbled as the supports were compromised. Sentiments and dust erupted from the avalanche of metal, revealing the entrance (or rather exit) had been properly obstructed.

With the Autobot’s exit no longer available, Shockwave assumed his tank-like alt-mode and stormed out of Kaon. He modified his search parameters and ran a scan for any energy spikes that would identify any residual space bridge energy lingering on Cybertron’s surface.

Unexpectedly, his scanners promptly identified an active reading farther north from his current position.

Had the Autobots left their space bridge open this entire time? Such behavior was highly questionable and irrational from an energy efficiency standpoint.

However, their erroneous actions would benefit him tremendously. Shockwave adjusted his course and navigated northward as fast as his treads would allow.

- - -

“Wait here until I give you permission to join me,” Megatron directed as the two mech passed the halfway point of the space bridge portal.

“Understood,” Knockout acknowledge with an anxious edge, “and if you get overwhelmed by the Autobots-”

“Only on my mark will you leave this bridge, and no sooner,” Megatron dictated with emphasis, “Do you understand?”

Knockout nodded respectfully and skittishly waved a servo, “Of course, no sooner. Clear as crystal.”

Satisfied, the silver warlord pivoted to slowly step towards the portal exit. As Megatron reached the end of the bridge portal ramp, he was greeted with damp and mucid cavern air. The teal energy began to part as the dark cavern room came into view. The manufactured platform connected to the runways was the only level support keeping bots from falling to the precarious ground floor below. The only visible boulders from below rose like spikes from the earth below in warning. Their shapes matched the jagged rock formations that adorned the cavern ceilings.

The cave’s details fully registered in Megatron’s vision with the flat support beams materializing last as a troubled voice reverberated off the cavern walls.

“-But we need to keep the bridge open, you said so yourself!”

“Look around! If this bridge collapses it could bury us on this side. All of our efforts to locate Vector Sigma will be-”

“So, Vector Sigma is more than legend,” Megatron announced as he stepped out of the bridge’s green-blue light and into the cold cavern. The bridge remained open, bathing him in its viridescent hues, and covering the only physical exit tunnel available.

Without a word shared between them, Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee adopted offensive stances in front of the space bridge. Their blue optics constricted to become hostile shards of ice as Megatron stood at his full height.

“You have gone to impressive lengths to recover your leader,” Megatron vented as he scrutinized his opponents, “Be assured, this is as far as you will ever get.”

When his threat was met with silent glares, the ex-gladiator strode forward towards the large circular platform that was linked to the space bridge control panel and runway strip that the Autobots currently occupied. He deemed the platform sufficient to serve as an arena of sorts.

“Now, I expect Arcee to be on the other side of that bridge,” Megatron declared, “with something of interest gained from Vector Sigma.”

The silver mech deemed his suspicion to be correct as the medic’s faceplate contorted in a scowl.

“We protect the space bridge at all costs!” Ratchet rallied the others as he transformed the edges of his servos into twin blades. The shorter scout and bulkier warrior readied their own weapons in return as they all sprung forward in a triangular formation.

Energon blasts were hurled in Megatron’s direction, most being avoidable, but one small blast nicked the towering mech’s left shoulder. The pain dulled nearly as soon as the blast struck, but it was the notion alone that lit a blaze within Megatron’s core. His opponents had landed their one and only lucky shot.

In the blink of an optic, Megatron advanced to the center of the circular platform and rammed his balled fist into the green Autobot’s center of mass. With ease, Bulkhead was launched across the platform and onto the runway in front of the still active space bridge.

Ratchet and Bumblebee both endeavored to land strikes of their own, however both bots were ensnared by the neck or helm in Megatron’s clawed fists and flung in opposite directions. Seizing the brief moment of respite, the silver mech summoned his signature blade from his canon servo and approached the dazed yellow scout. With a frenzied snarl, Ratchet tackled the Decepticon leader, temporarily knocking him off balance.

Megatron smiled. He used the momentum of the medic’s weight to spin on his heel and crash the mech against the platform with a loud shriek of metal, refusing to loosen his hold on Ratchet’s servo. With a roar of his own, Megatron lifted the medic from the platform and hurled him against the nearest support beam.

“You’re going down, bucket head!”

Megatron turned swiftly only to be tackled by Bulkhead’s entire weight, causing both mechs to be launched off the central platform and sent hurtling to the rubble below. Amidst a flurry of punches and rubble, Megatron forced open his comms.

.:Knockout, now!:.

.:Copy that:.

With his part done, Megatron entertained Bulkhead’s barrage of jabs for a few clicks longer before catching the green Wrecker’s mace in both servos, and flinging him deeper into the sea of rock. The Decepticon leader cast his sight onto the nearest support beam, and began scaling his way back to the platform. He anticipated having ample time to deal with the remaining two bots while Bulkhead plucked daggered rubble from his backside.

Just as the ex-gladiator grabbed hold of the platform edge, he heard Ratchet hiss in a hoarse voice, “Bumblebee, the bridge!”

Alarm shot through Megatron’s system as he hastily pulled himself onto the platform to see the yellow scout rushing towards Knockout, who was madly shifting through control panel prompts.

Instead of calling out to Knockout, Megatron raised his cannon and fired. The single shot raced towards Knockout’s position, but was immediately caught by Bumblebee's left shoulder, knocking the yellow bot onto the runway just past the bridge console.

Knockout’s attention was torn from the control panel when Bumblebee landed with a violent crash. The Decepticon medic growled as he disengaged to stand in between the Autobot and the bridge controls.

“I recommend you step back,” Knockout warned as he transformed both his servos into their respective drills, stepping closer as Bumblebee rocked to his pedes.

Megatron saw Bumblebee’s round optics narrow as he beeped a retort before engaging Knockout in a flurry of blows and evasive maneuvers. Before Megatron could race to Knockout’s aid, Ratchet had bombarded him once again.

Ratchet’s blades were sharp, and his form respectable, but Megatron’s movements were deadly fast and even more punishing. The Autobot medic’s slashes repeatedly failed to make contact with the silver mech’s armor, which resulted in the increasingly exhausted mech overreaching to try and pierce Megatron’s chest.

Delight seared throughout Megatron’s lines as he deftly seized the opening. With a simple side step and servo twist, Ratchet was pulled into the silver warlord’s grasp and unable to escape.

“My, my, you have quite the daring moves, doctor,” Megatron breathed into Ratchet’s audials, “however, I much preferred your previous fighting style from when we last crossed blades.”

Ratchet choked on his intake, the taunt successfully upsetting the medic further as he struggled against Megatron’s iron grip.

“It’s too bad you gave up such enhancements with haste,” Megatron leaned closer, “If you hadn’t, you might have been able to give me a proper challenge.”

With a grunt, Ratchet bared his dentae and headbutt Megatron with the little strength he had left, causing the silver to flinch and catch sight of the yellow Autobot farther ahead. Megatron’s scarlet optics widened as he witnessed Bumblebee hurl himself as Knockout with such force, that both bots were sent barrelling into the space bridge.

The space bridge emitted a wave of crackling energy as the portal swallowed both bots completely.

“No,” Ratchet vented before being interrupted by Megatron’s louder objection, “No!”

Megatron secured a servo where Ratchet’s neck cables met his shoulders, and flung the medic to the nearest support beam before racing towards the bridge panel.

“Where do you think you’re- augh!”

Megatron did not stop to look in Bulkhead’s direction, instead he merely shot his cannon in the voice’s direction. The heavy thunk of metal that followed confirmed he had met his mark.

The Decepticon leader screeched to a halt in front of the console and proceeded to try and identify where Knockout had left off. The screen’s details blurred into illegible fragments every few moments in unison with the space bridge’s energy pulses.

Megatron was so focused on deciphering the characters in front of him that he barely registered the incoming yellow object headed directly for his helm.

The silver mech instinctively dodged the incoming scout and pivoted to observe the Autobot’s unconscious body bounce once before laying face down, unmoving. A hole burned into the center of his backside. The cavity was freshly singed but the impact radius was much too large to be the work of Knockout’s staff.

Megatron turned his attention back to the space bridge as Knockout puttered forward with a playful look dancing on his faceplate.

“It seems I’ve discovered something quite important on the other side,” Knockout spoke quickly as he stepped away from the bridge with a bow, “or more like, someone…”

Megatron balled his fists, anticipating a new Autobot arrival. However, the distant thump of hulking steps caught his attention. The unstable green energies of the space bridge scattered to reveal a familiar hulking figure.

A gasp from Ratchet could be heard from behind Megatron as the purple Decepticon scientist halted in front of the opened bridge. His singular red optic scanned the area before locking onto the Decepticon leader.

“Shockwave,” Megatron greeted in awe, “this is quite the unexpected return.”

“Lord Megatron,” the scientist vocalized, “time is of the essence. I have reason to be believe that I am actively being pursued by-”

Crash. Shockwave stumbled forward as two more bots emerged from the space bridge portal, raining down fire as they leaped onto Shockwave’s back and launched themselves over the Decepticons on the runway. They landed with care onto the circular platform where their allies lay defeated.

“Get fragged!” Arcee hollered as she continued to fire indiscriminately, now taking a protective stance in front of her beaten allies. Wheeljack landed next to her, both canon arms raised, but not firing.

“Wheeljack,” Ratchet rasped as he struggled to his knees, “If you got what we came for, then go!”

“Do enlighten us, Wrecker,” Megatron demanded in a coy cadence as he unfurled his blade once again, “I am eager to know what you retrieved from Vector Sigma.”

Knockout and Shockwave readied their respective weapons as they took their positions supporting Megatron from both sides. Megatron purposefully thumped his pedes loudly with each step as he approached.

Realization flashing from Arcee’s blue optics and then to Wheeljack’s as they glanced at their defeated allies and then at one another. They were at a noteworthy disadvantage.

“Go,” Bulkhead groaned as he struggled to his pedes, “you both have to go.”

“No way Bulk, I’m not leaving you here with them,” Wheeljack affirmed.

“What a pathetic display,” Megatron scorned, glowering down on his opponents, “I’ll just have to drag the information out of you as I carve your spark out of you before your very optics.”

“Knockout!” Orion’s voice hollered over the group comms, startling all three Decepticons. “You must close the bridge immediately!”

Another pulse of energy washed over the room, this one stronger than the last, nearly knocking Knockout and Arcee off balance.

“I’m on it!” Knockout shouted in reply as he navigated through the bridge’s control panel and closed the comms.

“Um, a little help closing this bridge, Shockwave?” Knockout asked urgently as he frantically tapped the power down prompt repeatedly with no success.

Shockwave wordlessly rushed to the console and hovered above the much smaller red mech, “The system is overheated and unstable. The safety protocols appear to have been-”

Another wave emitted from the opened bridge, this time causing the ground to shake as debris and rock shards fell from the cavern ceiling.

“You can’t shut it down!?” Megatron bellowed just as he heard the sound of transformation sequences and a scramble of pedes behind him.

Both Knockout and Shockwave turned towards Megatron as if to answer, but were interrupted by an even stronger wave pulse buffeting their frames. The space bridge began to wail a horrible shrieking sound as it began to radiant white light.

“Run!” Knockout yelped, as the larger scientist immediately disengaged and followed the medic’s lead.

In half a click, the space bridge's light was drained of all color before folding in on itself. Megatron seized both Knockout and Shockwave in separate servos and roared as he propelled both mechs towards the cavern’s exit. The Autobots were nowhere to be found.

Dazzling white light ignited from the bridge’s center followed by a deafening blast that engulfed the cavern in searing heat and static energy. Megatron closed his optics to shield them from the harsh elements, and felt himself thrust away from the runway and crashed onto the circular platform. Before the Decepticon leader could lift a digit, heavy rock falls had begun to land on top of his frame from the ceiling above. The platform lurched underneath him as additional rubble constrained his movements, each falling stone securing his imprisonment.

Megatron’s vision darkened and his ringing audials quieted as his systems forcibly shut down.

- - -

Orion was nervously watching the heat readings continue to rise while Soundwave struggled to navigate through the energy interferences and set proper coordinates for a return bridge. Breakdown was perched a few paces behind them failing to keep his anxious field in check.

“What is taking Knockout so long?” Orion demanded to himself, unable to hide the desperation in his tone.

As if in response, the monitors beeped in heightened warning as the internal energy reached dangerous levels. Orion felt more dread pile upon his spark, something was keeping Knockout from shutting off the bridge.

“And there’s no way to shut it off from here?” Breakdown urged the two mechs desperately.

“No, even if we tried, the safety protocols are not operational. That’s why the bridge had not yet been cleared for use,” Orion explained. Soundwave continued to stare at the readings as his visor continued to display his ongoing calculations.

The monitors let out one final warning tone just as the feed froze, becoming unresponsive. The live diagnostic feed disappeared briefly and was replaced with an empty feed - no signal. All three mechs starred in silent horror as realization dawned on them.

“Y-you don’t mean that the space bridge…” Breakdown croaked.

“No,” Orion shook his helm minutely in disbelief.

The moments felt as if it had stretched into a harrowing bream before Soundwave perked his helm and turned to face both Orion and Breakdown. His visor displayed a strained life signal feed.

It took a few moments, but Knockout’s signal materialized first. He was unconscious, but alive. To Orion’s apprehension, Megatron’s signal did not materialize. However, a mysterious third life signal populated last. The final life signal was faint, dangerously low on energon, and alive.

- - -

“Ugh,” Knockout groaned, his helm throbbing with pain and his audials ringing. His vision slowly refocused as his movements caused rubble to fall from his frame. He nervously slid his servo across his plating, and huffed when he discovered scratches where his frame had met with bedrock.

“Not the finish,” he growled as he attempted to stand. Realization hit him with force as he recognized the aftermath of a cave-in. Boulders and rock shards covered the floor of the cavern and formed a formidable hill where the space bridge once stood tall.

“You are fortunate,” Shockwave’s deep voice rumbled. The red mech whipped around to see energon dripping from a grievous wound on Shockwave’s weaponless servo as he limped closer. As if second nature, Knockout met Shockwave halfway and began examining his wound.

“Lord Megatron is still buried,” Shockwave resumed, “he is no doubt alive, but he may be gravely injured.”

“Scrap,” Knockout cursed quietly as he summoned his comms and encountered nothing but static.

“I can’t get through to anyone,” the red medic grimaced as he studied the piles of rubble that concealed the space bridge platform. “Might be something to do with the bridge’s energy interfering with our communications.”

“Then we proceed on our own,” Shockwave concluded as he readied his canon.

“Wait, hold on you’re still-”

Shockwave’s cannon filled the close quarters with a bright light, Knockout reflexively covered his optics and heard a subsequent explosion and crashing of rocks. He lowered his servos and saw a path had been cleared thanks to the scientist’s fire power.

“Well, I suppose that’s one way to carve a path forward,” Knockout remarked just as a familiar crackling of energy echoed behind him.

Both Shockwave and Knockout turned to see a ground bridge open and a familiar bulky frame step through.

“Knockout!” Breakdown called in relief as he picked up his pace to reach the red medic, “You’re alright.”

“Of course I am, you hulking brute,” Knockout answered warmly, accepting one of Breakdown’s set of digits into his own.

“Whoa, Shockwave?” Breakdown’s shock turned into ease, “I’ve never been so relieved to see you. Though, I think I know someone else who will be even more pleased.”

“We can resume introductions at a later time,” Shockwave surmised coldly as he proceeded to blast a different section of bedrock.

“Right. Lord Megatron’s still in there,” Breakdown turned back to Knockout, “I can take it from here, you should go back and inform the others. Orion would be especially relieved to see you’re alright.”

“You flatter me,” Knockout scoffed, “But we both know it’s not me he wants to see.”

Breakdown huffed with a knowing smile as he summoned his war hammer before joining Shockwave. Knockout watched Breakdown smash the larger boulders left intact from Shockwave’s blast before turning towards the ground bridge. He gave himself a few extra dustings as he dashed inside the ground bridge.

- - -

Orion expectantly faced the ground bridge while Soundwave furiously tapped away at the main console. He had begun to consider ignoring Soundwave’s directive and following Breakdown into the bridge when Knockout’s familiar frame finally burst through.

“Knockout,” Orion closed the distance with a few strides, “what happened?”

“Listen, before you proceed to blame me, the bridge wouldn’t turn off, no matter what I did,” Knockout explained, “I think we were too late. If that scout hadn’t caught me off guard-!”

Soundwave’s tapping stopped suddenly, and Knockout grimaced as he glanced past Orion.

“Ah, nevermind,” Knockout recovered, “the bridge did explode just like you said it would. The Autobots got away with something from Cybertron and my finish was ruined from the being hurled just before the chasm caved in-”

“Cave in?” Orion interrupted, “Knockout, what happened to Megatron?”

“Erm,” Knockout paused nervously, “I can assure you he led with excellence out there! The Autobot’s never stood a chance. The only thing that knocked him down was the bridge’s explosion, which took the whole chasm down with it.”

“Knockout,” Orion repeated in a strained manner, “is Megatron alright?”

“I…” Knockout fidgeted, rubbing his scuffed wrist, “I didn’t get a good look with all of the rubble, but I’m sure Breakdown and-,”

The medic’s voice trailed as slow stopping of pedes could be heard from beyond the ground bridge. Two large frames were revealed to be a wounded Megatron being supported by Breakdown on his left side. Megatron winced with each heavily limp, and his silver finish was coated with sediment and cuts. Relief bloomed from Orion’s core as he recognized Megatron would no doubt survive.

“Megatron!” Orion nearly tripped as he rushed around Knockout and placed himself at Megatron’s free side, “Are you alright!?”

Orion stood so close that his field had unknowingly entangled with Megatron’s, resulting in the silver mech shivering at the unrepressed emotions cascading off the shorter mech. Orion watched as Megatron shook his helm minutely, reset his vocalizer, and finally met his gaze.

“Yes,” the Decepticon leader articulated carefully, “I will be fine. Nothing Knockout can’t fix.”

As Megatron concluded, Orion noticed Breakdown studying him curiously. Orion could not help but blink in confusion, which gave rise to Breakdown’s smirk growing into a playful grin.

“Orion, you wouldn’t mind swapping with me? Besides being sore, you’re taller,” Breakdown petitioned casually.

Immediately, Orion assumed Breakdown’s place under Megatron’s shoulder and positioned a supportive servo on the silver mech’s side. Once fixed into the most optimal position, he gazed up at Megatron and nodded. Megatron did not speak a word, only casting his sight over the room as if attempting to appear as if his mind were elsewhere.

“There is someone else,” Knockout announced, “I think they deserve a warm welcome back to the winning team.”

As if on cue, a final series of pede falls sounded from the active bridge. The group turned in unison to see Shockwave, cradling a leaking servo, and suffering a limp of his own. The bridge closed behind the large mech, leaving behind a small trail of energon. Orion staggered at the sight and his processor abruptly began conjuring old memories from his visit to kaon.

Shockwave’s optic rested on Soundwave in the back of the room before turning slowly to leer down at Orion. Both mechs gawked at one another in eerie silence before Megatron reset his vocalizer once more.

“Orion,” Megatron began in a low voice, “I’m sure you remember Shockwave from your visit to Kaon.”

“Y-yes,” Orion agreed, “My apologies, the records indicated you had perished on Cybertron.”

Shockwave briefly turned his helm to shift his gaze back to Soundwave. His finials rose faintly, and Orion wondered if he and Soundwave were sharing a silent exchange over stares alone before the scientist suddenly turned back to him.

“Reports of my demise were greatly premature.” Shockwave answered coldly, “Autobots had infiltrated my facility, sabotaged my space bridge, and I awoke in the rubble- blinded.”

Breakdown had moved to stand next to Knockout, “So you were stranded with no way to contact us?”

“Affirmative,” Shockwave nodded, “I was making tremendous advancements in my research. Until, I was interrupted by my instruments detecting a massive surge of energy. I investigated the origin, and found a pair of Autobots searching for something deep underneath kaon. I assume you can deduce the rest.”

Orion and Breakdown both nodded and Shockwave proceeded to sweep his gaze over the room, “Is this all that is left of the Decepticons?”

“No,” Megatron attempted to stand taller while Orion stood at the ready to support him, “there is one more. Soundwave, please send word to Airachnid to join us.”

Soundwave nodded curtly before turning back to the main console. Shockwave stood quietly before choosing to pad closer to Soundwave, however his leaking servo caused him to hesitate.

“I’ll grab a compress for the leak before we get started,” Knockout stated as he whirled around to head for the med bay.

Breakdown glanced around the room and smiled bashfully, “Um, I’ll go with him and maybe find Airachnid on the way back.”

With no protests rising from anyone, Breakdown thumped back after Knockout. Shockwave closed the distance between himself and Soundwave and waited patiently for the slimmer mech to finish. Megatron starred as Soundwave turned to Shockwave with uncharacteristic quickness and the taller scientist began to drone in lower tone.

“Are you certain you are alright?” Orion whispered, forcing Megatron to tear his gaze away from his two oldest officers’ reunion.

“Do you believe me to make a habit of lying?” Megatron countered as he attempted to put some weight on his injured limb with a grunt escaping him as he lurched forward. Orion instinctively tightened his grip around the silver mech’s waist, and another on his friend’s chest plate to prop him back into an upright position.

“No, but I believe you to be one of the most prideful mechs I have ever met. You would downplay your own injuries to everyone, even yourself,” Orion chastised.

Megatron couldn’t help but scoff with a smirk. He adjusted his servo into a more stable position over Orion’s shoulders and shook his helm slightly.

“You wound me, perhaps even more so than my physical injuries,” Megatron cocked his helm to the side and pretended to ex-vent thoughtfully. However, Orion saw through the charade and rolled his own optics in response.

“As if words alone could wound you,” Orion murmured partially to himself.

“I am not immune to interchange of equals,” Megatron answered, “In fact, properly weaponized words cut deeper than any blade.”

“Of course,” Orion’s tone slipped into the realm of sarcasm, “you are ever a soft spark, how could I forget?”

For three entire clicks, Megatron simply stared back in astonishment. Orion began to worry that he may have gone too far in his prodding, however Megatron’s optics shut as a smile spread across his face plate.

“Paha!” Megatron’s frame rumbled with a deep and genuine laugh before he was able to stifle down to a chuckle. He opened his optics and smiled meaningfully at Orion, “How I have missed these talks.”

Orion felt a smile of his own materialize in an unconscious reply. Despite supporting a much stronger and heavier mech at the moment, his own limbs began to feel weightless. His lines fluttered as he realized this was the first time he had earned a sincere laugh from Megatron since arriving. Not only a laugh, but a wide smile that nearly reached his friend’s red optics.

And best of all, an admission of truth. Megatron had missed speaking as they once had.

Primus is good! Orion wanted to howl, but he instead suppressed the warm sentiments with a polite nod, “Me too.”

Megatron looked away after a moment and shifted with difficulty. His optics darted around the room before returning to Orion.

“If you don’t mind, you may stand a bit farther back,” Megatron whispered as he lifted his servo off of Orion and attempted to stand tall, grimacing slightly. “Perhaps just within servo reach. The others will no doubt return soon.”

Megatron’s tone implied that he would rather not have the others curiously observing him in such a weak state. Orion nodded in understanding before adding, “As long as you will accept my assistance afterwards to escort you to the med bay.”

“I can assure you, I can make my way there myself. I am not a helpless drone.”

“No,” Orion agreed, “You are my friend. So I can assure you that you will appreciate my help.”

Megatron’s optics twinkled for a moment as he stared at Orion. The silver mech appeared as if he were going to say something, before a shadow crossed his scarlet optics. Megatron lowered his servos and dropped his gaze to the floor between their pedes. The ex-gladiator mumbled under his breath, and Orion strained his audials to catch anything.

“...I’ve heard that one before.”

Interrupting Orion’s thoughts, Knockout and Breakdown returned with Airachnid close behind. Knockout looked at Shockwave conversing with Soundwave, shot Orion a sly smile, and stopped next to the much taller scientist.

“This will do for now, after you’ve finished all of your introductions I expect you to come by the med bay for proper treatment,” Knockout recited professionally as he applied the compress to Shockwave’s deep gash. Shockwave merely replied with, “Affirmative,” and didn’t flinch once as Knockout worked.

“What is all this about?” Airachnid strode forward and studied every bot present, “Did I miss a welcoming party?”

- - -

For the first time in recent memory, the Autobot base was electric with moving frames and conversation. All five Autobots were gathered in Ratchet’s makeshift med bay, and despite the myriad of scrapes, cuts, and aching dents, the team was in relatively high spirits. Ratchet had just finished addressing Bulkhead’s final wounds before resuming work on his final patient, Bumblebee.

Wheeljack was eagerly describing the chamber that housed Vector Sigma to Bulkhead and Arcee in great detail, while Bumblebee only paid casual attention to the story. Ratchet worked to close his gaping back wound that caused Bee noticeable discomfort, but the scout did his best to remain quiet and still despite the pain.

“Alright, we’ve got the key reloaded with the knowledge of the Primes,” Arcee announced when Wheeljack finished his tale, “now what?”

“Now we just find a way to get ahold of Optimus, right?” Bulkhead offered.

Bumblebee beeped weakly and slumped at the end of his response. Ratchet briefly lifted his tools from the scout’s wounds and knit his metal brows.

“Yes, I believe you are correct Bumblebee,” Ratchet responded softly, “Especially after today, I doubt Megatron would be willing to trade Optimus for anything we could possibly offer.”

Arcee frowned thoughtfully, “I doubt there’s any possibility we could lure Optimus out. The ‘cons seem to be insistent on keeping Optimus hidden on the Nemesis.”

“And yet,” Wheeljack input, “Starscream managed to find him by accident while sneaking inside for an energon run.”

The shorter blue bot shot the Wrecker scowl. Bulkhead glanced between both mecha before quickly interrupting, “Are you saying we need to think more like ‘Screamer?”

“We could try that,” Wheeljack shrugged, “Or we could just ask him for his advice if he were to, hypothetically, try to infiltrate the Nemesis again.”

Arcee scoffed loudly making no effort to hide her disdain at the suggestion. “What, he’s our intel guy now? Let’s not forget all the times Starscream stabbed us in the back every time we tried to extend a friendly servo.”

Bumblebee whirred to express his own view point and craned his neck slowly to look at Ratchet. The medic nodded thoughtfully before responding.

“We should not make a habit of associating with Starscream, even if he is not affiliated with the Decepticons anymore. However,” Ratchet met Arcee’s annoyed stare, “It may not be a bad idea if we can’t think of anything clever ourselves.”

Bulkhead shifted uncomfortably next to Arcee as she continued to scowl at Ratchet, but said nothing. Wheeljack took the opportunity to stand up from his makeshift stool of crates and stretch.

“Exactly,” Wheeljack mused as he finished stretching, “If we can’t figure it out ourselves, best to turn to those more knowledgeable. And, while being a known nuisance, Starscream does know best to deal with the Decepticons, especially Megatron.”

Ratchet watched as Arcee’s expression changed slightly. Bumblebee must have noticed as well, since the scout beeped an additional comment as he gestured a servo in her direction. Eventually, she ex-vented loudly and uncrossed her servos.

“Fine. If it gets us closer to saving Optimus, then it might be a worthwhile gamble,” she paused to stare at Wheeljack and Ratchet, “But if this backfires, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. We know what he’s capable of.”

“Of course, none of us are exactly eager to work with him,” Bulkhead threw in.

The remaining three mechs nodded and agreed with Arcee’s sentiment, and the subject was dropped.
Side conversations lingered for a few breams longer before Bulkhead and Arcee chose to retire to their hab-suites for recharge. Wheeljack assumed Ratchet’s workstation to monitor any unusual activity while Bumblebee received the rest of his treatment.

“When did you notice,” Ratchet asked faintly, “that Shockwave was present after you crashed into the space bridge?”

The scout’s posture rose suddenly for a moment as if the question came as a surprise. The yellow bot beeped and hummed thoughtfully in reply.

“Hm, I thought so,” Ratchet mused as he moved to a different section of yellow scout’s injury, “I would hope you would have fallen back to us if you had noticed sooner.”

In response, Bumblebee whirred in frustration and completed his thoughts in a series of unhappy boops. Ratchet paused momentarily as if considering the younger bot’s words, but instead quietly resumed his work. No one dared talk until the work was done. During that time, Ratchet numbly recalled all the ways the yellow scout could have endured worse, and how much he had already sacrificed in this unending conflict.

“Alright, I have sealed your wounds, but you need to take it easy these next few days,” Ratchet directed once finished, “No patrols until I deem you fit to do so. Now, I suggest you rest while the wound is still fresh, and I’ll have someone deliver some energon to your quarters.”

Nodding in thanks, Bumblebee hesitantly rose from the medical slab. Ratchet began gathering his tools that were strewn about for a proper cleaning. In spite of finishing the hard work, Ratchet neglected to properly grip the large welding files and chipping scalpel, resulting in the two instruments clamoring to the floor with an audial-splitting clang.

Bumblebee flinched from the sudden noise, and looked back to see Ratchet’s servos trembling slightly. The yellow bot cycled his optics and rushed to collect the welding files.

Ratchet reset his vocalizer and shook his helm, “Go, I’ll take care of this. You need to rest.”

Ignoring the medic’s advice, Bumblebee continued to gather the long welding files while Ratchet located the chipping scalpel. Once collected, the scout confiscated the scalpel from Ratchet’s digits and placed all of the items in an empty storage carton.

Before Ratchet could muster a reprimand of his own, Bumblebee beeped a despondent declaration with his metal brows pulled together in concern. As he finished his assertion, he approached Ratchet and cupped one of the medic’s quivering servos into both of his own.

Ratchet’s optics widened as he processed Bumblebee’s words. The worried scout beeped one last thanks as he released Ratchet’s servo and exited towards the hab-suite segment of the base. Ratchet noticed Wheeljack briefly shift his gaze away from the monitor to watch Bumblebee exit before returning to the main monitor.

With fluttering optics, Ratchet tried to ignore the pangs of remorse that lapped at his spark. He closed his tool kit and retreated towards the storage shelves, ensuring his back was facing the rest of the room.

“Right,” Ratchet answered quietly, “If only that were true.”

Chapter Text

The med bay entrance doors parted with an electric wheeze, allowing the familiar red medic and his larger partner to putter inside the empty room in a hesitant manner. Once the automatic doors shut behind them, Knockout raised a sharp digit to operate the manual locking mechanism. A soft click indicated the entrance has been successfully secured.

Knockout slowly turned to situate himself to stand next to Breakdown in the middle of the med bay. Both mech’s neutral expressions twisted into broad grins. Their optics exchanged a wordless message which immediately resulted in both bots being seized with laughter. Breakdown had doubled over, both servos cradling his gut as he choked on his intake. A carefree servo rested on Knockout’s helm as he laughed, his spare servo reaching for the medical berth behind him for stability.

After an entire bream of laughter and choking ex-vents passed, Knockout attempted to articulate his frame of mind.

“I can hardly believe it!” he managed in between bouts of laughter.

“You didn’t believe me!” Breakdown countered in between his own cackles, “Though, it still doesn’t feel real.”

“And then,” Knockout pointed a weak digit at the blue mech as he fought his own chuckles, “and then you offered to switch spots!”

Both mechs double over with laughter once again.

“Did you see the looks on their face plates?” Knockout prodded, venting heavily.

“Don’t, don’t remind me,” Breakdown begged, “I might leak from my good optic, it was too much.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘you’re taller.’ Hah!” the medic cackled, “You might as well just say, ‘I have no good reason to be suggesting this other than to watch Megatron squirm.’”

The bigger mech snickered with a desperate wave, “I saw an opportunity, I just had to take it.”

“Bravo, Breakdown,” Knockout suppressed the last of his laughter and shook his helm in amazement, “Today has just been full of surprises.”

Breakdown nodded, attempting to quell the laughter that threatened to escape his frame. Eventually both mech’s ex-vented in relief and glanced at the locked entrance.

“We should get back,” Breakdown concluded, “Airachnid should be here soon and I don’t want to have to explain the situation.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want to keep the others waiting,” Knockout agreed with a tip of his helm, “The show must go on.”

- - -

It was the next solar-cycle, and Megatron had gathered only his most necessary officers in the Command Deck for a most important meeting. The once spacious, and mostly empty room, was now slightly cramped with five mecha of varying size, shape, and color-schemes gathered together in a crescent shape.

To Megatron’s right stood Shockwave in his usual stiffness, studying a data pad containing all of the reports drafted while stranded on Cybertron. To the scientist’s right stood Soundwave, and to his right Knockout had situated himself to ask last minute clarifying questions about the Eradicon performance report, to which Soundwave would respond with silence for ‘negative’ and a curt nod for ‘affirmative.’

The last officer to arrive was Airachnid, who nonchalantly placed herself next to Knockout while studying her taloned digits casually. The five mecha had formed a loose circle, with a gap between Megatron and Airachnid.

Megatron reset his vocalizer to signify his readiness to begin as his gaze swept across his command team. Knockout turned off his data-pad, an easy going smile crossing his face plate as he placed his free servo on his hip. Soundwave and Shockwave stood at still attention while Airachnid crossed her servos in expectation and leaned heavily on her left limb.

“Now that everyone is present,” Megatron declared, “There is much to discuss and various tasks to reassign with Shockwave’s valuable return. However, the reports must come first to ensure we are all in unanimous understanding.”

The Decepticon leader’s gaze brushed over the group once more. “Let us begin with a reminder to everyone that Orion is not to be presented with any objectively untrue statements. Any and all communications should not be easily disproved with basic research and questioning. Do I make myself clear?”

All of Decepticon officers wordlessly nodded in agreement at varying speeds.

“Good,” Megatron nodded himself and glanced back at the datapad, “Next, we shall address the decline of our military force. Knockout, Soundwave, you may proceed with your report.”

“Absolutely, my liege,” Knockout hummed as he gestured to Soundwave’s visor that now projected troop data.

“Soundwave has noticed that the overall performance of our troops has been on a steady decline since our arrival to this planet. We are not only seeing dips in battle prowess, but also in intelligence and overall adaptability. As a result, the Autobots have been able to dispose of our soldiers with unfortunate ease.”

“Who’s to say that the Autobots aren’t simply learning how to dispose of the troops more efficiently?” Airachnid offered.

Knockout shook his helm in disagreement, “While a reasonable assumption, the results of my own evaluations disprove the possibility.”

Soundwave’s visor replaced the Vehicon data with medical records.

“As you can see,” Knockout continued, “Our current line of troops, both Vehicons and Eradicons, on average rank the lowest compared to all previous models in every category. Processing power, endurance, overall system health, and even vision are at an all time low. With statistics like these, it’s no wonder they get scrapped so easily.”

“If I may,” Shockwave interjected, “Might I inquire about the status of the cold construction process being undertaken aboard the Nemesis? I have not witnessed these levels of deterioration amongst the cold constructs created on Cybertron under my supervision.”

“Absolutely,” Megatron motioned to Shockwave as if granting permission, “Considering they are your creations we had hoped you would be able to identify whatever flaw there might be in the process.”

Soundwave turned to Shockwave and began displaying the cold construct data for the scientist’s perusal. The taller scientist, to Megatron’s internal amusement, had to bend down slightly to get a better look at Soundwave’s visor. Only a few moments passed before Shockwave’s finials lowered slightly, which was followed by a dead pan evaluation.

“The energon quality is sufficient. The materials and components also appear to be adequate,” Shockwave cited as information passed along Soundwave’s visor.

“Hold. What specifications are being utilized for CNA configuration?” the scientist questioned.

“Specifications?” Knockout echoed, “are you referring to the preliminary array?”

“Correct,” Soundwave perked, “I do not see the calculations logged for each subject. Is there a reason for this absence of information?”

Soundwave cocked his helm slightly and Knockout’s expression contorted into deeper confusion. He cycled his red optics twice before speaking once again.

“If the CNA configuration is the same every single time, why would we need to log it for each construct?”

Knockout’s question was followed by an uncomfortable pause as Shockwave briefly looked at Soundwave’s visor once more before turning his attention back to the medic.

“Are you stating that you do not update the Cybernucleic Acid configuration for each new subject’s construction to ensure optimal system health?” Shockwave asked with the smallest twinge of judgment entering his tone.

“No…?”

“That would be the source of the decay,” Shockwave concluded.

“Would you mind explaining the error for those of us outside of the scientific field,” Airachnid requested with an air of annoyance.

The purple scientist jerked his helm in Airachnid’s direction. “Very well. Much like the sparks born from the Well, each cold construct requires a unique CNA configuration. However, if the CNA strands are duplicated consistently over time then the artificial forge will create subjects with repeated and worsening defects. A copy of a copy, if you will.”

“Oh,” Airachnid nodded in understanding. “I see. Although, from an outsider's perspective they all look like copies anyway. No one can blame Soundwave for not realizing such a fatal flaw sooner.”

Soundwave did not visibly react to the indirect insult, but both Knockout and Megatron did not hide their stupefaction.

“Right,” Knockout vented in an effort to move on, “Anyways, that solves that mystery.”

“Shockwave, please assume command over the cold construct production. Soundwave can provide you with all of the details.” Megatron stated.

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” Shockwave accepted, “Still, there is something we must resolve as a result. I can reconfigure the CNA for future constructs, however what is to be done with the current set of inferior specimens?”

Knockout shifted his weight, “Are you suggesting we dispose of all the troops that are not up to snuff?”

“Oh my,” Airachnid hummed, “we would be leaving ourselves in quite the susceptible position if we were to get any more unwanted visitors. Not to mention the moral dilemma, but I’m sure that wasn’t a concern of yours.”

Megatron’s helm had already begun to ache with Airachnid’s incessant desire to derail the discussions in adverse directions. However, with Orion aboard, Airachnid may have a valid point. He ex-vented internally before speaking in the most professional manner possible.

“Shockwave, would it be possible to improve the capabilities of our current staff with Knockout’s assistance over time? It would be more advantageous than starting from scratch, so to speak.”

Shockwave’s finials rose and fell as he contemplated. “While this is an unprecedented situation, I believe such adjustments are possible with the proper assistance. However, it would require me to shift my attention away from other outstanding projects.”

“That is acceptable,” Megatron granted, “We will halt further cold construct production until you have fixed all of the internal complications. Which brings us to the matter of soldier promotion.”

“Of course,” Airachnid flashed the group a crafty smile, “Soundwave and I have both approved the performance of the Eradicon captains and deemed them fit for Project: Armada.”

“Excellent,” Megatron commended, “Knockout, I will entrust you with the redesign work. You will run your finished concept by Shockwave to ensure the design falls in line with the expectations of both form and function.”

Knockout brightened immediately, “Why yes, Lord Megatron, you will not be disappointed.”

Airachnid’s smile morphed into a mild frown, but to Megatron’s relief she did not verbalize any objections.

Soundwave’s blinking visor caught Megatron’s attention. His communications officer was minimizing the previous pages to open new documents displaying sensitive space bridge details.

“Ah yes, the space bridge project will also be transferred to the top of Shockwave’s priorities. Once completed and safely functioning, Shockwave has permission to visit his laboratory as often as necessary.” Megatron confirmed.

Shockwave inclined his helm in acknowledgement, while Airachnid’s neutral expression dipped further in annoyance.

Megatron ignored his second in command and pressed forward, “Knockout, what is the status of the Synthetic Energon Formula?”

“Progress is slow,” Knockout admitted regretfully, “I’m unfortunately not very well versed in the art compound fusion, so it’s been a lot of trial and error.”

“Hm,” the Decepticon leader thought for a moment, “You may hand over your work and any relevant specimens to Shockwave. He may yet need your assistance on the Formula, in which case you will concede to his direction.”

“Understood,” the red medic acknowledged without any fuss.

“Good. Now, onto Project Iacon.”

Megatron glanced at Soundwave, who had already begun to display the two recently decrypted Autobot codes onto the central monitor. The silver leader turned back to the group to proudly describe Orion’s recent triumph.

“Orion has decoded two entries that were revealed to be coordinates. He will continue to work diligently to decode the remaining entries. No one is to interrupt him to request assistance unless you have received my express approval.”

With the usual compliance, all officers nodded in acknowledgement. Megatron waited poignantly before continuing.

“Good. That should bring us to the final item. Shockwave, are there any breakthroughs in your research you wish to share?”

“Yes, there is Lord Megatron,” Shockwave tapped the main console interface to project his findings on the monitor for all to see.

Lines of detailed notes and diagrams of convoluted biological data were displayed for all to see. “Amongst other noteworthy projects I have undertaken, there is one long dormant project. One that I believe will offer our cause a much needed boon to our ranks.”

Airachnid leaned forward with contracted optics to get a better look while Knockout inspected the strands of CNA that rotated on screen as Shockwave continued.

“This strand hails from a specimen I excavated upon our planet, and has yielded promising results.”

“Another experiment for artificial soldiers?” Airachnid probed, “With the CNA fixes and Project: Armada, do we really need another set of petri dish experiments running amok?”

“You misunderstand,” Shockwave disputed, “The subject is nearly fully cultivated. It requires only a stellar-cycle at most before it is fully formed and ready for transportation onto the Nemesis.”

Airachnid cycled her optics in surprise, “How… brisk of you. I suppose solitude only breeds more productivity for a scientist such as yourself.”

“The shape of this CNA is quite unique,” Knockout commented, his tone sounded more impressed than confused. “This specimen wouldn’t happen to be some kind of mutated Insecticon or the like?”

Shockwave paused before answering. The faint finial twitches betrayed his internal deliberation before he finally shared his answer. “Perhaps it would be best to withhold such judgements until the specimen is fully formed. You may consider it a prospect for a later date.”

Megatron felt the glances of every mecha drift to him as he contemplated Shockwave’s meaning. He had an inkling feeling that Shockwave had good reason to maintain privacy over this project and chose to oblige him.

“There is much work to be done while this specimen develops. I trust you will share the details as the circumstances progress,” Megatron asserted with confidence.

Airachnid’s disappointment manifested as a slight slouch as Megatron continued, “And thus concludes our discussion topics. The floor is open to any clarifications or miscellaneous news anyone wishes to share.”

The flashy red medic thought for a moment before shaking his helm in response. Soundwave and Shockwave did not make any motion to signify having any questions of their own. Megatron’s posture eased a bit with the end of the meeting in sight, however Airachnid raised her clawed servo in question just as Megatron began to place his servos behind his frame.

“Yes, Airachnid?” the silver leader acknowledged with strained neutrality.

Airachnid flashed a most sickly smile as their optics met, “Pardon my question, Lord Megatron. I would like to offer my services for more esteemed work assignments. By now I could perform nightly energon scavenges while blinded. Perhaps, I could assist Orion or Shockwave with their abundance of work?”

Megatron noticed Knockout raised his metal brows in reservation at the suggestion and unconsciously channeled his irritation into an automatic reply.

“That is quite the generous offer. Since you are so eager to assist, you can assume Breakdown’s additional patrols. Your alt-mode will provide a much needed advantage from the sky, and I’m sure Breakdown would be grateful for the respite.”

All optics darted back to Airachnid as she calmly unfurled her sharp digits and smirked.

“I appreciate the suggestion, Lord Megatron,” the gold and purple mecha bowed slightly, “However, that sounds more akin to a drone’s job. Perhaps an Eradicon or a mini-con would be better fit for the task.”

A stunned silence followed Airachnid’s suggestion, and Shockwave somewhat twitched in Soundwave’s direction. Megatron assumed Soundwave’s field had revealed a reaction of some sort, which had caught Shockwave’s attention. Regardless, Soundwave continued to appear physically unphased with Airachnid’s antics. Meanwhile, Knockout’s glare appeared sharp enough to cut living metal, although Airachnid displayed no indication of noticing.

“Unfortunately,” the Decepticon leader grated his dantea, “That is the only option available at the moment. If the situation changes, we can reconsider the motion.”

Airachnid seemed to catch Megatron’s seething emotions underlying his firm verdict and chose to step down from her impudent position with a small bow.

“Of course, I certainly hope so. I have much to offer in pursuit of our glorious rise to power.”

- - -

Just outside the command deck’s closed entrance stood the two Vehicon guards known as R-105 and Grey. The two sentries were perched at the ready with R-105 glancing in Grey’s direction every few clicks. Grey had ignored his fellow Vehicon’s silent gesture ever since Airachnid had finally joined the others in the command deck, but could ignore him no longer.

“What is it?” Grey asked defeatedly.

“No need to be so uptight, Soundwave can’t be bothered to listen if he’s busy,” R-105 protested with a hush.

“I know that. So what's got you fidgeting so much?” Grey shot back.

R-105 leaned towards his fellow ‘con in lively fashion. “Did you hear about how Lord Megatron reacted to Starscream’s trespassing?”

“Huh, More like how he nearly accosted Orion. I would have offlined from fright if I was in his pedes seeing Lord Megatron rush towards me like that.”

“No, I heard from XL-132 that he wasn’t actually angry at Orion, but worried.”

“What? No way, the fliers always exaggerate gossip.”

“But it’s true! DT-173 debriefed Orion and saw the whole thing,” R-105 side stepped closer, “He was genuinely concerned that Starscream had harmed Orion.”

Grey scoffed loudly, “And what does Cyl say?”

“Oh, he’s still bothered after the whole ordeal. He’s annoyed Orion didn’t alert him immediately, and that Starscream made a fool of him as he escaped.”

“He should just be happy he’s alive. It could have been a really messy situation.”

“You know how Cyl is,” the Vehicon shrugged, “anyway, the point is that Lord Megatron actually cares for Orion- even if only a little!”

“I don’t know about that,” Grey shook his helm as if shaking off R-105’s reasoning, “It’s all just for show, ya know? To keep Orion willingly aboard.”

R-105 snorted, “Quite convincing then if it’s all a performance. DT-173 would adamantly disagree based on what he saw.”

Grey turned his helm to meaningfully stare at his comrade. Evidently unconvinced, Grey stood taller and began speaking in an exaggerated manner as if endeavoring to impersonate Megatron.

“When Orion Pax emerges he is to be shown every courtesy! May the old Autobot leader not crush you if he is in any way displeased. However, I will be the one to crush you if I perceive your actions as inconvenient!” the Vehicon announced with a sweeping motion as R-105 snickered loudly.

“Shh!” R-105 hushed between his snickers, “Whatever, you can detract all you want. You’ll see.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Grey chuckled as he dropped his impersonating gesture.

The two Vehicons’ hushed laughter subsided as they resumed their original positions. A comfortable silence followed returning the corridor halls to their usual stillness. About two breems passed before R-105 began stealing another series of hesitant glances.

“Hey,” he finally called out when Grey failed to register his looks, “What do you think of Shockwave?”

His comrade cocked his helm in question before looking away thoughtfully. He lifted a digit to rest on his chin before answering. “I think his return is sudden. And Lord Megatron is pleased, so that’s good.”

R-105’s gaze lingered on Grey for a moment, “And?”

“And,” Grey hesitated, “He seems… like a capable bot?”

R-105’s field flared with understanding as he minutely shook his helm and suppressed a sneer, “You haven’t met him have you.”

“Well, I haven’t met him in person, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” R-105 glanced around for a moment before leaning closer with a whisper, “There’s something different about him. Everyone of us who has seen him in person agrees.”

Grey’s optic visor lingered on R-105’s expression with skepticism. “Different like what? Like Soundwave?”

“Not like that,” the Vehicon shook his helm deeply as if trying to find the right words, “He feels… different. His EM field is not like the others, and when he looks at you it’s like he’s looking into your spark.”

“So he’s creepy. I mean, having only one giant optic to fill your helm will do that,” Grey reasoned.

“No, it’s like that,” R-105 objected, “It’s only creepy for a click, then it just feels familiar. Like you’ve known him from a time you can’t remember.”

“Okay, now I know you’re just trying to play with my processor,” Grey huffed in irritation.

“What? Grey, I’m not fooling around-”

The two Vehicons instantly stopped speaking as the sound of pedes from inside the command deck reached their audials. They resumed their positions just as the entrance parted, and three sets of pedes exited. A subdued Airachnid led the exit party, followed by a lively Knockout, and silent Shockwave.

Shockwave thumped at a slower pace. By the time the entrance doors closed behind him Airachnid and Knockout were nearly out of sight, turning opposite corners en route to their stations. Both Vehicons instinctively glanced at Shockwave.

The Vehicons felt their struts slacken as they absorbed the scientist’s sturdy silhouette. Their optic visors traced the strong contours of Shockwave’s frame. Their stares lingered on the Decepticon’s violet plating and gleaming biolights- the color of which was strikingly similar to their own biolights.

Shockwave slowed his walk to a stop a few paces in front of the two Vehicons. R-105 and Grey tensed as the scientist slowly turned to face them, his deep red optic scanning each of them in an effortless manner. The two Vehicons stared back as if captivated by some internal programming that demanded they not look away. Finally, Shockwave settled his optic on Grey.

“You have an inquiry,” Shockwave stated flatly.

The scientist’s voice washed over the two Vehicons with a shiver. The figurative ice on Grey’s joints began to melt as embarrassment setted in his lines. He saw R-105’s helm snap in his direction as his thoughts began to flounder.

“I- I, didn’t say anything,” Grey stammered, “My apologies for staring, Shockwave, sir.”

“You did not speak,” Shockwave confirmed, “However, I can sense you are withholding an emotionally charged inquiry. Proceed.”

Grey scrambled to answer, his processor delayed from humiliation. “W-well, your presence is unlike the others. I was surprised, t-that’s all. I meant nothing by my staring, sir.”

Shockwave waited patiently before answering, “Your observations are correct. It would seem not all constructs have lost their innate senses.”

The scientist’s words hung in the air, as both Vehicons failed to grasp his meaning.

“Pardon sir,” R-105 interjected, “what do you mean by that?”

Instead of answering with words, Shockwave’s finials rise a bit and a message like that of personal comm flashes in their process. The communication read like a distant voice, unexpected, but not an unwelcome one.

As creator and construct, we share an innate connection. You were formed from fragments of my own biographical data, and as such our connection bypasses traditional means of communication.

Both Grey & R-105 jumped, their plating clamoring as they landed with graceless thuds. They stared back in awe at the purple scientist. Internally, both mechs hesitantly investigated the communication. They studied the rigid cadence of the message, unconsciously opening themselves up to the message as if opening a comms channel.

Grey formulated an immediate reaction that felt whisked away by the vacuum of the metaphorical channel. What is this?

An innate connection, Shockwave repeated.

R-105 asked, Can you do this with everyone?

Theoretically, yes. Assuming your peers operate at a similar level of cognition.

Wow, was all Grey could muster in response as he probed the connection again.

Your emotional reservations will pass, Shockwave stated before either Vehicon could articulate the feeling. With your inquiries answered, I will take my leave.

With a brisk turn, Shockwave had resumed his relaxed pace to his temporary workstation. Grey and R-105 felt the channel between them all close, with the two Vehicons lingering for a moment before unconsciously closing the feed.

The two Vehicons didn’t dare speak until the sound of Shockwave’s distant pedes faded from their perception. Afterwards they both slumped and released the tension from their frames.

“I’m going to say it,” R-105 blurted out.

“No, please,” Grey begged with a servo to his temple, “I can’t deal with your antics right now.”

- - -

After a post meeting debrief with Soundwave, Megatron finally departed from the Command Deck. The others had long since been dismissed by the time he left Soundwave to his duties. Megtaron recalled that he had a rare gap in his schedule before his next appointment, to which Knockout advised he ought to rest to allow his limb to heal. Initially he had resisted the thought, but after the recent meeting and debriefs the thought of laying down and resting was quite appealing. As a result, he trudged down halls, taking an indirect route back to the Hab-suite block so that he could limp without concern for his image.

Not that it would make much of a difference with such a skeleton crew these days.

As Megatron journeyed onward he released the lingering concerns in his processor with a few dismissive shakes of his helm. This adjustment period will pass, and the Decepticons will be stronger for it. As usual, Megatron set his sights on the future with confidence.

Like a moth to a flame, the thought of Orion had snuck its way into the idle spaces of Megatron’s mind. Megatron took the bait without much thought, and recalled their previous conversation with delight. His flat expression lifted slightly as he replayed Orion’s jest in his processor. Perhaps Orion had not lost the sense of wit he was once known for.

The silver mech’s thoughts were interrupted by the thud of falling objects and uncertain steps. Megatron increased his hobbling pace to peer around the next corner. His optics easily identified the backside of Orion’s red and blue frame as he crouched to retrieve a stray energon cube. In his left servo a tall stack of similarly condensed cubes protruded just over his shoulder armor.

Megatron cycled his optics once before resuming a speedy pace to catch up to the oblivious mech. The notion of rest was now a discarded suggestion from a past endeavor long since forgotten.

“Orion?” Megatron called from farther down the corridor, choosing not to scare Orion with his sudden appearance.

The ex-autobot leader turned to the side to reveal the complete stack of condensed energon cubes as he met Megatron’s gaze. His expression quickly changed from surprised to pleased as Megatron approached.

“Megatron,” Orion greeted warmly, “Dare I ask why you are moving about instead of resting your injury?”

“And dare I ask why you appear to be doing a maintenance Vehicon’s job?” Megatron shot back with a raised brow.

Orion smirked with a huff and resumed his journey through the halls, “Gage is bombarded with additional maintenance shifts so I offered to take up his energon deliveries to Breakdown’s next posts. It serves as a small change of pace in between decoding.”

“I see,” Megatron mumbled, attempting to catch up to Orion’s pace and ignoring the small bursts of pain that sprung from his wounded leg. Once matching Orion’s steps, he leaned closer to reach for the topmost cubes in Orion’s stack. “You look like you could use some assistance yourself…”

“Megatron,” Orion chided as he playfully moved the stack of energon just out of the Decepticon leader’s reach, “You should be resting, I can’t have you helping me and risk aggravating your injury.”

Resisting the competitive urge to overreach and snatch the entire stack of energon cubes from Orion’s grasp, Megatron instead bared his dantea at Orion with a sportive grin. “It is a minor setback that will not keep me from doing as I please. Now, Orion, if you would oblige me by allowing me to lighten your load.”

Megatron reached out once again, unsuccessfully, as Orion back stepped and watched as Megatron unintentionally leaned on his injured limb and growled.

Orion couldn't help but chuckle as Megatron glowered in his direction, “I take it my point has been proven?”

“You have proven nothing,” Megatron growled as he launched another servo assault on Orion’s energon stockpile.

Anticipating Megatron’s stubborn pursuit, Orion gripped the stack of cubes tighter and feigned behind Megatron and proceeded to briskly pace forward.

“You dare refuse my aid, librarian?” Megatron called out in a taunting tone as he gave a limped chase.

“What?” Orion pondered out loud, “Since when could this librarian out run the undefeated champion-”

His stride and teases were interrupted by Megatron’s clawed servos appearing from behind him and grasping the middle of the stack. Instead of lifting them up and over Orion’s helm, Megatron pulled both Orion and the stack closer into a firm embrace. He lifted Orion briefly off the ground before swiveling on his good pede, releasing a surprised Orion back to solid floor, and pilfering most of the stack from Orion’s distracted servos.

Without a word of explanation, Megatron triumphantly shuffled down the corridor. It took Orion a hesitant click and a stunned look down at the two remaining cubes in his grasp before his expression changed to one of retaliation. He caught up to the Decepticon leader in a matter of moments, and opened his dantae in objection just as Megatron interrupted him once again.

“Where to first?” Megatron asked smugly, “The closest post is on the other end of this floor.”

“Megatron!” Orion grumbled, “You mustn't tease me at the expense of your injuries! Please, hand me those cubes.”

Megatron playfully mimicked Orion’s earlier tactics and deftly moved the stack of energon out of the shorter mech’s reach. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken so many in one trip. I’m afraid I can’t allow you to endure the burden by yourself.”

Orion scoffed loudly, “I am no helpless protoform. Please, I should at least be bearing the brunt of the load.”

To his frustration, Megatron continued to smile victoriously and stay the course. “I’m afraid you’ll find me quite disagreeable, Orion. As I am the leader aboard this vessel, you will have to concede to my directive. And I have decided you will be doing no such thing.”

Orion cycled his optics before chuckling, “Then I’m afraid you’ll find me unruly and troublesome. I have no desire to see you suffer at the expense of your pride,” Orion turned to catch the silver mech’s gaze, “You ought to know you can always share your burdens with me.”

It was now Megatron’s turn to close his optics and snicker, “Bold words from the bot who refused to share his load of energon.”

Megatron suppressed a deeper laugh as Orion scowled and half-heartedly rammed his shoulder into the silver mech’s occupied servos. It was only a moment of contact, but it was enough to surprise Megatron and silence his laughter.

The two mechs continued to walk in unison, however Megtaron was suddenly acutely aware of the silence that followed. Unable to bear the quietness any longer, Megatron reset his vocalizer and scrambled to introduce a new topic of discussion.

“As of now, Shockwave has been formally inducted back into the Decepticons and has been reassigned duties. Amongst the changes, there is a new development you may appreciate.”

“Oh?” Orion cocked his helm slightly so that Megatron could catch his curious expression. “Might it have something to do with Project Iacon?”

Megatron lifted his chin slightly, “No. Shockwave found an error in troop production that was causing regression in their capabilities. In an attempt to increase their survival rate, Shockwave will be assisted by Knockout to improve their abilities and primary functions.”

Megatron watched Orion's optics brighten with delight. A smile spread across Orion’s face plate as he spoke, “In other words, with Shockwave’s addition we have the means to properly support them and provide them the extended lifespan they are entitled to.”

The red and blue mech closed his optics in relief before meeting Megatron’s vermillion gaze with blue solace filled optics. His red plating sunk with relief as megatron nodded in confirmation.

“This is excellent news,” Orion admitted with a sigh, “Cyl and all the others deserve this enhancement. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Megatronus.”

The silver mech’s brow raised slightly and his response caught in his intake as Orion stuttered, realizing his error.

“My apologies,” Orion stammered with drooped optics, “it seems I am still a creature of habit. I appreciate your concern, Megatron.”

Lowering his metal brows, the Decepticon leader bashfully shifted his gaze to the corridor walls. “It is of no consequence, hence there is no need to apologize. It eases me to know you are comfortable here.”

The shorter mech expression brightened slightly, “Yes, I am. Although I would be even more content if you allowed yourself to rest rather than exert yourself at my needless expense.”

Megatron chuckled deeply, warmth returning to his frame. Perhaps he would find more time to ‘accidentally’ encounter Orion on his breaks.

“A noble effort, but one I will keep declining. If this continues then we may never find peace here.”

- - -

“Must you insist on being so obstinate?”

Orion’s playful exclamation echoed through the corridor and around the corner where an unheeded spectator listened intently. Their digits clenched and unfurled at every beat in the overheard conversation.

“I prefer the term- unyielding,” Megatron’s counter reverberated in a softer manner, indicating the two mechs were moving farther down the halls.

“Perhaps the word you're looking for is headstrong.”

The listener barely suppressed a snicker of their own as they identified the smile that colored Orion’s tone. Megatron’s own lively quality had been surprising enough to catch while slinking through the hallways in search of an unsuspecting Orion Pax.

“Two for the price of one,” their sing-song voice whispered as the voices of Megatron and Orion faded away.

Their magenta optics brightened while a widening venous smile decorated their face plate. With a final clench of their clawed digits, the spectator slipped away. Their long arachnoid shadow casting a most daunting figure as they went.

- - -

Besides the tapping of keys and soft beeping of notifications, Soundwave was comfortably consumed with surveillance and file transmissions within the empty Command Deck. Motion sensors from outside the chamber alerted Soundwave of an inevitable disturbance, to which the mech’s typing faltered only momentarily. The desire to groan lingered in Soundwave’s chest just before catching a glimpse of the security window, which revealed the identity of a most welcome intruder.

Not turning from the current monitor, Soundwave heard the entrance part to make way for Shockwave. The Decepticon scientist’s lumbering steps were a familiar sound, although Soundwave quickly noticed the way his recovering limb caused a faint shuffling sound as he walked. It may well be a few more solar-cycles before Shockwave’s pede falls would return to their unusual even-tempered rhythm.

“Soundwave,” Shockwave announced in greeting as he thumped towards the silent communications officer.

Soundwave turned his helm to face the new arrival in acknowledgment before disengaging from the main console and adjusting his entire frame to face Shockwave.

“Pardon my unannounced interruption,” the bigger mech rumbled as he stood a pace away, “It has been some time. I had hoped to seek your counsel for the space bridge files, along with your appraisal of recent events.”

The communications officer’s helm nodded as bits of his chest plate twitched restlessly. Soundwave turned to assemble Shockwave’s requested files, only for Laserbeak to willfully override Soundwave’s directive and eject himself into the empty space between the two Decepticons.

Shockwave briefly recoiled from the sudden movement, only to relax immediately as he recognized the mini-con. He wordlessly extended his cannon mounted servo in the mini-con’s direction, to which Laserbeak eagerly accepted the offer and perched himself onto the scientist’s hefty cannon. Shockwave delicately brought his servo to his shoulder, allowing Laserbeak to hop onto the scientist’s gently curving shoulder plating. Chirping happily, Laserbeak settled onto the inner layer of Shockwave’s shoulder- perching at an angle so as his wings didn't graze the scientist’s helm.

“Agreed, it has been longer than anyone could have anticipated.” Shockwave admitted to the mini-con who cheeped in response.

Soundwave gazed at Laserbeak in silent chastisement before stealing a glance at Shockwave and returning to the console. Within a few moments, the proper files had been selected and sent to Shockwave’s newly established personal channel. Once completed, Soundwave turned to once again face the scientist expectantly.

“Thank you, Soundwave,” the bigger purple mech droned, “It is reassuring to see you both functioning. Especially with such diminishing numbers.”

Laserbeak fluttered his usually static metal wings in response, his field flaring with confidence as if to say, ‘Did you ever doubt us?’

Instead of shooting Laserbeak another disapproving glance, Soundwave simply allowed the mini-con to enjoy Shockwave’s company. In turn, the Communications officer allowed his limbs to slacken and his field to loosen.

“However,” the scientist continued after Laserbeak’s posturing, “I did not think our forces were so strained as to accept Autobot defectors. Even if amnesia has been a confirmed factor in this equation.”

Soundwave lifted his helm at the thought, understanding Shockwave’s concerns with their new ‘decryption specialist’ on board. Within two clicks, Soundwave had found a sound file sufficient enough to serve as an explanation.

“N-no one could have foreseen this outcome, and we have capitalized well. // I-if we continue to treat Orion as an ally, we could have a fiercely loyal Decepticon in our midst-st.”

Megatron’s recorded voice reverberated throughout the room only once before Soundwave abruptly ended the recording. Shockwave took a moment to ponder the answer before responding.

“Having the Autobot’s key figurehead as a loyal Decepticon is a noteworthy boon. Even so, there are risks that must be accounted for. Especially when considering our leader’s history with this specific Autobot.”

Shockwave paused again, his finials rising and falling slightly. “What is your evaluation of Orion Pax?”

Soundwave lowered his helm and then shifted back to the console monitor. Shockwave patiently moved himself next to the slimmer mech to get a better view of the monitor, their fields brushed confidently against each other as Soundwave worked.

Eventually, Soundwave had three files displayed. The first was a sample of complicated code Orion was currently working to decrypt, the second was Orion’s written notes overlaid on the space bridge schematics, and the third was a series of silent videos depicting Orion partaking in energon deliveries in his spare time. The slim mech would occasionally lift a servo to emphasize certain areas of detail, such as Orion being responsible for deciphering Shockwave’s archived notes or how Orion had decoded the first two coordinates in half the time Soundwave had projected.

“You believe Orion’s contributions outweigh the potential risks he may pose, at least for the moment,” Shockwave concluded. A chirp and nestle from Laserbeak told him that he was correct.

Shockwave continued to observe the information strewn across two monitors when movement from the ongoing surveillance monitor caught his attention.

“Even so, you continue to monitor his activities. Forgive my intrusion and speculation, if you believe keeping Orion onboard to be a worthwhile venture then I will concede to your judgment.”

Soundwave stared at the live feed as Shockwave spoke, noting how Orion and Megatron had stopped at one of Breakdown’s posts to furnish the energon supply. Once completed they continued exchanging lighthearted words enroute to Orion’s workstation.

Soundwave turned back to face the taller Decepticon and held his gaze for a few silent moments. Shockwave reciprocated the quiet exchange until his attention was directed inwards to an incoming comms message.

.:Affirmative. Your confidence is appreciated:.

Shockwave’s field brightened faintly, and his posture inched closer towards the communications officer in acknowledgement. “If you can spare the time, it would assist me greatly if you would be present while I review the artificial forge specifications. I will inevitably have clarifying questions. It would also be a more efficient use of my time.”

Soundwave recognized the nearly imperceptible twinge of anticipation in Shockwave’s otherwise toneless suggestion. Such analytical matters provided Soundwave with the rare opportunity to engage with the scientist’s genuine interests, while also indulging in his own appreciation for locating and reciting archived data. It was as if not a day had passed between the two officers.

And yet, movement on the surveillance monitor piqued Soundwave’s attention. Megatron was in the process of leaving Orion outside of his workstation, the two mechs vexed Soundwave with their drawn out farewells as if they would not see each other for deca-cycles. There was an urge to navigate to the security interface and lock Orion’s workstation out of habit.

Yet, Shockwave’s proposition still stood. The communication’s officer passed his gaze back over the newly reinstated scientist and Laserbeak. The mini-con was nudging Shockwave’s helm in a sheepish plea for a pat, to which the bigger mech leaned his helm closer and obliged by lifting his free servo to lightly pat Laserbeak’s torso. The movement satisfied Laserbeak greatly as he nestled deeper into the crook of Shockwave’s shoulder.

Upon further consideration, locking Orion’s workspace and hab-suite entrances were no longer a worthwhile endeavor.

Soundwave beckoned his two companions closer as he located any relevant files on the artificial forge. Both Laserbeak and Shockwave’s fields inched closer until they were comfortably huddled together. A sense of what could only be described as familiar contentment slowly unfurled from Soundwave’s core. Perhaps Laserbeak’s elation was affecting his otherwise neutral disposition.

- - -

A few levels below the command deck, Airachnid crept alongside the shadows within the Nemesis’ halls. Each click of her sharp pedes rang eerily as closed in on her point of interest. While her expression appeared neutral, her field had not dipped once since she had overheard a delightful conversation between her superior and her newest mark.

She had been careful to allow a few cycles to pass before making herself known. All the while a multitude of ideas and ambitions had wrestled one another in a fight for recognition within her. Possibilities as endless as Cybertron’s throughways extended before her, and somehow she found the discernment to play the simplest card she had.

Soon enough Orion’s workspace came into view and, as expected, the lights indicated Orion was still inside working away on Megatron’s pet project. The gold accented mecha stationed herself just out of view, but close enough for her to see Orion exit. She didn’t expect the ex-Autobot leader to end his shift soon, she just needed him to depart his workstation for any reason, an opening was all she needed.

Airachnid spent the next half cycle observing the rare passage of a Vehicon patrol and listening for any noise that might escape Orion’s chamber. She studied the workstation lights with such intensity as if to etch the very light frequency inside her processor forevermore.

And her patience would be rewarded, as thumps from within the workstation turned her purple optics into those of a predator. She slunk further into the shadows as the entrance parted, and an unsuspecting Orion Pax leisurely stepped out into the halls and turned to exit in a direction opposite to Airachnid. His attention was apparently absorbed entirely by the garish tablet Megatron had adorned him with.

With the utmost stealth, Airachnid sprung from her hiding place and drew close to Orion. When only a few paces separated them, she purposefully stepped heavily so that her clicking pedes alerted Orion of her presence.

“Oh, Orion! What a surprise, I was just on my way to pick up a perimeter patrol,” she hailed with an easy smile. A bright facade had overcome her dark countenance like a sudden burst of sunlight from an overcast sky.

To her amusement, the taller mech jolted in place and nearly dropped the tablet. After securing the item in his servos, he hastily turned and broadcast a polite smile in greeting. “Commander Airachnid. I hope you are well.”

“You may drop the formalities,” Airachnid waved as she took up position next to the red and blue mech, “You may speak to me as an equal in private.”

“Certainly,” Orion accepted while he continued his walk, the stiffness in his posture not easing in the slightest. “Though, I hope you will forgive me if I forget and accidentally refer to you as Commander.”

“Of course, I won’t bite,” she breezily assured.

“But while on the topic,” Airachnid paused to feign a stray thought before continuing, “I couldn’t help but notice that you never use the Lordship title when speaking to Lord Megatron. May I ask why?”

The question caused Orion’s pace to slow while his smile faltered, “I suppose I always subconsciously assumed the title was optional. Now that you bring up the practice, I realize it may appear bold of me to neglect the formality.”

“My, my,” Airachnid murmured, “You make it sound as if you two are simply friends, instead of superior and colleague.”

The question prompted an uncomfortable pause from Orion. “That may be the case for many aboard the Nemesis, however I do see Megatron as a friend. With our shared history prior to the war, it is not so unexpected,” Orion explained in an almost hesitant manner.

Airachnid took note of how his optics had begun to fidget and how clenched his jaw appeared. She conconcluded it to be an optimal opening to bruise her target.

“Orion,” Airachnid said warningly, “You must consider the circumstances for a moment. Is Lord Megatron truly someone worthy of your loyalty and confidence?”

The question hung in the air between them for mere moments before Orion responded with haste. “The prospect of worthiness was not a particular factor in my view. Megatron is a friend, whom I admire. Loyalty and confidence are mutually provided in any friendship.”

“Hmm, I think I am beginning to understand your perspective,” Airachnid conceded politely, “however, I would like to offer you cautious warning from the perspective of someone who has seen Megatron throughout this exceedingly long war.”

She lowered her digits and stepped closer, “In extreme circumstances, one often reveals their true nature.”

Orion furrowed his metal brows, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” the dark mecha ex-vented reluctantly, “It does pain me to explain it. I’m only telling you this to save you the unnecessary sparkache later, because I don’t want you to be disappointed like I was.”

Airachnid contained her enthusiasm as Orion met her gaze with alarmed and pleading optics. “Did something horrible happen?”

Hooked, Airachnid sneered internally, this is just too simple.

“Oh, Orion,” she murmured with a remorseful expression, “I wish it was only one instance. Unfortunately, it’s a collection of events that paint a dark picture.”

“Perhaps the best place to start would be back on Cybertron,” Airachnide adjusted her posture, “Despite our superior numbers, the Autobots continued to expertly crippled our ranks by seizing our strongholds. Megatron became desperate, and resorted to capturing Autobot troops and torturing them for information. While cruel, one could argue exceptions needed to be made during war, however the violence continued.”

As if the memory was too painful to recollect, she paused. “In time, not even Decepticons were safe from his wrath. I’m sure you’ve heard about Starscream’s unjust treatment?”

Orion’s expression remained pitifully appalled. “I-In truth, I have only heard fragments of the complete story.”

“Well, then you may know that Starscream and I were never on the friendliest of terms due to our differing personalities. But I always felt he never deserved to be treated with such severe punishment whenever he fell short of Megatron’s expectations.”

She shook her helm and continued, “Starscream had been with Megatron since the beginning, and is the sole reason for the Decepticons gaining the entirety of the seekers as allies. Yet, his loyalty did not save him in Megtaron’s optics. When Starscream failed to finish a job, Megatron would verbally berate him. And eventually his verbal punishments turned physical.”

Orion’s walk ceased altogether. “Megatron would physically beat Starscream?”

“Yes,” Airachnid hushed as she stopped just ahead of him. “And once we arrived to Earth, it became commonplace. I’m sure Soundwave has many recordings. Starscream would always beg Megatron to spare him, and grant him a merciful second chance to no avail. Most Decepticons have heard the thrashings, while many of us have been forced to witness them firsthand.”

“And Starscream could never defend himself?”

“How could he?” the slim mecha gasped, “Megatron is far bigger, stronger, and more ruthless than any one of us. He also has complete authority over the Decepticons, no one would dare defend Starscream and risk their own life.”

“That is why…” She pretended to trail off as she gathered herself. “I abandoned Starscream when we were assigned on a mission together. It was the only way to save him from Megatron.”

Orion’s furrowed brows lifted as if realizing something, “You, that’s why you-”

“Hush!” Airachnid put a sharp digit over his face plate and posed as if to suddenly study their surroundings. “No one can know I orchestrated his departure, in case Megatron decides I am to be his new battering toy.”

She waited for Orion to slowly nod, “Thank you,” she sighed. “Starscream is proud, and believes himself worthy of leading. However, his pride is what kept him at Megatron’s destructive side. I knew he would never listen to reason and leave of his own volition. One day, news reached me that Megatron had brought Starscream to an abandoned energon mine, alone.”

She turned her optics to the side as if recalling the moment, “I was certain Stasrceam would be terminated, but he somehow returned alive- but injured.”

Airahnid glanced back at Orion to see his faceplate had become grim with a shadow cast over his optics.

“I decided I had seen enough. So, I orchestrated a situation in which Starscream and I would be deployed together on the same mission, and abandoned him. Megatron was furious with me when I reported I was unable to locate Starscream and return with him after the Autobots interfered- that much was at least true.”

“When I expressed we might be better off without Starscream, Lord Megatron only became more infuriated. Since then, I have been assigned work that keeps me away from the Nemesis, which I can only assume is a form of punishment.”

The shorter mecha chose to end her story and allow Orion a chance to respond. Her satisfaction only grew when Orion didn’t so much as lift servo or try to ask another question. Less arguing meant less convincing.

“I hope you can still respect Megatron as a strong leader. That much, I cannot deny. However, his tactics are not always… sound. And look where speaking out got me,” Airachnid gestured to her surroundings dramatically. “Picking up the solo work so far removed from my peers.”

This time, Airachnid patiently waited for Orion to muster a response. She periodically inched closer as if to display visible concern until he finally arrived at an answer.

“I appreciate you sharing what you know, Airachnid,” he finally mustered.

“Of course, Orion, of course,” the dark mecha resumed her lighter tone, “I meant it when I said I would be happy to help you find your place on the team. I wanted to ensure your safety and spare you the disappointment of finding out for yourself. There are not many on this ship who understand that we can still want the same things without condoning abhorrent behavior.”

Before Orion could attempt a reply, Airachnid immediately feigned receiving a comms message with a digit to her audials, “It seems I’ve lingered too long and must depart for that patrol immediately. Apologies Orion, I appreciate the chat.”

“Wait, Airachnid,” Orion stepped after the smaller bot, “If you would spare me one more moment-”

“I am ever so sorry, Orion, I really must be going,” she repeated with a small bow as she went.

“Please, it will not take long,” Orion pleaded, now picking up his pace to follow her.

Stubborn mech, she seethed as she stopped abruptly and deliberately whirled around just as Orion would have collided with her frame. Instead, her motion surprised the taller mech and her back limbs caught onto something smooth and fragile.

Crasshinkt!

Airachnid's gaze shot down to the floor below where Orion’s peculiar tablet now lay. Shattered veins sprawled like webs over the damaged screen originating from a bottom corner, undoubtedly from the first point of contact with the floor. She felt Orion’s field slowly building with distress as he remained frozen in place.

“Oh my!” Airachnid yelped after a few uneasy moments had passed, “I am so very sorry, Orion. In my rush, I’ve ruined your beautiful tablet.”

The shorter mecha reached down to pick up the tablet in a rough grip, relieved to see there weren't any stray shards to complicate the mess further. She studied the cracks in the screen before offering the tablet back with an apologetic look.

“I can try to source you another tablet, perhaps one that’s more durable?” she offered.

Orion wordlessly held the tablet, not daring to put any pressure on the sides and merely allowing the device to rest atop his digits.

“No, it’s- it’s…” Orion struggled to answer, “I shouldn’t have gotten ahead of myself. I can ask you questions another time.”

“Please do,” Airachnid assured as she stepped away, “and please accept my sincerest apologies for my mishap. I’ll make sure to make it up to you. Until next time.”

Airachnid did not wait for Orion to respond, not that she truly expected a response. The ex-Autobot leader simply stood in the hallway, sheltering the splintered tablet in his servos as if it were an injured friend. She couldn’t help but roll her optics.

After turning a few corners, Airachnid congratulated herself on the performance. Sentimental bots always proved to be a detriment to themselves, and there would always be bots like her to capitalize on their weaknesses.

And the best part? From a certain perspective, her testimony had been truthful. No one could dispute Megatron’s history, and it was only a matter of time before Orion learned all of Megatron’s truths for himself. Was speeding up the inevitable timeline of events really so devious?

- - -

An impenetrable cloud of dark thoughts confounded Orion’s processor. Earlier that solar-cycle he had shared a wonderful exchange with his dear friend. Now, it felt as though he might as well have exchanged words with a figment of his memory’s creation.

Orion continued to hold the shattered tablet close with empty optics. He wanted so desperately to believe Airachnid had simply lied to get a reaction from him, however he could not dismiss how well her retelling of events aligned with what he already knew. He could always refer to the database of wartime records in search of answers, but the thought did not ease his aching spark.

The direction of Orion’s thoughts ashamed him as if he were somehow the guilty one carrying the burden of past crimes committed against his fellow Decepticons. He did not want to believe Megatron capable of such behavior, and considering AIrachnid’s testimony felt like a betrayal within itself.

Perhaps Megatron has been trying to change since then, or stresses from the war brought out the worst within him? Yet, Orion could not place much stock in the ideas his processor conjured. He was ignoring the logical conclusion to this new information and instead hoping there was some unaccounted factor that would absolve his friend.

Yes, surely there could be something he was missing? Some rationale he was not seeing that someone he trusted could show him.

Before leaving his frozen place in the halls, Orion opened his subspace, and with the utmost care placed the damaged tablet inside. He frowned deeper, withholding a mournful ex-vent that was forming in his chest.

Once finished, the red and blue mech made his way to the med bay. If Breakdown was awake, he would be spending his free time with Knockout who was still scheduled to be working. The corridor details blurred as Orion walked, his processor unwilling to set aside the current moral dilemma. Once in front of the medical bay, he did not stop to knock or announce his presence and simply walked inside.

Breakdown was nowhere to be found, but Knockout was situated at a mobile workbench and bent over a welding project of some sort. Orion stepped closer and noticed Knockout was completely absorbed in fashioning a new optic patch, no doubt for a certain assistant of his.

Sensing the heavy pede falls and nearby field, the medical officer called out without looking up, “Welcome back. I didn't think you would be up and about until later. I do hope you remembered that tonight we have a drive-in-”

Upon turning, Knockout nearly jumped out of his seat. “Uh-h, Orion!?"

In his surprise the red medic fumbled his tools and nearly tripped over the stool he had been sitting on. Gripping his tools forcefully, Knockout attempted to hide his embarrassment with an accusatory digit point at Orion’s chest. “Do yourself a favor and announce yourself next time, alright? You’re fortunate nothing broke!”

“I apologize for entering unannounced,” Orion explained bashfully, suddenly aware of how impolite and startling his entrance was, “I simply require a second opinion, of sorts.”

Knockout stared back at Orion and answered with a classic "what," that sounded more like a confused statement than a question. The red medic studied Orion with a quizzical look before grimacing slightly. He readjusted himself back onto his stool and gestured towards the nearby medical berth.

“I’m not that kind of physician, but you are welcome to park yourself there and clarify your question,” the flashy medic directed as he focused back on the project at hand.

“Thank you,” Orion proceeded to sit on the flat medical berth that was stationed a bit low to the floor for his size. Once settled, he took a moment to study his digits before beginning.

“I wanted to know your thoughts on Commander Airachnid,” Orion admitted.

Knockout briefly paused his work and glanced up at Orion before turning back to his project, “On her paint job or something else?”

“Specifically your evaluation of her as a trustworthy ally.”

“Huh, what a peculiar question,” the red medic remarked, “She has a prickly personality, but as long as she minds her own business I take no issue with her.”

Orion locked his digits together as he contemplated how to proceed with more specific questions, however Knockout picked up the subject without any prompting.

“Breakdown believes there’s more to her than we give her credit for, but I don’t care to theorize. I personally wouldn’t want to get wrapped up in whatever schemes she may harbor.”

“Schemes?” Orion echoed, “what do you mean by that?”

“Oh, right you wouldn’t have known about that,” Knockout’s realization lifted his optics from his personal project and back on Orion. “Let’s just say while you and Lord Megatron were in the Earth’s core, we were having an attempted coup up here led by Airachnid.”

Orion cycled in optics in surprise while Knockout continued, “With our leader’s extended absence, Airachnid thought it best to deem our excursion to Earth a failure and assume leadership. She cited Soundwave’s inability to reach Lord Megatron as reason enough to consider alternative measures.”

Knockout eagerly recited the event with theatrical flare, and Orion was admittedly becoming increasingly engrossed. “What happened after that?”

“I asked her to clarify if she was suggesting we abandon Lord Megatron,” the red medic explained, “she then insisted that Megatron was either offline or unable to escape the servants of Unicron, so it would be in our best interest to follow her lead and move on.”

“But that could not have gotten far,” Orion reasoned, “Did anyone else object?”

“Oh, I can assure you Soundwave did more than just object,” Knockout grinned. “He stood between her and the primary controls until she had enough of his interference and attacked him. Though it didn’t last long, Soundwave had her yielding before you could finish reciting the old Decepticon oath.”

“I suppose I should not be surprised,” Orion murmured, “Soundwave’s loyalty is not to be underestimated. He is Megatron’s oldest confidant.”

Knockout nodded, “I would avoid getting on Soundwave’s bad side. He was a way of enforcing Megatron’s will around here, even when our esteemed leader isn’t present.”

The red medic smirked and returned to his work, while Orion gathered the courage to ask the real question that weighed him down.

“Knockout, do you recall the last conversation we shared with Breakdown just before I started on Project: Iacon?”

“Yes,” Knockout said, his brows furrowing a bit. “What about it?”

“Breakdown mentioned that I knew a much less jaded version of Megatron that none of you were familiar with,” Orion looked up to hold Knockout’s gaze. “And you said that bots change, and there’s nothing we can do when that happens.”

Knockout leaned back from the workbench in an uneasy manner. “I remember that. Did you find our input to be so inaccurate that it's been bothering you this whole time?” Knockout pressed as he gestured with his tool.

“No,” Orion shook his helm gravely. “I am troubled by how accurate you both were, and how quickly I dismissed your words.”

Knockout’s optics cycled with understanding as his frame visually relaxed and he ex-vented loudly. “Alright, what happened? No, let me guess: Airachnid said something to you.”

“Yes she did. But I fear there were no lies in her warning,” Orion leaned forward. “When Starscream entered my workstation he told me that Megatron would terminate him as punishment for trespassing and deserting. I cannot stress how frightened he was. And now Airachnid tells me that Megatron had a history of punishing Starscream with excessive force.”

Knockout could only lower his gaze and frown as he struggled to find the right words.

“So she was being truthful,” Orion concluded as he measured Knockout’s lack of a response. To which Knockout rubbed the chin of his face plate thoughtfully as if weighing the importance of his next statements.

“Look Orion,” the red medic began, “while we may have been right about some things, there may be some truth to your perspective as well. Maybe Megatron was affected by your absence in ways we don’t know. Maybe it’s too early to start making judgements-”

“But excessively harming an ally?” Orion interrupted. “Repeatedly? This sounds like a trend, not a random outburst.”

“I am not defending the behavior,” Knockout added quickly, “and look on the bright side, it sounds like he hasn’t done it since? None of us really know what’s going on in that shiny helm of his, maybe he is trying to dial back the anger. It sure seems to be the case lately,” he added hastily.

Orion could only stare at the shorter medic, confounded by the manner at which he danced around the topic as if avoiding invisible pitfalls. Sensing Orion’s confusion, Knockout took a moment to vent deeply and stand up from his work bench.

“Alright, hurting your fellow associates and taking your anger out on others is never a good thing. We can agree on that,” Knockout crossed his servos as he shifted his weight to his left limb. “But I’m sure you’ve also picked up on the fact that we aren’t exactly the paragon of benevolence and good will. You could argue that hard times create hardened bots. But to you, that probably sounds more like an excuse than a reason to act with cruelty.”

Orion processed Knockout’s words and frowned, “It does sound like an excuse. Doesn’t that bother you?”

An uncomfortable silence followed as Knockout’s optics cycled, “What?”

The red and blue mech stood up and stared down at the shorter mech, “Doesn’t it bother you that anyone, including you, could be treated with such disregard despite being allies? What other questionable actions might Megatron have committed?”

“We’re more like associates than allies or comrades,” Knockout corrected firmly, “I wouldn’t expect anyone except Breakdown to save my hide if I was in a tough spot, because that’s just how it’s always been here.”

“With the Decepticons?” Orion asked.

Knockout scoffed and looked away, “With Megatron.”

Neither bot dared look at the other. In the stillness, Knockout realized that his earnest response could only have amplified Orion’s concerns and suspicions. He internally reprimanded himself for being so careless and turned back to Orion to find a deep sadness had overcast the mech’s expression.

A thousand uneasy thoughts flashed behind Orion’s blue optics while Knockout released his crossed servos in defeat.

“Listen,” he said as if apologizing, “I don’t know what to say to make this whole situation less upsetting, and I don’t think I have an answer for this moral predicament.”

He took a step forward and looked up at Orion with his ruby red optics. “I can’t smooth over the rust with a shiny coat, and choices were made that can’t simply be buffed out. I suppose all I assure you with is that you won’t get that dismissive treatment from us- Breakdown and me, I mean. Though, I can’t speak for anyone else who will be looking out for themselves.”

Orion studied Knockout’s field, and with a heavy spark, lifted his servo towards Knockout who’s innate fears caused him to flinch and braced himself. Instead of a heavy strike or emotionally driven stranglehold, Orion simply laid his servo on the Knockout’s curved shoulder plating.

“Thank you, Knockout,” Orion whispered.

Knockout’s optics followed the servo until he was staring back at an expectant Orion. His frame relaxed, and a hesitant smile formed on the medic’s face plate. “You’re welcome.”

“However, kindly watch the finish.” The red mech reset his vocalizer and gently tapped Orion’s servo, to which Orion immediately retracted his servo as a private comm’s message appeared in his personal channel.

.:Maybe it would be best to ask the bot in question for answers sometime. But you didn’t hear that from me:.

Orion read the message twice before faintly nodding and sending a response of his own. He resisted a chuckle as a bit of sportive energy returned to his field.

.:If you continue to insist upon remaining anonymous, I will eventually have to pretend you are a stranger to me:.

Orion watched Knockout’s red optics cycle in understanding and smirk.

“Well, it has been lovely to catch up,” the flashy mech finally announced as if broadcasting to an invisible audience. “However, I do have to prepare the med bay for an important examination. If Breakdown and I hope to depart on time for our external recon later then I’ll need everything to remain on schedule.”

Knockout gestured towards the exit and gave Orion an apologetic look before picking up the stool and pushing the mobile workbench towards the storage room.

“I understand, I don’t mean to keep you from your duties,” Orion shrugged and began making his way towards the exit, “I appreciate your time, Knockout.”

“Don’t mention it,” the red medic waved as he gathered up his tools in his other servo and shot Orion a knowing look, “I’ll let Breakdown know you missed him.”

Orion nodded in acknowledgement and exited the med bay. The newly found glow of warmth fizzled back into cold uncertainty as he was reunited with the sight of the chilling corridors. The doors wheezed shut behind him and Orion was once again left as a lonely island amidst a sea of uncertainties. He walked with no destination in mind, steering clear of the command deck and the hab-suite block as he roamed.

- - -

Orion wandered the halls until he finally arrived at the second lowest floor and took the most direct route to the maintenance hatch that was surrounded by circular windows. His empty pede falls were infused with a bit more purpose as his longing for the stars grew. He needed to think, and the stars had always been a comforting presence in his time.

Finally, Orion had rounded the final corner and was relieved to find this corridor just as empty as the last few he had passed though. The circular windows revealed that the Nemesis was still in orbit as the stars glimmered reassuringly in the distance. Orion approached one of the centermost windows and bent down to gaze out into the great beyond. To his consolation, there did not appear to be any Eradicons or Vehicons performing exterior maintenance.

The ex-Autobot leader lifted his gaze beyond the exterior of the Nemesis and towards the incomplete darkness beyond. The stars were splattered across the dark void in cold, blurred speckles. It was appreciated, but Orion could not convince his struts to relax completely. Perhaps it was his state of mind, but the sight felt insufficient.

Orion gazed out for half a bream before turning back to the Nemesis interior, his optics identifying the seams of the partially hidden maintenance hatch. It took only a few clicks for him to identify the manual locking mechanism Black Nickel had previously utilized when returning from external maintenance a few solar-cycles past.

An irresistible thought struck Orion’s processor as he recalled the spinning motion Black Nickel had deployed to lock the hatch, and wondered if simply reversing the motions would allow the hatch to open. He stepped closer to face the hatch and laid a gentle servo onto the cold panel located just off-center of the hatch. He held his servo on the inconspicuous panel for a moment, relieved there was no alarm or warning signal to alert anyone of his presence. With confidence building, he gripped the panel and turned it in a counter-clockwise motion. A small click could be heard as Orion finished the arcing motion, and with a push the hatch opened to the great space beyond.

The red and blue mech stood reeling as the hatch remained opened, and still no alarm was triggered. After Orion gathered his confidence and he set out onto the ship’s exterior he felt a wave of static flow through him as his first pede made contact. He tested the Nemesis’ artificial gravity for a few moments before finally finding the field stable enough to exit the ship entirely. After a few wary steps, Orion dared lift his line of sight up to the stars.

This time, the stars shone like diamonds and greeted Orion by the dozens. Unhindered by the layers of reinforced glass, Orion felt swarmed by their sheer numbers. It has been some time! Welcome back. Have you come to share any news?

Standing outside the Nemesis for the first time felt electrifying. There was a whole new dimension to consider, and Orion’s processor hummed with strain as his optics absorbed the enormity of the dark fabric of space. No longer was his world bound by the Nemesis halls or automatic exits and entrances, now the vastness of space swept him up in an invisible embrace.

This is better, he mused. An even better view than the one from my station in the Archives.

Orion took in the scenery once more before choosing to sit with his knees bent to allow his elbows to rest on them as he leaned forward. How juvenile he must look from an onlooker’s perspective, he thought. Yet, he felt no need to present himself maturely while in the presence of the stars. They would hold his secrets close, as they always had. And now, more than ever, he required their audience.

Megatron may not be the mech I once knew. I blamed myself for his reluctance to rekindle our bond, when perhaps he was harboring deeper reasons to keep me at servo’s length.

Orion frowned as he held his knees tighter.

He must know that I would take issue with his past actions, and keeping me at distance would inevitably keep me in the dark for longer.

His cyan optics fell as his metal brows eased.

But still, we’ve made great progress. There was no fabrication in Megatron’s laughter today. I would like to believe that I have known him long enough to tell if he were lying.

The thought brought new problems to consider. Did he know this Megatron well enough to know he was being sincere? Had he been naive to assume Megatron and himself still wanted the same things for their fellow Cybertronians after all this time?

The pressure in Orion’s chest continued to develop until it felt as if his spark were being constrained by stasis bands.

I could keep this to myself and continue as if nothing happened. It would be as if Airachnid had never approached me.

No, he would be no different by living a lie of omission. The information would hover over him like a ticking time bomb and only fester resentment. He would have to find a time to confront Megatron, and soon.

Orion absently stared down at his dark palms and at the empty spaces between each digit. Slowly, he intertwined both sets of his digits together to fill the empty spaces.

If we had more time prior to the war would things have turned out differently? If I hadn’t served as a go between for Megatron and the High Council then maybe the Council would have found someone else to appoint as Prime.

But what would he do differently if he was given the chance? Maybe visit Kaon more often, or invite Megatron to Iacon for once. The messages and video calls had sufficed for time, but perhaps he could have done more. While method had been a point of contention, their shared purpose had always served as the core to their connection.

Alpha Trion had warned that Megatron’s methods could undermine our message, and I foolishly assured him I would act as a check on those methods.

Orion closed his optics and silently bemoaned his position within this whole mess of a situation. He had no intention to leave Megatron’s side when he made such a declaration, let alone that circumstances out of his control would forcibly separate them.

But he is a sharp mech in his own right, I shouldn’t have to act as a moral compass for him. My absence alone cannot be blamed for his shortcomings.

He lowered his helm onto his intertwined digits and attempted to ignore the thrumming in his helm. It was all pointless conjecture until he heard Megatron’s side of the story. As he closed his optics, the fractured tablet within his subspace somehow felt even heavier. He would take some time for himself to find the right words to confront his old friend.

- - -

The familiar medical bay walls coldly echoed the sounds of medical equipment and tapping metal back at Knockout and his current patient, Megatron. The Decepticon leader laid outstretched on a medical berth while hooked up to a diagnostic machine Knockout currently occupied. Megatron chose to ignore the sounds of Knockout’s tapping in favor of the consistent hum of distant ventilators. He was so focused on the resonance that he didn’t notice the red mech had begun removing the diagnostic wires from his frame until Knockout hummed in approval.

The red medic’s digits felt like icicles on Megatron’s servo, sharp and cold as they removed the last of the wires. The silver mech had to resist the urge to unconsciously wince.

“I had hoped your injury would look better by now. Nothing to be done except increase your enriched energon allocation and strongly suggest you rest at every opportunity,” the red medic stated flatly as if he were repeating himself from an earlier warning.

“Now onto the real reason you’re here,” Knockout pulled out two identical data pads and handed one to Megatron, who accepted the pad without much thought. Upon activating the datapad, Megatron was greeted with an extensive medical report that denoted areas of importance around his spark chamber, optics, and struts. He did not particularly appreciate the visual of his skeletal frame and vital components completely bare for the optic’s beholding.

“I’m certain you are eager to explain to me what all this means?” Megatron prompted in exasperation.

Knockout looked up from his own datapad, “I’m just trying to give you all the time you need before getting into the details.”

Megatron growled softly, “Get on with it.”

“If you insist,” Knockout shrugged faintly before resetting his vocalizer and dawning a professional cadence.

“The results from all the tests indicate that not all of the dark energon has been purged from your systems,” Knockout tapped his datapad screen which in turn highlighted areas of interest on Megatron’s datapad. “Based on what has been recorded since your return, I have reason to believe the dark energon that has coagulated near your processor and gut region will dissipate with time and refueling. However you must exclusively refuel with pure grade energon until then.”

Megatron continued to stare at the datapad with unblinking optics, “How long will this take?”

“It’s hard to say, but my projections look to be anywhere from two deca-cycles to one stellar-cycle.”

Tsk, it could be worse. Megatron grimaced, “Is there any way to speed up this timeline?”

“If you rest, stick to pure grade energon, and stay away from the dark stuff then there’s a chance. But I’m afraid that’s not the main concern here,” Knockout tapped his device once again to highlight the area around Megatron’s spark chamber.

The silver mech pulled his field closer as his processor picked out the terms, ‘dangerously high levels’ and ‘risk of spark pulse interference’ amongst the medical jargon.

“The dark energon residue around your spark chamber is unlike any infection or virus I have ever seen,” the red medic said carefully. “Unlike the other areas, the dark energon near your spark chamber is persistent. It shows no indication of eventually giving way to pure energon, or possibly ever leaving your systems.”

Knockout paused to give Megatron a chance to ask a question, however the silver mech had none, so the medic pressed on.

“It is very likely you will be carrying this residual dark energon in your chest for the rest of your functioning lifetime.”

Megatron bit back an angry remark questioning Knockout’s medical capabilities and instead refocused his temper. “And what of these helm aches and dark visions?”

“An excellent question. Those symptoms should remain dormant as long as you attend your routine examinations and undergo corrective treatment when required.”

“What?” Megatron ripped his gaze away from the datapad to scowl at the red mech, “You mean to tell me I must undergo that infernal procedure again, ‘when required?’”

Knockout flinched at the demand before his optics narrowed defensively, “That treatment is the only thing that has kept your spark safe from the dark energon build up. On top of these aches and recharge terrors, I don’t think you want to find out what happens when your spark is consumed by dark energon as well.”

Megatron scoffed and looked back down at the datapad in servo. His anger slowly melted until his frame became as still as stone.

“You’re saying I don’t have a choice.”

“This is your health, Lord Megatron,” Knockout countered. “Most mechs know the limits of their own frames. I’m afraid it’s about time you started acknowledging your limitations and start taking care of yours.”

Megatron could only grumble, unwilling to engage down this line of conversation further. “Anything else you wish to burden me with?”

“There is one other thing,” the medic ignored his leader’s remark. “After that excursion with Unicron, you cannot afford to deny yourself fuel. If your energon levels dip below 25% the remaining energon within your systems is likely to become contaminated with dark energon. Or perhaps ‘converted’ is the more appropriate term here.”

Knockout gave Megatron a pointed look, “From there we don’t know what could happen. It could cause irreversible damage to your vital components and intensify your symptoms, we really don’t really know. And I think you would agree that we shouldn’t have to find out.”

The Decepticon leader bared his dantae in a scowl and turned back to the datapad once again. Amidst the disturbing imagery of his internal systems and the warnings, he saw his reflection in the data pad’s screen. His burning red optics shone back at him in judgment, and as the moments passed his gaze hardened. It was not so long ago that his optics glowed the poisonous purple of Chaos Bringer’s blood. The echo of Unicorn’s control made his frame shiver and his will falter for only a moment.

Anything would be better than returning to those defenseless moments. As much as Megatron wished to disregard Knockout’s warnings, he feared the consequences even more than the offense on his pride. Nonetheless, the realization did nothing to comfort him, instead the acknowledgement only stung his gladiator dignity deeper.

“Noted,” was all Megatron could mumble in response.

“Good,” Knockout huffed, “now give me that datapad and extend your energon channel for me.”

“What for?” Megatron snapped as he handed the datapad to the red mech.

“For an enriched energon infusion. I doubt you will take the time to do so before you recharge, so I’m trying to do you a favor,” the medical officer explained nonchalantly as he returned the datapads to their proper place and pulled out a small energon dispenser.

“How thoughtful of you,” the silver mech retorted as he extended the energon channel in his right servo.

“You know, I really do try,” Knockout responded breezily as he connected the energon feed to the Megatron’s channel with ease. “And before you ask, your condition will be kept hidden with the utmost secrecy. Consider it a doctor’s confidentiality.”

“I should hope so,” Megatron grunted, hoping to suppress the tiny sense of relief that washed over him.

Once the energon feed was secured and operating properly, Knockout stepped back to his diagnostic console and sighed. “Maybe I should ask Orion to help ensure you’re taking care of yourself,” he mused.

“What was that?” the silver warlord snarled, having heard the red mech perfectly well the first time.

“Oh nothing, just that Orion Pax might be able to help you practice healthy habits,” Knockout turned his helm to partially face Megatron, “he strikes me as the worrying type is all.”

Megatron narrowed his optics and spoke in a measured tone, “Orion has more pressing matters to attend to that require his concern.”

“Perhaps you should give him more credit,” he suggested as he continued to enter information into the console.

The silver mech did care to respond. With the news of his long term health challenges still weighing heavily on his processor, he did not have the bandwidth to consider the covert meaning in Knockout’s proposition.

- - -

He did, however, find himself unable to recharge later that night as he replayed the conversation in his helm with great frequency. Knockout’s final statement yielded an open-ended connotation that Megatron would have to have been witless to not notice.

Give Orion more credit in what way? Megatron now wished he had prodded further in the moment. More credit as an asset to the cause? As a decoding specialist? As a confidant?

Megatron growled as he opened his red optics. The mech spends a few solar-cycles with Orion and now acts as if he understands him on a personal level. He knows nothing.

Yet, uncertainties continued to nip at the edges of his consciousness whenever he tried to empty his mind. It was getting easier to spend time with Orion, but their discussions did not amount to much besides commenting on current events and exchanging witticisms. Even if he greatly enjoyed those casual conversations, they were not exactly covering new ground for the future.

Then of course, there was the recording Soundwave had played for him. Orion may have warmed up to the Decepticons, but his doubts were far from tempered. He had entertained an intervention, but perhaps an open dialogue in private would be more effective. All the same, it would require an honest attempt at reflection from within himself.

As if he were a glutton for punishment, Megatron found himself once again staring at the same spot on the ceiling which reminded him of his two previous attempts to relive key memories from his shared past with Orion. Both instances had resulted in a combination of frustration and remorse, as if he were unsuccessfully chipping away at a caved-in passageway and leaving with dents as his only reward.

I can no longer afford to try and fail while postponing the inevitable, the silver leader ascertained after he allowed the feelings of disappointment to pass through him. These ancient feelings and events will not be my undoing.

Megatron collected his assurances and stilled his agitation as he closed his crimson optics. He reached into the depths of his data banks and took the now routine journey to his suppressed mementoes. As he closed in on the files containing the most painful recollections, he wavered.

His lines began to prickle with unease and static began to build in his audials. The memory file in question was located, but loomed eerily in his mind’s optic. His fists began to clench as his dread took the form of a shadowed beast that obstructed his access to the memory file. The monster’s silhouette was constantly changing, and its presence alone mocked Megatron’s wavering resolution.

Perhaps this was why Megatron had never bothered to return to this memory, specifically. And why the monster had never confronted him directly. It existed alongside the memory, and had only grown more dangerous while left unchallenged.

Fortunately, Megatron’s gladiatorial instincts prevailed as he determined that the beast was no longer welcome to roam within the confines of his psyche. With a powerful swipe he struck the beast, only for the dark terror’s form to dissipate and reform with a hiss that nearly sounded like a warning.

You don’t want this.

Megatron flinched for only a moment before striking again, this time the beast coiled around his mind’s servo and uttered a sound that registered as a whisper and echo at the same time.

You don’t want to make the same mistake twice.

The silver clad mech flailed in an attempt to shake off the assailant, only resulting in the demon slithering farther up Megatron’s metaphorical neck and constricted his cables. He felt his intake contract as the assailant’s disembodied snarl rang in his audials.

It doesn’t matter what you think now. He chose his side, and it wasn’t yours.

For a split click, Megatron staggered feeling as though his very spark had fallen out of its chamber. Cold emptiness began to spread forth from his spark chamber like a plague. However, the creature’s warnings did not ring entirely true. Megatron searched desperately for a rebuttal, but instead found the warm sincerity of Orion’s field flash through his frame. He traced the sensation and found a promise of possibilities at the end of the thread, bright and undiscovered.

Whether it was Orion’s optimistic delusions rubbing off on him or a desperate desire to change the course of their lives, Megatron seized the feeling and allowed his warrior’s spirit light itself ablaze. The electric charge of ambition cast the monster from frame with a shriek.

You don’t want this!

With purpose, Megatron reached for the beast with both servos and stared into its undefined form. It was nightmarishly dark like the night, and weighed like a thousand unnamed regrets. It was agonizing, and took every bit of restraint to not look away.

“I don’t want this. But I need this second chance more than I dread this memory.”

With the grip of a Titan, Megatron mashed the monstrous guardian with an iron clench of his clawed servos. The beast fragmented and shattered in an explosion of azure light. Its shards dissolved into a stream of energy that infused Megaton with a long forgotten sensation. The feeling was so spark seizing that he nearly wailed.

Finally, the memory began to take shape.

Location: City of Kalis, temporary hab-suite.
Date: 0084.52.2010 Age: Rust
Context: Enroute to Iacon, rest stop.
Room occupants: None others.

Chapter Text

It was a dreadfully early morning in the northern city of Kalis and Megatron was pacing in the center of a temporary hab-suit he had booked from a local lodge. His closest allies had joined him on the long drive from Koan to Iacon for the most important event of their lives.

He expected the others would be waking from recharge soon, and so he took the opportunity to mentally fortify himself for the journey ahead. However, his processor continued to wander to the item that lay on the small table next to his berth.

Eventually, Megatron gave into his inclinations and proceeded to pick up the flat item with care. It was an usually large note taking tablet with a unique addition of a stylus. Despite the engineer’s insistence that most high class mecha preferred typing to writing, Megatron’s mind would not be swayed. The tablet would be polished with a custom color scheme, designed to be larger than the average tablet size, include a stylus attachment, and would be top of the line. The cost was irrelevant, what mattered was that his specifications would be honored.

Megatron held the precious gift with utmost care, making sure his sharp digits did not scratch any section of the device. He smiled. It turned out exactly as he had envisioned.

Teal edges to match his unclouded optics, and rose gold framing reminiscent of his charming red plating.

Pride swelled within his chest as he shifted the tablet to catch the artificial light inside the temporary quarters. Even in the low light, the colors shimmered in a pleasing manner. It was not ostentatious, but refined enough to stand out as a fine work of craftsmanship.

If everything went according to plan, it would be perfect. Megatron had spent countless solar-cycles reviewing his plans, questioning them, turning them over and over in his processor as if it were his only protocol. Everything he had worked for had amounted to this day and the next few cycles that lay ahead of him.

Today was the day he and Orion would speak to the High Council and, effectively, all of Cybertron.

However, it was Orion he had to thank for making such an arrangement possible. Megatron had congratulated and praised him for calling upon his connections and recalled how Orion simply nodded and smiled humbly. Since their first meeting, Orion had become an invaluable asset in reaching his goals, and someone he considered closer than a brother. He had much to thank Orion for, and today he would make all of his gratefulness known.

Once he presented his terms to the High Council, Megatronus hoped to be given a properly recognized position of power (preferably Primehood) to carry out his dreams of a new world order. Once confirmed, he would thank Orion with the tablet. With his newfound power, he would offer Orion a new opportunity; to serve beside him as a proper co-leader of their shared cause. He would be his equal, an advisor, and a key speaker on implementing change after destroying the plague of their current functionalist regime.

He delicately placed the tablet within a protective sleeve and inside an unassuming dark, flat box.

The tablet would serve as a physical manifestation of that promise. Yes, he was certain Orion would not only appreciate the gift, but also get plenty of functional use out of it. It would be the first of many gifts to come, but the first to mark their new and well-earned beginning as partners to a most worthy cause.

But there were also plenty of things that could go wrong. An assassination attempt was at the top of Megatron’s list of potential obstacles, as the esteemed Sentinel Prime had sent many in his time as a gladiator. However, he trusted that Soundwave’s surveillance methods would be utilized to their fullest, and he had yet to be felled by any daring bot. However, he did worry for Orion. Just as Soundwave would be looking out for his safety, he would need to look out for Orion’s.

Megatron left his temporary hab-suit with the box in servo and headed towards the lodge’s entrance. Shockwave, Soundwave, and the mini-cons awaited Megatron. The two expressionless mecha droned in conversation while Ravage growled at her fellow mini-cons as if scolding them to behave. Laserbeak sat at attention on Soundwave’s shoulder and chirped at fellow mini-cons as Megatron stepped closer.

“Greetings, Megatron,” Shockwave addressed the ex-gladiator in his typical toneless manner. “I trust you will be departing for Orion’s location soon.”

“In a moment. I am eager to begin today’s events, but I wish to make one last expectation clear,” Megatron studied each mini-con in front of him before turning back to Shockwave and Soundwave.

“If anything happens to myself, you two are to lead our operation in my stead. And, you must give this to Orion on my behalf,” the silver mech presented the unassuming flat box to the two mechs.

Shockwave simply stared at the box, while Soundwave extended his tentacles to accept the item curiously. Megatron continued, “He is to consider it as thanks for arranging this hearing, and for his unwavering support. If all goes according to plan, then I will be presenting the gift myself to our dear archivist.”

And may he accept my offer to serve beside me, Megatron added to himself.

Soundwave turned the box over in his tentacled twice before sliding it into his subspace storage before Rumble and Frenzy could ask to get a better look. Shockwave merely stood eerily still, his finials twitching slightly.

“Understood,” was all Soundwave said as he finished storing the box in his subspace.

“Excellent,” Megatron walked past the group and faced Cybertron’s rising sun. It had yet to fully rise and illuminate the sky to wake the prosperous cities of Kalis and Iacon to a new dawn.

Megatron’s spark swelled with confidence as he gazed northward towards Iacon- where Orion and the High Council awaited him. He knew his confrontational nature may not be appreciated by most, but he was unwavering in his stance. No one else was willing to tread the path he walked, perhaps not even Orion Pax.

Megatron tempered his spark pulse and signaled to the others behind him.

“Then I’ll be on my way to seize our future.”

- - -

The chamber that housed the High Council was brilliantly constructed to allow natural light to pass through the towering windows and bounce throughout the entire chamber, creating a divine atmosphere for all in attendance. The gallery for audience seating was made up of a series of balconies that rose vertically and away from the central podium. Just beyond the central area sat a curved row of podiums for the thirteen Council members. The chamber was round with intricate embellishments on the walls that expanded outward from the Council members’ dais. If one were to take the entirety of the room into view, it would remind them of an idealized spark.

A bit of a dramatic gesture, in Megatron’s view, to suggest the High Council were the living and beating spark of Cybertronian society.

Currently, the balconies were filled to the brim with bots of all builds, castes, and guilds who eagerly awaited what would be a defining event in Cybertron’s history. Anyone not present would no doubt be watching or listening from the Grid Network. Even the thirteen Council members appeared to be stiff with anticipation, their rigid movements and darting optics betraying their uncertainty.

Megatron currently stood in the shadows of the entry hallway under the lowest balcony. The gladiator chose not to wait on the central floor against the walls, instead he would make himself known only when called. Orion had warned him against grand entrances, but he felt a burning desire to keep the council at a distance. They would see him only when necessary and no sooner.

From his concealed position, Megatron could see Orion leaning against the wall on the central floor. The red and blue mech was doing his best to appear aloof and professional, but Megatron noticed the way his friend’s optics periodically scanned his surroundings every few moments with the occasional twitch of his finials. Orion was doing his best to conceal his anxieties.

In time, the moderator for the hearing, Halogen, stood and a hush fell over the gallery.

“We are here to take up a question of the gravest consequence,” the ancient Cybertronian announced, “for it is a question that has brought our society from peace to the edge of civil war in very few mega-cycles.”

Megatron adjusted his posture and internally prepared himself from the dark hallway. Halogen continued to speak of the violence tragedies that have been taking place across Cybertron with accompanying video footage. He then acknowledged the absence of Sentinel Prime, and demanded that his captures, who were no doubt listening, renounce their lawless ways and submit themselves to the merits of justice. Halogen concluded by acknowledging the rumors and accusations that blamed Megatron and his co-conspirators for all of the previously stated offenses, and that all of these issues would be addressed here and now.

“Introductions are wearisome,” Halogen said in a stern voice, “let us hear from the citizens.”

Megatron twinged with anticipation, the test would commence shortly.

Halogen continued from the innermost chamber, “The High Council, under penalty of confinement and further justice, commands the Cybertonian of Kaon known as Megatron to present himself.”

Restlessness and whispers of confusion spread throughout the chamber as everyone looked around to try and find where Megatron might be sitting or standing. Megatron smiled to himself just before he gathered his bearings and strode forward. He marched down the center aisle with the refinement of royalty. His optics only wavered from the path ahead of him to glance at Orion who stood on his right. He resisted the desire to give his friend a reassuring smile, and instead refocused himself on the center of the floor.

Megatron carefully stepped up to the witness podium and spoke, “I am here at the request of the High Council.”

The Councilors and Halogen were apparently in no rush to begin, as they took a few moments to absorb every visual detail of Megatron’s frame before continuing. Their optics were skeptical and full of derision as Contrail, a seeker and the Council secretary, spoke. “Are you the Koanian industrial worker and so-called gladiatorial champion who has assumed the moniker of Megatron?”

“I am,” Megatron responded evenly, ignoring Halogen’s discourteous phrasing.

“By what authority do you claim this name?”

Ah, what a cunning angle. “My own and no other,” the silver mech answered in an equally steady manner.

Despite his intention, his answer was taken as a presumptuous declaration as mixed reactions rippled throughout the audience. Halogen beat his gavel for silence and order before Contrail could ask another question, this time allowing his displeasure to color his tone.

“Are you not aware that names are presented only at the Well of Allsparks, nowhere else?”

“I am aware of the tradition,” Megatron asserted, “However, I do not recognize it as the only possibility.”

More indignant cries sprang from the audience, but were silenced by Councilor Ratbat. “Surely, the Council has more interesting questions to address than to observe naming protocols.”

“And just as surely,” Halogen interjected, “the protocols of this Council should be observed.”

Senator Contrail waited for Ratbat to nod in agreement before asking another question. His amber optics narrowed on Megatron as he spoke, “Your testimony before the Council is commanded to be truthful and complete.”

“And so it shall be. Although I fear the complete truths I have to offer may not please the members of the High Council who demand complete deference rather than the interchange of equals,” Megatron answered.

As if on cue, the audience once again began to rumble with a variety of reactions. Halogen’s gavel came down once again to silence the gallery, and continue with the testimonies. Contrail gave Halogen a nod, to which Halogen gazed expectantly at Megatron as a silent sign to begin.

Megatron’s spark felt as if it were to burst from its chamber. Nervousness had long since left his frame and all that was left was eager expectancy. Like second nature, he began his testimony.

“In the beginning, I had no name,” Megatron projected to the whole chamber, waiting a moment to allow his words to sink into every processor present and listening.

“None of us did. Down in the mines and smelters, we spoke to each other by electronic signature. We indicated each other by function and assigned each other nicknames. I was D-16, named for the section of the mine where I conducted demolition operations. In time, I witnessed my first gladiatorial match in the pits of Kaon. That is where I first learned how life was for the lower caste that none of you ever take a nano click to consider. ”

Megatron paused to extend his servo backwards towards a higher balcony where a row of industrial bots sat in observation, “Each Cybertonian in that balcony has seen more Cybertonians die themself than the total of you in the rest of the gallery. Our lives are worthless!”

“Until,” the silver mech immediately continued in a steadier voice just before Halogen could tap his gavel, “we decided we had worth. We, the lower castes. We, the mecha who die in the subsurface mills and factories creating all of the things you up here take for granted. We learned we were individuals by facing off against each other in the pits of Slaughter City and Kaon. How did we know we were individuals?”

His question was met with stillness as the gallery listened and awaited his answer.

“We knew we were individuals because when we killed our opponents in the ring, we saw in their death the realization that they were individuals. And so, we knew we were too. In killing, we understood life. In being the most disposable of commodities - a gladiator, whose remains were thrown into the junkpile to be scavenged, the healthy pieces sold off to brokers in Iacon and Crystal City - in being disposable, we discovered that we had value. Someone would pay us for what we did. Someone would cheer when we killed, and roar in anger when we died.”

Megatron meaningfully raised his right servo and pointed it at his chest where his spark would be, “So if our lives had worth, even to others just as worthless as we were, then we had the right to names. And that is how the sequence of events started that led to me being here before you today.”

“My friend, Orion Pax,” Megatron passed the red and blue archivist a meaningful look, “I thank you for helping our cause gain this platform. To the High Council, I express my thanks for your time and attention.”

Megatron now stood silently, awaiting any questions the Council would have for him. Without wasting a moment, Contrail questioned Megatron’s involvement with the bombings of Six-Lasers and other major locations. The silver gladiator denied any involvement, and even condemned the violent actions as being counterproductive to bringing about the change he desired. Councilor Drivetrain stepped in and began a similar onslaught of questions that bordered on accusation, to which Megatron denied any involvement once again, and emphasized that he mourned the loss of life more acutely than they would assume. However, he was not so ignorant as to deny that the violent actions were likely emboldened by his own anti-caste speeches. Yet, he stood firm, denying any involvement with the bombings.

“You will say it again, and I will disbelief you again,” Drivetrain seethed, “I would sooner believe that your co-conspirator, a data clerk in the Hall of Records, masterminded the invasion of Altihex Casino and the brute bots who identified as Decepticons serve your command.”

Megatron was nearly provoked into snarling at the suggestion of Orion’s involvement at Altihex, barely suppressing his temper as he adorned a mask of naivety.

“Decepticons?” Megatron recited, “what an interesting name.”

Drivetrain’s optics twitched as a scowl crossed his faceplate, “You would think so, since it was you who coined it, was it not?”

In response, Megatron stood at his full height. He could feel the morning sun’s rays on his frame, and no doubt bouncing off his silver armor in a gleaming manner. “I would say that you should implicate neither me nor my friend Orion Pax until you have facts. However, if the term Decepticon is laid at my pedes, I accept it!”

“Sometimes deception is necessary, when those who should listen to the truth will not, and will only understand once they have been lied to. Then they are forced to see their own lies,” the silver mech concluded.

The audience and Council erupted in a series of disagreeing yelps and hollers of approval while Halogen’s gavel resumed its clanging. With the volume of the gallery not lessening in the slightest, Megatron chose to silence everyone himself.

“What the High Council has so far failed to understand is that it is our right!” he boomed, “Each and every Cybertronian has the right to question the Council’s actions and demand change when those actions fall short.”

Finally, a level of quietness has returned to the chamber. Halogen cast his gaze to the front row on the left side of the podium, “What say the Guilds?”

“Representative of the Guilds, Sigil speaking,” croaked an ancient Cybertronian from the front row.

Megatron resisted the reflexive reaction to roll his optics. Sigil and Halogen were known to have emerged from the Well on the same solar-cycle and held firm support for one another. With Sigil also serving as the Guild’s representative, he would no doubt defend the caste system to the last.

Predictably, Sigil rasped about the Guild’s right to ‘guide’ the populace of Cybertron in aspects of life and work to maintain peace and progress. “Without the Guilds, there would be no space bridges. There would be no Hydrax Plateau Spaceport. There would be no Moon Bases…”

Megatron felt a flame within him ignite at such hypocrisy. None of which are functioning or have been operative since the Golden Age! He attempted to calm himself and focus once again.

“... if every criminal malcontent is given the chance to upend what we have spent mega-cycles working to maintain, then I fear for the future of our civilization. I fear for Cybertron itself.”

The hearing chamber filled with conflicting reactions as Sigil finished. Halogen gaveled the chamber back down to a near silent volume and pointed past Megatron, where Orion Pax stood. “Here is another come to testify. What say you, Orion Pax, data clerk at the Hall of Records in Iacon?”

“I say first that Sigil makes no friends amongst unhappy Cybertronians because he is as pompous as any spark has ever been,” Orion answered immediately.

Megatron nearly jolted, Orion’s witty response had nearly summoned a bundle of laughter to escape him. He turned to see Orion’s optics burning with anger, which in turn made his own spark burn brighter. All of the Council’s offenses melted away as Megatron stepped backwards a few paces and watched Orion step up to the podium. The usually level headed Orion now stood at the center of attention, his field burning with vexation.

“You claim for the Guilds the power to determine the lives of every Cybertronian,” Orion began, “Is this what the Thirteen would have wanted? Is it any coincidence that as the Guilds rose to power and castes became entrenched, Cybertron lost contact with the rest of the worlds?”

Megatron watched Orion’s digits tense and slacken as he spoke, “As you confine each Cybertronian into a smaller and smaller space, with less to go and see and do what they might want, you create a world in which no one knows how to look beyond anymore. No one knows how to imagine.”

“I can imagine an end to this session,” Ratbat taunted as laughter reverberated throughout the room.

Orion nervously began looking around as if suddenly lost as laughter filled the chamber. Megatron grounded his jaw and stared daggers at Ratbat as all of his malice for the High Council returned to him. Such bold claims from the smallest member of the Council. He was so thin that Megatron could not help but imagine how the Councilor might sound being slowly crushed under his own pedes. How easy it would be…

“Fellow Cybertronians,” Orion called out with a sudden passion, “members of the Council, hear me. Megatron speaks harshly, but true. He has seen the truth of life for many Cybertronians whose lives are all too often invisible, and if he is angry, it is anger born of love for an ideal and spark-deep pain at our failure of that ideal.”

Warmth returned to Megatron’s core as Orion shared his assessment of his own values to the world. His stare was now fixed on the archivist as his servos rose and fell with every proclamation. Megatron could not help but admire the way the sun’s ray highlighted Orion’s shoulder plating and twinkled off his finials.

“The recent attacks were savage and inexcusable - yet they were only symptoms. The unrest spreading across Cybertron will not stop with these attacks because it is the natural expression of a people who for too long have been held in check, their potential forever unrealized because of the false constraints of caste and Guild.”

Megatron listened earnestly, waiting for Orion to add a new perspective instead of rephrasing what he had already stated in a more indirect manner. Yet, breems past and, curiously, Orion did not stop.

What is he doing? Megatron slowly tensed as Orion continued to give his own version of Megatron’s testimony, but with references to the Primes of old and eloquent phrasing.

“No Cybertronian is simply the mechanical sum of their parts. From the smallest mini-con to the mightiest combiner, from the simplest data processor to the scientists who teach us the laws of the universe, each of us contains a living spark that makes us who we are…”

Orion pressed on, and Megatron unconsciously dropped his servos to his sides and gaped. From the ‘simplest data processor’ to the renowned scientist? Both were mid to high caste professions, did Orion intend to omit the entire low caste in his example?

“I beg the Council to consider how each of us contains a living spark that makes us who we are, not what we are,” Orion declared, “That in time I hope we can all agree that the spark within us all awakens us to the possibility of freedom. It makes us alive with the idea that we might choose what we shall become- as each of you did, Councilors. In time I hope you will come to this same conclusion, however long it may take.”

Anxiousness was building within Megatron with every sentence Orion uttered. Questions buzzed at lightning speeds as he attempted to rationalize what he was hearing. It was possible that Orion was nervous and speaking indiscriminately. Or were these his subconscious biases that were making themselves known as he spoke?

He could see audience members shifting and nodding thoughtfully, and a new sensation stirred within Megatron. It felt like Orion stood a mile away from him, trying to separate himself from Megatron and his rebels to advertise himself as a ‘clean’ and ‘agreeable’ revolutionary.

“...And we will crush this new movement toward freedom, sacrificing freedom for order? I say no.” Orion announced with boldness.

What are you trying to say!? Megatron wished to grab Orion by the shoulders and shout. He could see his message now, unraveling into disjointed strands and falling to the wayside as fragmented messages of violence. Without the threads of perseverance and a need to survive, the context would be lost, and the fragments would be rejected for their ‘severity’.

Megatron stiffened as his dear friend continued, “Order achieved through force can never be true peace. There can be no peace through tyranny.”

For the first time in ages, Megatron thought he felt his spark pulse stop. Lightning crackled through his lines and the Council room dimmed for a moment. Orion had not just side stepped his intentions, he had thrown them down and denounced them in front of the entire assembly.

Tyranny? Megatron thought he might choke if he tried to speak. Orion, his dearest friend and steadfast ally, had compared the end goal of his plan of action to tyranny. Even if his intentions did include an authoritarian position for himself, the connotation stung. He knew such comparisons could not be unmade and the media would waste no time to further brand him as an aspiring despot.

To his horror, Orion continued; “The time has come for all Cybertronians to be united again, and I say we need a new Prime to unite us. We do not need a Prime who moves us as if we were parts of a great machine, who demands we be drones and slaves as the price of a peace that is only stasis.”

The council room remained quiet as he continued on, “Cybertron needs a leader of the free, a Prime who recognizes that all Cybertronians are autonomous robots, owned by no one but themselves. Masters of their own fates. I will say it again. Autonomous robots!”

There was now no room for ambiguity, Orion had publicly refused the moniker of Decepticons in favor of electing his own title. He continued to speak, but Megatron could barely hear as his own emotions began to boil over. How could you? How could you paint me as an adversary while positioning yourself as a more virtuous alternative? Stop this, please!

“...Members of the Council, the choice is yours. I wish you wisdom.” Orion concluded, and the Council room fell silent. Every single individual in the audience was in awe of Orion, and it took only a click for the archivist to realize this. In response, Orion lifted both of his clenched fists and shouted.

“For Cybertron! Autobots!”

Halogen began to smash his gavel to maintain order, but it was no use. The crowd roared as one, gaining momentum with every word, “AUTOBOTS! For freedom!”

“AUTOBOTS!”

The thunderous screams and applause bombarded the gladiator’s audials. Megatron’s vision became distorted, and the Council room began blurring at the edges. There Orion stood at the podium, positioned victoriously as the audience chanted his praise. Orion’s form began to look less like his treasured brother in arms, and now more like a detached political rival. His charmingly soft edges and benevolent smile had become sharp in the room’s lighting and his smile looked more akin to a mocking smirk.

The silver gladiator could only stare, devastated by what he was witnessing. Orion had resisted watching gladiatorial matches, yet here he stood like a victorious gladiator himself as the spectators hollered their approval.

Were these Orion’s true colors, his true intentions? Fear, a feeling long since cast aside returned to the gladiator, led to one final realization.

Have I been deceived?

In Megatron’s mind’s eye, a deep and bottomless chasm had erupted between them. It felt as vast and bottomless as the Sonic Canyons, if not more. In the wake of their divide, Megatron realized that Orion had revealed a most severe weakness that he had no knowledge of carrying.

Fear morphed into hot, boiling anger. Rage. No, he would not be undone by some opportunistic clerk. He could feel himself returning to his senses, the Council room returning to full clarity as Orion turned around to meet his stare. His gaze was expectant, and his grin wide.

After everything I have done for you, Megatron hissed internally, you still look to me as if to ask for more.

Megatron made no intention to hide his rage when Orion’s expression turned puzzled. Halogen finally maintained some semblance of order and called out his own response.

“There is more to this scenario than whether you, Orion Pax, and you, Megatron, will call your followers Autobots or Decepticons.”

You couldn’t even begin to fathom how much more there is. Megatron ignored Halogen’s rambling until he made a curious statement directed at Orion.

“...And Orion Pax, it matters not whether you and Megatron have argued over methods or philosophy, because your actions have contributed as much to the current crisis as his have.”

“Yes, councilor,” Orion acknowledged with humility after a thoughtful moment. His response pleased Halogen, which struck Megatron as suspicious as the moment dragged longer than expected. There was a strange expression Halogen wore, as if he had just made a profitable finding. Megatron warily chose to pay attention as Halogen spoke once again.

“The question of freedom has lain dormant for far too long. We, this Council, must accept our share of the blame for this. I stand before you, citizens of Cybertron, and I express my regret for my failure to see and acknowledge the pent up anger caused by the perpetuation of the caste system.”

The other Council members muttered in protest trying to get Halogen’s attention, which eventually gave way to a roar from the gallery. When order prevailed, Halogen and Contrail mused over the Matrix of Leadership and how it served as the indisputable badge of approval and symbol of unity for Cybertron’s true leader. However, the Matrix only shows itself to those who are worthy to bear it. Orion and Megatron shared a confused glance before turning their attention back to the conversation at hand.

Contrail now stood shoulder to shoulder with Halogen as he spoke, “There is a way forward. We have consulted with the head Archivist of the Hall of Records and he has revealed to us something we did not know.”

“Get on with it,” Megatron murmured so quietly only Orion could have heard him.

“The Matrix of Leadership is on Cybertron though it has not been seen for billions of mega-cycles,” Halogen admitted bitterly.

So Sentinel Prime doesn’t have the Matrix, Megatron realized. No one has been worthy of the Matrix for as long as the caste system has been established.

He didn’t need external validation that his crusade against the system was just, but it was still nice to know a relic of the Primes corroborated what he knew to be true. The crowd interrupted his thoughts as they began to restlessly question Sentinel Prime’s ability to lead.

“Silence!” Halogen ordered, “This is not the time for commentary from the gallery. In the absence of Sentinel Prime we must take collective steps where we would prefer to have individual initiative.”

We will be here for the whole solar-cycle if we do not get to the point! All of these side tangents and vague speeches regarding Cybertron’s ancient artifacts were wearing Megatron’s patience thin. Every moment wasted was a moment in which a citizen with no name was either dying in smelting factories, or being killed in the pits.

“If times are as dire as you say,” Megatron bellowed, “then they do not permit elaborate speeches. Let us hear what you have to say, plainly and directly.”

Mortifying gasps were heard as Halogen’s optics flared with indignation, “Then I will speak as plainly and directly as I may.”

Megatron was about to respond with an equally curt remark just as he felt a servo on his shoulder. His gaze shot down to see Orion close at his side, “Please, let’s hear what they have to say,” he pleaded softly.

Megatron’s optics narrowed as he thought for a tense moment. For the sake of not getting escorted out of the High Council’s chamber for offensive behavior, he opted to relax his servos and heed Orion’s words. The flames of rage still burned within him. He and Orion would have much to discuss after all of this was settled.

Contrail took the opportunity to accuse the Decepticons of searching for the Matrix of Leadership and undertaking such disastrous violence as a means of distraction. The Counselor appeared suddenly frantic when he caught Halogen’s gaze.

“How are we to know the truth about what Megatron, or Orion Pax for that matter, might be planning?”

Halogen smirked, “Orion Pax has disavowed the name Decepticon.”

Megatron’s digits were now twitching as his intake sped up. They were trying to provoke him once again, and it was working. None of them may have foreseen Orion’s testimony, but the Council was quick to leverage it against him. He was beginning to feel himself being figuratively backed into a corner in front of the entire chamber.

A static voice called out from the gallery, “Then who is mobilizing spies to dig through the ancient ruins and bypass Crystal City’s security?”

The silver mech immediately recognized the alteration overlay disguising Soundwave's voice to keep his identity hidden. His communications officer was trying to play the Council at their own game.

However, Halogen ignored the call, and continued his explanation of the Matrix of Leadership’s importance to Cybertron’s history and its elusive nature. It dawned on both Orion and Megatron that, perhaps, the Council was leading up to granting them their wish.

“According to the head archivist, Alpha Trion,” Halogen announced, “The Matrix may be found in these turbulent times, and if found will lead all Cybertronians through to a new age on the other side.”

“Yes,” Megatron stated softly as Halogen raised his gavel and stared down at the two revolutionaries.

“Orion Pax,” Halogen declared, “Upon you we place the quest for the Matrix of Leadership.”

A hushed stillness fell over the entire chamber. No one dared move or speak as they absorbed Councilor Halogen’s words. Not a single bot dared make any movements while the clicks stretched on. Megatron thought every function within his systems had become paralyzed as he strained to grasp at Halogen’s meaning.

“Excuse me?” Orion finally uttered.

All members of the High Council stood in unison and saluted. Megatron began to tremble as Orion continued to gape, struggling to find words and failing to say anything.

“The Matrix of Leadership is yours to seek, because from this moment on…”

No.

Gasps and shocked murmurs rose from the audience as Halogen raised his voice.

“... you are Optimus Prime. Unite Cybertron and all Cybertronians. Usher in this new era you have spoken of so eloquently.”

No!

Deafening silence fell into thunderous cries as the gallery gradually exploded into various reactions. Some were howling their support for the decision, while others stomped and cried out in disapproval.

Megatron’s processor raced while he could only stand in place. What is the meaning of all this? Alpha Trion- did he intend this? Megatron imagined the seasoned head Archivist string together an alluring offer into the audials of Halogen, while Councilor nodded approvingly. Perhaps Orion had spoken to Halogen’s biases with the assistance of his mentor.

Megatron remembered Halogen’s satisfaction with Orion’s humble admission to guilty association with his cause. Suddenly, the pieces began painting a clearer picture when placed together.

The High Council saw an opportunity with Orion, and they took it. He was a means of delaying Megatron’s quest for immediate change and approving Orion’s methods of slow and gradual change within the current system. To accept Orion as a symbol to appease the disgruntled, would be to throw Megatron’s Decepticons to the wolves. They would be branded as tyrannical conspirators, and separated from their own movement’s roots. All of the harsh realities and negative associations would be thrust upon his cause, while the higher castes diluted themselves into thinking they had corrected a grave injustice.

But Megatron couldn’t wait for ‘some day’ for Cybertron to improve. He could not risk waiting for the high castes to sit on their servos and discuss the validity and worth of the industry workers, miners, and slaves for cycles on end. The whole system needed to be destroyed, or else others like him would continue to perish not knowing their own worth.

Orion looked around as if looking for some indication of what to do next. After a few more respectful clicks, the Council dropped their salutes and sat back down into their seats. Halogen motioned Orion forward as he spoke, “In times of great need Cybertron turns to those whom the spark of greatness truly blazes. Optimus Prime, you must see us through the turbulent times that are to come.”

He is but a clerk! Megatron wanted to shriek, one well-researched speech is all it took for you to appoint him as the next Prime!?

Megatron had fought so hard, so incredibly hard, to get to this point. He had nearly died countless times in the mines, even more when he entered the gladiatorial arena. He had survived the hostility of the crime bosses and an unending list of assassins sent personally by Sentinel Prime. He had clawed his way to this moment, only to be passed over for an eloquent clerk.

The newly appointed Optimus Prime stepped forward, soaking in the burning optics of every Cybertronian in the audience. “But I am not worthy of this,” he stated evenly.

Megatron audibly growled, this was going too far. This whole display was becoming too absurd to endure any longer. Optimus actually whipped around in response, forcing Megatron to speak up.

“A fine show of humility,” Megatron snarled as he hunched in a defensive stance.

Optimus only stared back wordlessly as he studied Megatron’s posture. He began to raise his servos defensively, as if worried Megatron may leap at him, as if he were some kind of hungry and angry beast.

He was angry, and deeply wounded by this whole situation. And yet, when Optimus stared at him with optics full of alarm… He couldn't bring himself to speak further. He was overwhelmed, and he wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

Instead of repeating himself louder, or demanding answers, Megatron turned away from Optimus and the High Council. His steps thumped like the blows of a smelter’s hammer, resounding throughout the chamber. He set his optics on the exit, avoiding optic contact with anyone else, and marched in bitter silence. He did not look back, and he did not care what the Council thought of him now.

He burst through the doors and found himself outside the Council building. Behind him he could hear a ruckus of calls and storming of pedes. He closed his optics, and attempted to steady his intake as he walked. Before anyone else could reach him- Ravage, Rumble, and Frenzy had caught up with him.

“Boss… what’s going on?” Rumble asked urgently.

“I thought the clerk was helping us!” Frenzy exclaimed.

Ravage placed herself against Megatron’s left pede and expanded her field reassuringly. Megatron’s optics glanced over each of them briefly before closing his optics again in frustration.

“My friend Orion Pax came here saying he wanted to play peacemaker. He asked me to come under the banner of friendship and trust.” Megatron paused as he clenched his fists, “He brought all of us here flying the false flag of reconciliation- when what he really pursued was power.”

“Sounds was right then,” Frenzy whispered to Rumble.

Megatron didn’t have time to snap at the mini-con before a familiar voice called out to him from the building’s entrance.

“Megatron,” Optimus called desperately, “Wait!”

Megatron’s jaw clamped shut into a frown as he kept his back to the voice. Not waiting for Megatron to turn around, Optimus ran in front of him.

“I did not want this. I still do not want it. If I had my preference-,”

“Save your lies. Only a fool would try to get an audience and decline the mantle of Prime,” Megatron hissed coldly.

Still, Optimus stood his ground and pressed further. “Who is to say I am the one? We do not know if I am that someone. But I respect the High Council, and I respect our traditions, and if they say I am- I will try to fulfill the role expected of me so that we can further our-”

“Silence!” Megaton bellowed, “Spare me your charades of innocence.”

“Brother,” Optimus uttered in bewilderment, “You believe me, don’t you?”

You dare throw that word at me! After everything, you dare call me your ‘brother!?’

“Optimus Prime,” he spat, just before his gaze fell and sorrow momentarily overtook his fury.

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe you now. I believed you before.”

“We want the same thing-”

“No, we don’t,” Megatron grounded his jaw, optics becoming narrow slits, and his lines burned inside him once again. “We fight because our lives are at stake!”

The ex-gladiator lowered his clenched servos and stared directly into Orion’s blue optics. “You and your friends stand for your comfortable philosophies and compromise every step towards realizing true justice.”

“Megatron… You misunderstand,” was all Optimus could choke out.

“You’ve made yourself clear,” Megatron said hoarsely as he walked past the ghost of his friend, not sparing him a glance.

He did not slow his pace, and he did not look back. He felt no desire to bid Orion, or rather Optimus Prime, a farewell. His little archivist was no more.

Behind him, an uproar began to unfold, but it was drowned out by his own spark pulse pounding in his audials.

- - -

Megatron and his followers returned to Kaon to regroup. Word of Optimus Prime’s appointment had reached every corner of the Network, and his loyal supporters awaited his direction. In contrast, Megatron’s followers scoured over the streets of Kaon in anticipation, expressing their grievances freely with one another.

Their leader however, sat in solemn contemplation. Soundwave had found him sitting at the only work desk in his hab-suite. Despite his desk being covered in data pads, his mind was elsewhere. The only light source came from the halls beyond the opened door Soundwave had stepped through. Soundwave noted a sense of hollowness in the room, even Megatron’s field lacked any indication of a beating spark pulsing inside his unmoving husk of a frame.

“Query,” Soundwave stated flatly, luring Megatron’s attention to the present.

“Yes?”

The ex-gladiator thought he saw Soundwave hesitate for a click before opening up his subspace and presenting Megatron with the unassuming flat box. When Megatron made no sound or movement, Soundwave held the box out with a tentacle and used his servo to remove the lid and adjust the protective sleeve just enough to see the teal edges of the tablet.

Soundwave appeared to understand as he briskly moved the sleeve back in place and closed the box. His gripping tentacle inched the box closer to the ex-gladiator.

“Tablet: still desired?”

Megatron did not look up. He considered pulling out his canon and firing upon the box. Or perhaps extending his blade and making a clean slice through the center, making sure to avoid Soundwave’s limbs. Yet, he did not possess the fortitude to do either.

The silent moments extended into a breem before Soundwave quietly placed the box down on the desk in front of Megatron. Not waiting for a response any longer, the dark blue mech retracted his tentacles and stalked out of the hab-suite.

The door closed behind him, blocking out the light from the hallway as it shut. Megatron remained still as the dark shadows chased away the streaks of artificial light. In the wake of a newly formed chasm of false-sentiments, he had made himself at home, nestled in the dark abyss.

Megatron’s systems adjusted automatically to low-light settings. The blue light from his optics softly reflected against the table and his polished silver plating. After what felt like a whole cycle of empty staring, Megatron lifted a servo to reach for the box.

He felt disenchanted holding the gift. With lethargic movements Megatron opened the box and removed the protective sleeve entirely. The tablet’s bright colors stood out in his servos, as if taunting him.

Megatron fixed his stare on one of the rounded teal blue corners. His vision blurred, and instantly he was looking into Orion’s familiar blue optics. As his mental image widened, Orion’s expression was revealed to be one of greed. An opportunistic smile etched his face plate as his optics became piercing ice blue.

“Damn you,” Megatron breathed coarsely.

Even as he cursed the tablet, he held it lightly in his clawed digits. He would destroy it. Crush it into dust and scatter the remains. Or perhaps burn it until nothing but smelted alloy persisted. He would lay waste to this tablet one way or another, but it would be on his terms and by his hand.

But it would not be today. Unwilling to look at the tablet any longer, Megatron dropped it on top of a stack of data pads. He had more important matters to deal with that required his attention, like his people.

He stood up and trudged to the washroom in his hab-suite. The automatic lights shone dimly as he stood before the reflective panel, frowning at his own reflection.

He lingered on the crestfallen blue optic lenses that stared back at him. He had gotten used to how he appeared with blue optics, and numbly remembered how proud he used to feel matching Orion’s aquamarine optics. Orion had never seen him in person with his original red lenses.

Megatron blinked with sudden awareness. His red lenses, the ones he had cast aside to make a political statement, perhaps they were more fitting for him.

Him, a gladiator who had reached for the stars and had crashed so violently to the surface below.

Him, who had been cast aside in favor of a well-spoken higher caste bot with connections.

Him, the scum of Cybertron who was branded as tyrannical by his dearest friend.

Suddenly his blue optic lenses felt too closely associated with the enemy to be merely blue lenses. How idiotic was he to think, for even a moment, that such a statement would amount to anything? He would never be entertained by the elites, and he would never be seen as worthy of leadership. In an instant, Shockwave’s words returned to him.

“...Blue toned lenses have the weakest infrastructure of all optic types, it would be more efficient to remain with the red toned lenses to refrain from needing more frequent repairs and replacements...”

A deep and dark flame began to burn from within Megatron’s spark. It grew with every realization and pulsed though his lines like a drug. It made his servos tremble and his intake dry. It made his vision red.

Red like his original optics and those of the low-caste masses he represented and fought for.

Frenzied rage began to build within Megatron. For the first time in solar-cycles, he finally felt something other than emptiness. He raised both of his trembling clawed digits, looked into his ghastly reflection one last time, and plunged his claws into his optics.

He felt the lenses shatter in his helm and energon lines burst as his sharp digits penetrated his sensitive optic systems. He wailed in agony as the pain spread to his entire helm, keeping his claws still. His vision became a dark void of thrumming pain.

His vents were strained as he calculated his next movements. How best to remove his energon stained claws from his helm without off-lining from the pain..?

With as much care as his trembling servos allowed, Megatron began to pull his claws out of his optic sockets, and down his face. He grunted and sputtered energon as he dragged his claws down the front of his faceplate and inward, feeling the ends of his digits piercing the top layer of living metal as they went. His already battered helm stung from the new sensation as his claws reached his chin.

Hunched over his damp digits, energon drained from his face plate and splattered to the floor. His whole chassis shook with tremors of pain, and he hackled whenever energon caught in his intake.

Soon enough that dark flame from within Megatron’s spark resumed its advance. It reclaimed his lines and spread through his entire being. At the pinnacle of the inferno, Megatron finally released a howl he had been suppressing for far too long.

He clasped his digits into fists and wailed a horrible sound. It spilled out of him like some kind monster of its own, shaking the walls of the washroom and rebounding in mutilated echoes. He allowed the feelings of betrayal, false affections, and humiliation to flow out of him in a thunderous mess. In time, Megatron felt as if he had purged every tangled emotion from his system.

He warily lifted his helm as the energon continued to discharge from his self-inflicted injuries. He couldn’t see his own reflection, but he didn’t need to. The tortured mech could imagine how horrific he must look with gouged sockets and a newly disfigured face plate. The long lacerations would leave behind deep set scars even after they had healed.

He would be monstrous. A fitting reflection of how the high council viewed him. And since Orion had joined them, he would soon see how monstrous he could be.

“Hah… hah…”

Megatron gripped his thundering helm in his servos. He would be their greatest obstacle, one of their own construction.

“Haha! Hahaha!!”

The silver mech was entirely consumed with his own revelations that he missed the sound of urgent pedes approaching and suddenly ceasing. In the washroom entryway, Soundwave and Ravage stood motionless, aside from Ravage’s darting red optics. With extreme caution, Soundwave extended a protective servo in front of Ravage while the mini-con crouched in panic, ready to flee.

“HAHAHA! Hah, ha… To the pits with all of them…!”

Chapter Text

With a choking vent and racing spark, Megatron’s optics snapped open as the disembodied memory flickered in his vision before fading into the details of his dark hab-suite. The echoing trails of bleeding energon melted into the contours of the walls while the rest of the memory dissolved into the shadows. Distrustfully, Megatron studied the dark corners of the room until he was certain there were no tangible threats hidden in the dimmed corners.

The silver mech heaved his pedes over the corner of his berth and sat forward, his digits making an unsettling scratching sound against the hard metal as he oriented himself forward. Sensing movement, the lights automatically turned on to Megatron’s chagrin.

His lines were still pulsing with waning adrenaline as he reset his optics twice for good measure. He dismissed the internal system warnings with haste, and coughed loudly until his vents re-established their usual rhythm.

After regaining a semblance of composure, the Decepticon leader shifted his helm to the side to see the current time. To his annoyance, it was past his usual departing hour by two entire cycles. He shook his helm and released a defeated sigh, concluding that he must have somehow fallen into recharge while reviewing the accursed memory.

The silver mech’s processor unconsciously wandered to the final moment of the aforementioned recollection before thrusting his attention back to his presently empty hab-suite. A deep ache hung from Megatron’s spark as he clasped his jittering digits together to keep them from shaking.

It’s over and done, Megatron attempted to assure himself, mission accomplished.

Yet, the previous pangs of shame were now replaced with a throbbing sense of… something more unpleasant. The silver clad leader struggled to put the sensation into words that made sense. It was a dull and vast feeling that shrouded him in a thick fog. If the emotion were an ocean, he would be drowning for an eternity, never allowed the simple relief of feeling his limp frame meet the ocean’s floor.

He reset his optics and he fixed his attention back to the cold floor. Normally, the denotation of time would have been enough to compel Megatron to hurriedly begin his day. However, the decision to move was not easy, and his limbs resisted each of his half-hearted attempts to stand.

Eventually his limbs and pedes gave way, and he journeyed to the washroom. Habit took control as he came to a halt in front of the tall reflective panel mounted to the wall. He lifted his hollow gaze from the reflection of his chest, to his face plate. Despondent vermilion optics stared back. The long scars that disfigured his face plate had never truly healed, just as he had predicted all those ages ago.

Megatron’s optics squinted, the long gashes usually gave him the countenance of a jaded warrior. However, in his miserable state, they give him the defeated appearance of a failure.

The sensation of betrayal was still fresh, and in the current moment he felt no desire to seek out Orion. When had his dear friend begun to harbor such ambitions without his notice? Did he still harbor such ambitions even now, after his memory loss? No, he’d like to think Orion had only sincere intentions while aboard his ship.

Perhaps I did not know him as well as I thought I had. But I won’t make the same mistake twice.

Megatron resolved to continue his day as if nothing had happened while he processed his uncertainties. Distractions in the form of his usual duties didn’t sound so bad at the moment.

He tore his gaze from the reflective panel and proceeded to finish his morning routine. He took a moment at the exit to dawn a facade of decorum just before marching out into the halls.

- - -

“You expect me to risk my spark in exchange for some supplies!?”

Starscream’s shrill voice filled the Autobot base, causing an already irritated Arcee to growl as she hunched further between Bulkhead and Bumblebee. Ratchet and Wheeljack were situated closer to the main console, facilitating the conversation as best they could.

“Don’t act like you haven’t done worse for less,” Wheeljack countered.

“It’s a simple task. We just need a distraction long enough for us to make our move,” Ratchet reasoned.

“Oh, please” Starscream scoffed, “anyone can be a distraction, but only I can guide you through the ship.”

“For the love of Primus,” Arcee whispered, barely loud enough for others to hear.

“Starscream,” Ratchet ex-vented as he attempted to temper his tone, “In case you have forgotten, you’re the only one who can fly. Which means you’re the only one who can do both, unless you would prefer to simply hand over the ship’s layout and you don’t have to be involved at all.”

“Of course I wouldn’t give you the Nemesis layout, I’m no fool.” Starscream snarled, “This task you are thrusting upon me would require a small team to complete, let alone a solo mission in exchange for a mediocre care package!”

“You’re lucky we offered you anything,” Bulkhead spoke up, “Just the thought of getting some revenge should be enough for you.”

“My standards aren’t so low as to work for retribution as some kind of internal satisfaction. How do you expect me to distract him for long enough, anyways? It’s absurd!”

“Listen, you’re the most conniving bot I know,” Wheeljack started, “I’m sure if anyone, you can think of something.”

“Then you are sorely mistaken to think I could possibly salvage this longshot plan into some kind of tactical advantage.”

A buzzing groan came from Bumblebee while Bulkhead mirrored the sentiment with a low ex-vent. Arcee’s patience appeared to be sufficiently spent as she grumbled something intelligible and she stepped forward.

“It’s simple,” Arcee called out harshly so the communication could pick up her voice. “You either figure out a way to keep up your end of this prospective deal, or you can lose our comms because you’ll never get any aid from us again. You can remember our time together fondly when you’re rotting away in some cave, burning the last of your precious energon.”

A muffled snarl was Starscream’s immediate reaction before taking a moment to temper his anger and respond in a strained composure. “This is a suicide mission. You can charge in weapons blazing all you like, but unless you have a strategy I won’t be entertaining your offer.”

Sharp static and a beep from the console signaled Starscream had ended the communications. The bots stared in disbelief for a moment before sighing or grumbling to themselves.

“I hate to say it,” Bulkhead began, “but I think he has a point.”

"I was hoping ‘Screamer had suggestions of his own. I didn’t expect him to be so decisively against it,” Wheeljack admitted.

With a digit to his helm and a deep frown, Ratchet ‘tsked’ loudly. “Maybe we should have offered more. None of this works without his assistance.”

“No way,” Arcee interrupted. “He’s on his own. He’ll realize he needs resources sooner or later, then he’ll find it within himself to comply.”

“We can’t afford to wait for Starscream to come around,” Ratchet argued. “Every solar-cycle we waste gives Megatron all the time he needs to break Optimus.”

“You’re not the only one who cares about Optimus,” Arcee snapped. “We’re doing our best with every opportunity we get. Bee and Bulkhead run themselves ragged every patrol trying to track the ‘cons. There isn’t a day that goes by where we all haven’t dwelled on what we’ve lost so I’d appreciate it if you dropped the self-righteous attitude for a cycle.”

Arcee had stalked towards Ratchet with every beat until she stood only a pace away. Ratchet scoffed deeply and loomed over the blue bot, “You’re one to talk. You of anyone here should know we can’t afford to lose anyone else, or do only partners warrant urgent-,”

”Whoa, okay, yes,” Wheeljack interjected, placing himself in between the two bots. His voice had a calming resonance, however his field bristled with alarm. “We all love Optimus, and want to have him back. I think that’s what we need to focus on here.”

Before Arcee or Ratchet could issue another remark, Bumblebee added his own reassurance as best he could, placing himself closer to Arcee’s side.

“Exactly,” Bulkhead agreed. “We got the knowledge of the Primes against all odds, it’s just this last stretch that stands between us and getting Optimus back. We’ll figure this out.”

To the other’s relief, Arcee crossed her servos and turned away from Ratchet while the taller medic huffed. Both bots simmering but unwilling to argue any further.

“Right,” Wheeljack tipped his helm in Bulkhead’s direction in thanks. “Let’s take a break before going over the plan again. This time, let’s see how best to incorporate a Starscream worthy strategy to better our odds.”

- - -

A miasma of despondence followed Orion wherever he went, despite his best attempt to appear aloof. Two Vehicons had already asked if he felt unwell, to which he apprehensively waved off their concerns and continued about his work. Concerned that word of his state might reach higher ranks, Orion resolved to spend his first break doing something about his current dilemma.

He briskly made his way towards the Command deck, nodding towards the guards as he approached. It appeared Grey and, to his surprise, the Eradicon XL-132 were on duty together.

“Greetings, you both,” Orion began before lowering his voice to a whisper, “Is Soundwave currently meeting with anyone at the moment?”

Grey instinctively stood up straighter, “Not currently, sir. Shockwave departed from the command deck not long ago.”

XL-132 nodded before adding, “Soundwave should be free for the next cycle or so, barring any impromptu visits.”

“Thank you, I did not wish to interrupt him if he were occupied. This will take only a moment,” Orion explained just before stepping inside. Both guards allowed him to pass with no qualms, to his relief.

As expected, Soundwave was switching between monitors as he worked. Orion stepped cautiously behind the slim mech and waited a few moments before deciding that Soundwave was unlikely to pause his work to acknowledge his presence. Hence, Orion hesitantly reset his vocalizer and began his petition.

“Soundwave, I apologize for the intrusion. I understand you are very busy, however I am in need of your discretion. I don’t think Knockout’s medical knowledge overlaps with device repair.”

At the mention of a ‘device,’ the communications officer’s helm perked and steadily turned to acknowledge Orion’s presence. After a moment, he cocked his helm as if asking, ‘what broke?’

Orion hesitated for a moment before timidly opening his subspace and removing the damaged tablet for Soundwave to see. To his astonishment, Soundwave immediately disconnected from the main terminal and took swift steps towards him. He halted just shy of Orion’s field and leaned towards the device, seemingly studying the unsightly cracks on the screen before looking back to Orion and pointing a thin digit in his direction.

“I didn't drop it carelessly, if that’s what you mean,” Orion clarified. “I had an unfortunate… collision yesterday. I was hoping you or Shockwave might have suggestions on how to repair it.”

Soundwave’s blank visor continued to stare at Orion’s expression for an uncomfortable span of clicks. He turned back to the tablet only to activate his visor and display Breakdown’s staff listing.

“No, it wasn’t Breakdown. I can assure you he is not so careless as to do something like this,” Orion objected, a bit annoyed by the insinuation.

Something akin to muted distress escaped Soundwave’s field as he reached for the tablet with his thin digits. Orion gingerly relinquished the tablet to the communications officer and watched restlessly as Soundwave appraised the damage.

“Please, do not tell Megatron,” he asked in a hushed tone. “I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful for such a gift, or anger him.”

Soundwave appeared to recognize something in Orion’s tone. If he had visible optics, Orion was certain they would be narrowing suspiciously in his direction. The dark mech pulled the tablet closer and raised his free servo as if to silently demand ‘why?’.

Orion blinked, at a loss for what to say. He did not wish to implicate Airachnid, which would inevitably result in some form of punishment on his behalf. Yet, he also did not want to appear distrustful for trying to keep information from Soundwave, and by extension, Megatron.

“Because he’s,” Orion struggled to find a worthy excuse, “...dealing with so much already. This is something trivial in the grand scheme of things, and I don’t wish to add to his burden. As I said before, I do not wish to anger him.”

Something in his desperate tone or wording must have resonated, as Soundwave’s posture eased ever so slightly. He contemplated for a few moments longer before activating his visor once again and playing a pre-recorded message in Starscream’s voice.

“Airachnid-d.”

The name sent a shudder through Orion’s frame. “W-what makes you think so?”

Soundwave only shook his helm once and turned the tablet over in his servos with gentle movements. Orion realized that Sounwave had always handled the gifted tablet with tenderness. It stood out in sharp contrast to how Airachnid had roughly returned it to him after the screen had splintered. The red and blue mech began to wonder if Soundwave had some kind of deep appreciation for… noting taking tools?

Before he could ask, the slim mech had turned and opened an urgent supply request on the main console.

“We will enlist // Shockwave’s assistance-ce // Tell no one.”

The statement was comprised entirely of separate quotes from Megatron. Orion nodded as he observed Soundwave open a lower compartment in the console desk and hide the tablet inside. He then turned to Orion and stepped closer.

Despite Orion’s bigger frame, Soundwave’s countenance overshadowed his own. The red and blue mech braced as Soundwave prepared another spliced message.

“Resume your work-k // stay away // from // Airachnid-d.”

- - -

In one of the spare workstations within close proximity to the medical bay and command deck Shockwave had begun setting up a makeshift workstation. Megatron stood shoulder to shoulder with Shockwave as the scientist droned on about artificial forge details, permissions, and various shortcomings. However, Megatron’s processor was running a different series of scenarios in his helm that had nothing to do with Shockwave’s presentation.

“As you can see, this process will require an invasive procedure for those operating at- Lord Megatron?”

“Hm?” Megatron’s narrowed optics fluttered open and glanced at Shockwave, “Yes, an invasive procedure for the Vehicons?”

Shockwave’s red gaze hardened, “It appears I did not have your full attention.”

Megatron bristled and pulled his field closer, “It’s been a complicated week, Shockwave. You’ll have to excuse my conduct.” The silver mech put his servos behind his back and adjusted his posture, “Please, continue.”

Shockwave hesitated, his single optic lingering on Megatron suspiciously before reluctantly turning back to his notes. “I’ll provide a more condensed outline of my findings.”

Shockwave summoned blueprints of a typical Vehicon frame juxtaposed next to a reformatted variant with flight capabilities. The Decepticon scientist began giving a slightly less detailed explanation of the currently inadequate state of BN series Vehicons, and how their frames could be repurposed for upgrades. However, Shockwave’s explanations faded into background noise once again as Megatron contemplated how to approach Orion.

“Shockwave,” Megatron interrupted suddenly.

“Yes, Lord Megatron?” the scientist’s left finial twitched in annoyance, lowering his servos once again after being interrupted.

“From your rational perspective,” he began trying to sound as professional as possible, “How would you go about eliminating communication barriers with a fellow officer? Hypothetically.”

Shockwave merely stared back, his interest was not piqued in the slightest. Megatron seized the moment to clarify his question.

“Every officer must be committed to the cause if we are to operate as a cohesive unit. Wouldn’t you agree? Optimal efficiency is at stake.”

“Perhaps it would be in your best interest to ask someone else.” Shockwave concluded. “The nature of your question implies a need for tact that does not suit my methods. But if you require my input, my answer would be to simply send a text based communication and plainly state my intentions.”

Megatron’s expression remained stern considering Shockwave’s answer. “What if the weight of the subject is too serious to leave to a text based message? It runs the risk of the recipient misunderstanding the intended tone.”

Shockwave reset his optic, which only confused Megatron further when the scientists took a few moments before answering. “Then I would simply schedule a meeting when both I and the recipient are available to discuss this ‘serious’ subject.”

“But what if there is a history of misunderstandings?”

“Lord Megatron,” Shockwave interjected before the silver mech could elaborate. “You are introducing new factors at every turn. I will be concise: if this subject of discussion is important then there is no reason to idle on the details when the situation should be addressed immediately. Consider the level of priority and act accordingly.”

Megatron crossed his servos and thoughtfully lowered his gaze.

“If my answers are satisfactory, may we return to the original subject and conclude this meeting?”

Megatron’s helm lifted with haste as if pulled from a train of thought. “Yes, please proceed.”

- - -

Cycles had passed, along with most of Megatron’s duties. The final task required the silver clad leader to attend to the Eradicon flight drills in place of the usual captain. Megatron felt the cold, thin air of Earth’s atmosphere brush between his plating as the night cycle approached. The Nemesis’ flight deck began to appear washed with warm lavender hues as the sun retreated beyond the horizon below.

Lucky for him, overseeing the drills was a simple task that only required that he monitor to ensure the exercises were properly executed. His presence alone was enough to keep the Eradicons determined to do their best, allowing him the opportunity to think without interruption.

What had Orion called CL-120? His processor sorted through their previous encounters until he finally recalled the nickname “Cyl.”

Not the most creative name, the silver leader thought, but simple enough. It’s very much like Orion to try and be attentive to nicknames.

Absently glancing over the Eradicon ranks, Megatron began to wonder how many others had chosen nicknames for themselves, and when such traditions had started. His knowledge of the cold constructs had been primarily understood through Shockwave, so he had never assumed the troops would develop personalities of their own. Perhaps he would need to change his perspective if they proved to be more individualistic than he had expected.

How curious, Optimus Prime had no qualms destroying entire squadrons with his Autobots. Yet, Orion feels deeply for their circumstances and losses against the Autobots.

As he finished the thought, a squadron of four Eradicons landed aboard the flight deck with confident thuds. They glanced at one another in satisfaction before signaling the next group to take flight.

He tucked the hypocritical thought away and gazed up at the Eradicons in flight. The Earth’s afternoon colors strengthened and cast a warm gradient over the entire ship and its crew. Softer thoughts blossomed at the edges of Megatron’s processor as he recalled a similarly warm sky the morning of the High Council Hearing.

With Orion’s support, Megatron had felt invincible back then. How unlikely was it to have someone with connections to the higher castes want to support your cause- and admit to be moved by your philosophies? Even back then, it felt too good to be true. Orion’s discussions had sharpened his mind into a lethal blade, and his assistance had become foundational assurance in his mind. He would admit that Orion was needed in Iacon, but surely not nearly as much as Megatron had needed him for the cause.

Megatron’s gaze dropped lower. Perhaps, the odds were always against us. If it wasn’t him, perhaps it would have been some other higher caste bot tempted by the promise of power.

Something inside him twisted like a knife in objection as his metal brows furrowed.

No, that’s not true.

He recalled the many high caste bots who had reached out to him while his broadcasts gained attention on the Grid Network, and how nearly all were disingenuous or misplaced with their purposes. If he didn’t delete their communications himself, then Soundwave conducted his own investigations and deleted the rest. Starscream, as high caste as they come being the late Sentinel’s guard, had not joined him because of the confidence in his leadership and doctrine. He had made it very clear that he would ally himself as a means to further his own goals for Cybertron.

Orion was different. He had demonstrated a capacity to learn and had empathized with his convictions. As much as it pained his current self to admit, Orion had not falsified his genuine compassion for justice. He truly was that rare mid caste bot who had dared to see beyond the walls their societal confinement. It had given him genuine hope, and in turn, instilled fear into the Council.

Megatron put aside the hurtful events of the hearing and focused on this truth- that Orion was someone he had trusted for good reason. Amidst the sea of indolent and self-serving sparks he had met in his lifetime, Orion was true.

He’s stubborn, too kind for his own good, annoyingly witty…

The active squadron returned to the flight deck and signaled enthusiastically for the last group to go, with some encouragement from the resting fliers for good measure. He was reminded of how Orion had reaffirmed his desire to support Megatron at the end of every long video call, how they exchanged text based comms when Orion should have been working, and how their traditional greetings left lasting warmth in his right servo.

… and I’ve missed him dearly.

The dull aching from this morning had returned with a vengeance. It assaulted his core and caught his intake. Megatron thought he may truly be ill, if it weren’t for the fact that emotional systems were the only ones issuing him warnings.

He watched the last Eradicon squadron arc in the sky with ease. The Decepticon leader had begun to understand the common thread underlying his irrational behavior.

The fervent desire to keep Orion close at hand, his fear at Starscream’s infiltration, his unshaking desire to dismiss the concerns of his officers in regards to Orion- all of it was due to the unnamed emotion he had nearly repressed into complete submission. It was the most blameworthy emotion for exposing weaknesses he did not know he had.

I’m miserable because I missed him.

The Eradicon squadron concluded their synchronized arcs and tested their thrusters, temporarily shrinking from sight before returning in a ‘v’ formation. As they passed overhead, Megatron felt the winds thump against his armor.

Were we ever truly of one mind?

The sun had nearly set, and the lavender sky finally surrendered to the arrival of night. The active squadron’s movements were confident, graceful, and operated as a unified entity. They completed their final arc and ascended down onto the long deck, where they were greeted with cheers and victorious calls.

Yet, Megatron’s attention was elsewhere. Something had to be done, had to be changed, right now.

Despite the expectant glances coming from the cheering Eradicons, Megatron turned heel and returned to the Nemesis entrance without so much as an acknowledgement. The Eradicon’s jubilee dwindled until they all silently watched as their leader disappeared inside the dark ship.

- - -

While Megatron attended to his final appointment, Soundwave made his way to the med bay only to find Shockwave foraging inside a Vehicon husk that lay limb on a medical berth. He waited patiently for the larger scientists to finish fishing out a long cable from within the husk’s abdomen and gingerly place the component on a mobile bench to the side.

Once Shockwave looked up, Soundwave lightly gestured to the room to which the purple mech understood as a question.

“Knockout has retired early, claiming he started his shift earlier than usual,” Shockwave answered as he stood straighter.

Soundwave appeared satisfied with the explanation and ejected Laserbeak to allow the mini-con some much needed stretching. While the mini-con took two arcs around the room for good measure, Soundwave presented an unmarked case to Shockwave.

The larger scientist glanced at Soundwave in confusion before accepting the case and removed the lid, only for his movements to freeze. Laserbeak took the opportunity to perch himself on Shockwave’s shoulder and chirrup softly in his audials. Shockwave slowly turned his gaze to Soundwave as if uncertain how to begin his inquiries.

“I assumed Megatron destroyed this.”

Soundwave made a slight shrugging motion and dipped his helm to one side.

.:The tablet was presented following Orion’s initial boarding. It has been used regularly since:.

Shockwave paused to consider the circumstance as he turned the tablet over in his servos. “Does Orion know the original intention of the tablet?”

The communications officer shook his helm. .:Despite this, it was still treated with care. Orion requested assistance with repairs:.

Catching Soundwave’s direction, Shockwave shifted the tablet to get a better look at the shattered screen. He noted the length and depth of cracks while pondering if they even had the corresponding components needed to replace any internal parts.

“It was dropped. But not by Orion, I assume.”

Soundwave nodded in confirmation.

“The Vehicons may be plagued with worsening coordination, but I doubt one of them was responsible.”

.:Airachnid:.

The answer caused Shockwave to rip his attention away from the tablet, the motion so sudden that Laserbeak had to adjust his position so as not to collide with Shockwave’s helm. “For what purpose?”

.:Sabotage:.

Before Shockwave could ask a follow-up question, Soundwave projected a surveillance clip of the incident. The taller scientist had to bend down slightly as he watched the scene unfold, starting with Airachnid’s sudden interception and her even swifter departure. Shockwave noted clear signs of distress in Orion’s posture as he held the damaged tablet close and struggled to resume his journey to down the corridors. When the recording ended, he turned back to the tablet with new clarity.

“She has redirected Lord Megatron’s directives to undermine his intentions. If Megatron finds out about the tablet, or her exchange with Orion, she will be due for the very treatment she cautioned Orion of. To which he may very well become an obstacle, rather than remain an ally.”

.:Airachnid’s offenses: too numerous to mention. Significantly more disadvantageous to remain aboard than Orion:.

“I agree with your evaluation. However, removing her from our ranks may prove to be troublesome. Moreover, it may prove Orion’s suspicions to be correct. If we are not thorough, we may cause even more problems.”

.:Conceal tablet from Megatron until it is repaired:.

Soundwave glanced towards Laserbeak, who was already beginning to dismount from Shockwave’s shoulder. The mini-con smoothly attached himself back to Soundwave’s chest as Soundwave turned his visor plate back to Shockwave.

“Agreed. Lord Megatron was uncharacteristically distracted today, which will work to our advantage.”

Laserbeak finished docking, and Soundwave gave the taller scientist a small nod.

.:I will undertake Airachnid’s removal:.

- - -

As soon as the Eradicon exercises had concluded, Megatron departed from the landing deck without so much as a dismissal. He swiftly made his way down all major halls and passed the break rooms, shocked to find Orion’s workspace empty. He checked the time and was bewildered to see Orion had logged out of his workstation on time.

Megatron concluded that Orion must simply be resting in his hab-suite. He nearly jogged over to the hab-suite block and approached suite AQ7. When hovering over the keypad, the key lit up in white lights to prompt the user to enter the passkey.

…. Which meant Orion was not in his hab-suite. Megatron suspiciously eyed the border of the door to see if any light from the inside had escaped, indicating someone was inside. To his frustration, he could not detect any light or sound coming from within.

Blast, he grumbled, where could such a big mech be hiding?

Megatron resolved to check the med bay, perhaps Orion was feeling unwell. Or was he spending his time delivering energon once again? Upon entering the med-bay, and finding only Shockwave inside, Megatron slumped. Before Shockwave could fully pivot from his project to see who had entered, Megatron had slipped away.

This is not happening. Megatron felt worry beginning to nip at his spark as he resolved to venture to the Command deck and ask the one mech he'd rather not bend to at this moment.

It was a quick journey to the central deck, where Megatron fortified his confidence and entered with sturdy pede-falls.

“Soundwave, have you seen Orion?” Megatron demanded as he padded closer to Soundwave. His communications officer paused only briefly before glancing back at Megatron.

“I’ve checked every blasted sector of this ship and I can’t seem to find him.”

To his frustration, Soundwave held the glance for a few moments before turning back to the central console to resume his work.

“Soundwave, it’s no secret that you monitor the surveillance system as if it were second nature. Where is Orion?”

Without so much as pausing or turning, he received a spliced transcript in answer.

“O-Orion is // aboard-d // safe-e”

Megatron’s expression narrowed and didn’t bother to dampen the dissatisfaction emanating from his field.

“I assumed he hadn’t jumped off to his own demise. I need to know where he is,” he needlessly clarified. Soundwave’s refusal to provide a simple answer was beginning to arouse suspicion in his processor.

Soundwave was in no hurry to clarify himself, instead he slowly turned the upper half of his frame to face Megatron. His helm dipped slightly, and when Megatron failed to understand this gesture, he unhurriedly spliced a new phrase.

“Are y-you // angr-ry // ?”

The inquiry only confounded Megatron further, which caused his tone to dip deeper into annoyance. “That is besides the point. I need to speak with him, it’s of the utmost importance.”

Rather than splice a new message, Soundwave turned the rest of his frame to step toward Megatron. His movements were confident as if challenging Megatron. The slim mech lifted his helm to minimize the height difference between them.

Even with no word, Megatron knew Soundwave’s actions insinuated one demand: why?

Megatron’s short fuse had now been properly lit. His expression contorted into a snarl and anger exploded from his field as he extended his servos in desperation.

“I don’t expect you to understand!” Megatron hollered, “Just tell me where he is and I’ll be out of your field!”

Soundwave’s visor flickered as he drew back suddenly. Megatron winced, feeling immediate regret for having lashed out. He lowered his servos and ex-vented deeply.

“Just tell me where he is,” he grumbled just above a whisper, “You’ve never cared for Orion before, so I don’t understand your insistence on keeping his whereabouts private. I’m not- angry with him, if that’s what you're concerned about.”

Soundwave didn’t move for an uncomfortable while. Eventually he did activate his visor to display a map of Nemesis, and highlighted a narrow corner of one of the lowest levels. Megatron noted the coordinates with haste and turned to depart.

“Your assistance is appreciated,” he called as he approached the exit, eager to leave the tense room. However, as he turned the first corner, he received a private comms message.

Identifying the message sender caused him to wince further, and reading it only made his regret deepen. He dismissed the message immediately, but the contents looped in his processing continuously.

.:Do not overlook my understanding:.

- - -

Megatron paid no mind to his rushed pede-falls as he closed in on Orion’s coordinates. He slowed his speed as he passed the final corner and was met with an empty maintenance hall. His optics darted around the hall in confusion as he continued to step closer. Was his luck so awful as to just miss the tall and vibrantly plated mech?

However, I took only a click for Megtron to notice the maintenance hatch was slightly ajar. He approached the hatch with the intention to close it before a familiar shade of red caught his optics. Sitting out on the husk of the Nemesis was Orion by himself.

Relief immediately flowed through Megatron’s lines and his posture eased. He was unsure how Orion had managed to find himself such a hiding spot, but his relief outweighed any suspicions he might have had. The silver mech gently pushed the hatch open and felt the ship’s magnetic pull stabilize his pedes.

Megatron’s pede soundlessly met the ship’s exterior as he stepped outside, making sure the hatch didn’t close behind him completely. Once the hatch had been fixed to its previously ajar position, Megatron turned back to Orion and found himself assaulted by the blanket of cosmos that hung outlining Orion’s silhouette.

For a few moments, Megatron found himself lost in their twinkling lights. His mind wandered back to Cybertron, and to the countless nights he found himself gazing at the night sky after regularly entering the Pits. He had spent the first part of his life in the mines, where breaks on the surface had been a rare delight. However, when the gladiatorial arena became his usual residence, the starlit nights had become an expected sight rather than a rare gift.

He recalled his reaction back then to seeing the starry sky for the first time. You mean to tell me this is a regular sight? His younger self gawked at how those who lived on the surface simply continued with their nights, their sights lowered to the ground, missing the beautiful expanse of lights that towered over them. He could only shake his helm, aggravated by their unwillingness to look up.

From then on he had resolved to never look down. And now, he found himself looking up at a new and unfamiliar solar system. Somehow, the cosmos felt smaller than it had back then.

Finally, Megatron lowered his helm and set his gaze onto Orion who was sitting a few paces away. Instead of leaning back to take in the sight, he appeared hunched over his knees as if contemplating the gravity of something severe. Megatron suddenly wondered if Orion had hidden himself outside the ship for a reason.

Should he retreat and try to find Orion later? Megatron’s conviction wavered as he contemplated his options. However, it was the thought of another night of uncertain thoughts haunting his power down that forced him to steel his resolve. He couldn’t afford to avoid this conversation any longer.

Megatron delicately stepped closer until he stood just behind Orion and adjusted his posture to stand tall, placing his servos neatly behind his back.

“So this is where you have been hiding.”

Orion jerked, his expression was a mixture of surprise and grimace, which in turn wounded Megatron more than he’d like to admit.

“Megatron,” Orion shuffled to his knees as if to stand.

“You don’t have to get up,” Megatron waved, “if I may take up a spot beside you?”

To Megatron’s alarm, Orion hesitated. The metaphorical wound of his pride widened as he attempted to remain composed. Eventually Orion nodded and resumed his sitting position without a word. Megatron shuffled until he was in a similar sitting position, except he placed his servos at his sides and allowed his limbs to stretch out flat across the ship’s exterior.

What followed was a dreadful silence that prickled Megatron’s frame with every passing moment. He had assumed Orion would begin the conversation with his usual courteous manners, but with the usual social expectations disrupted Megatron was left floundering for something to say.

“I apologize for interrupting if this is important alone time for you,” Megatron offered.

“It’s alright,” Orion answered wistfully. “...did you just happen to be passing by?”

“No,” the silver mech admitted, “I was looking for you.”

“Oh, I see.”

A second horrible silence hung in the space between them. Megatron covertly glanced Orion’s way and noticed the shorter mech’s digit’s fidgeting as he looked in any direction that wasn’t his. He could only curse his timing, perhaps he had overstepped despite Orion’s assurances.

“If I am making you uncomfortable, I can leave.” he stated.

“Hm? No,” Orion shook his helm, “Now that you’re here, I think you should stay.”

“Very well.”

Yet, a third silence followed his response. As if his stabilizers' had failed him, the silver mech felt directionless and a bit frantic. Should he wait for Orion to begin with his own train of thought? Or was he expected to carry the conversation in whichever direction he pleased? His spark pulse thrummed as he chose to start.

“Are you-”

“By chance-”

Both mecha stopped and Megatron huffed briefly in amusement. “You first.”

Orion nodded appreciatively, hummed for a moment, and began. “Thank you for your aid yesterday. Even if it was a short visit, it was still a nice surprise.”

“It was no burden,” Megaton assured, “I also found it to be a nice distraction.”

“Hm.”

The silver mech’s optics wandered to the stars as he scrambled to begin a new topic of conversation. However, before he could, Orion called his name with unusual gravity.

“Megatron,” the shorter mech turned his helm to properly look at the Decepticon leader for the first time. “Do you truly see me as a friend?”

Megatron raised his helm in surprise, locking optics with Orion. “What makes you say that?”

Orion’s only answer was a steely expression that had begun to dip into a disappointed frown.

“Yes!” the silver mech answered quickly, “I do, I certainly wouldn’t be seeking you out on my off-time if I didn’t.”

“That’s true,” Orion relented as he lowered his stare to his servos and clasped his digits together. “Then as friends, if I had some unsavory questions, would you answer them honestly?”

Apprehension began to build as Megatron blinked. Despite the various notions that passed through his processor, he knew there to be only one answer.

“Yes,” he concluded.

“Thank you,” Orion shifted once again, “Then I would like to ask about your past actions.”

The question made Megatron’s neck cables crawl, but he insisted on appearing unaffected. “You may have to be more specific.”

“I’ve been reviewing some of the war-time records starting this solar-cycle,” Orion admitted, “You’ve conducted yourself quite… ruthlessly during the war.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Do you deny it?”

“No,” Megatron shook his helm, “I played my part as a destructive opposition to the fullest.”

The Decepticon leader cast his gaze back over to Orion to see him frowning.

“You don’t sound very remorseful about your role.”

Megatron felt his gaze harden and his neutral expression slip as he spoke. “My conflict with the Council and their rigid system would have always ended in a ruinous conflict. My only regret is that it lasted so long.” The silver clad leader vented and lifted his sight back to the distant stars. “And that you were on their side.”

A different silence followed, only interrupted by the sound of Orion shifting his weight. When Megatron looked back, Orion’s optics burned with questions and his field emitted a clear sense of dissatisfaction.

“Even so, it doesn’t excuse the destruction of the countless cities and settlements that were razed to the ground in favor of negligible tactical advantages,” the red and blue mech argued.

Megatron’s expression didn’t soften. “They stood as reminders of the ways of old. And as far as their residents are concerned, there’s no such thing as neutrality amidst war.”

“Yet, Iacon remained untouched until the final conflict,” Orion pointed out, “As if you wanted it preserved for some unknown reason.”

“What does it matter?” Megatron suddenly snapped, “In the end, there were no sanctuaries left untouched by our actions. We all made necessary sacrifices.”

Orion blinked in surprise before narrowing his optics. “That doesn’t mean you abandon upright principles when it becomes inconvenient. You had many that relied on you.”

“It is difficult to explain my justifications to someone who was not there.” Megatron tempered his tone. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but killing your enemies with kindness isn't a viable strategy in any large scale conflict.”

“And yet,” Orion’s helm jerked towards Megatron, “it sounds as though you didn’t spare any kindness for your own allies.”

“Kindness?” Megatron repeated, “I’d suggest offering fuel and a safe habitation is plenty kind.”

“‘Safe?’” Orion echoed with a scoff, “Is that what you offered Starscream whenever he failed you?”

“What are you-” Megatron’s red optics widened as he hissed, “How do you know about that?”

Orion’s furrowed stare turned into a slight scowl before he turned away. “Common knowledge to everyone, except for myself.”

The words wounded him further, and for once Megatron didn’t have a justification at the ready as he closed his optics with a frown. There was nothing to dispute, however he had wrongly convinced himself that no one would risk their hide by telling Orion such things. He had never felt remorse for unleashing his anger on Starscream before, yet now he found himself rattled by Orion’s disdain. He studied Orion’s field and felt a mixture of anger, disappointment, and apprehension.

He had to congratulate himself, everything he had tried to avoid was now crashing down before him.

Maybe it was already too late to fix anything.

Get a hold of yourself! He suddenly chided. You haven’t lost control of everything just yet.

Megatron opened his optics and studied the stars as he reached for the right words to deliver his meaning.

“I never held Starscream in particularly high esteem. His backstabbing nature made him difficult to handle, and his antics to terminate me became tiresome. We are better off without him.”

“Or, he’s better off without you.”

A scowl crossed Megatron’s face plate as yet another bitter pause ensued. It was clear no amount of explanation would justify Starscream’s treatment in Orion’s view.

“Maybe he is. But none of that matters, now.”

“How can you say that?” Orion demanded, “Of course it matters, you’ve abused your power!”

"What?” Megatron’s helm swiveled and his optics glared a fiery red.

“You cannot deny it,” Orion held firmly, “You’ve gotten away with inflicting Starscream with extreme mistreatment for ages. In addition, you dismiss the needs of your followers. You’ve cultivated such a hostile environment around you that I appear mad in the optics of others when I attempt to defend you.”

Megatron’s retort was caught in his intake as Orion finished. Defending me against whom? But by the time he dismissed the thought and tried to formulate a proper response, every angle appeared futile. What was there to deny? ‘Hostile’ was a bit extreme, but not a far cry from what he had established. Megatron’s fumbling thoughts were interrupted by a hushed, despairing tone that undercut his mounting anger.

“What happened to you?” Orion whispered. “You weren’t like this before.”

Megatron’s field deflated, and his bared dantea returned to a grim line. His clawed fists unconsciously clenched as he returned to those old moments on Cybertron, and his choices thereafter.

“I changed according to the circumstances,” Megatron finally answered. “What I believed to have been true was shown to be false. So I adapted, and became what was necessary to achieve victory.”

Orion’s brows fell further and he wrapped a servo tightly around one knee. “It feels like we’ve lost.”

The words stung like a heavy blow. The area behind Megatron’s optic sockets stung as if an old injury had been struck. His hopes for this conversation silently withered and died. There was little left for him to say.

“I’ve disappointed you,” he mumbled.

“Yes,” Orion answered in hushed defeat. “I believed in you. I thought everyone else simply misunderstood, and I even made excuses.”

The shorter mech’s grip tightened around his knee. “But I was the one who wasn’t understanding reality.”

Megatron felt his last defenses fall and give way to regret. A new feeling emanated from Orion’s field that was tangled amongst other distressing emotions. The silver mech focused on the feeling, filtering through the despair and displeasure and found… betrayal?

Megatron’s posture slowly raised, and his optics widened in revelation. His inaction to tell Orion the truths of his past had incited doubt in him. His intentions had backfired entirely. Unconsciously, he continued to openly stare at Orion, but the shorter mech did not raise his helm or show any indication of wanting to meet his gaze.

We need to understand one another.

“When I said it didn’t matter,” Megatron croaked, “in regards to Starscream, I was not trying to insinuate my… actions were of no consequence. I was trying to pivot to say that with Starscream gone, it won’t be happening again.”

Orion finally lifted his helm and stared at Megatron expectantly, saying nothing.

“I regret disappointing you,” Megatron attempted to state with earnestness, “but with changes coming to the troops, and your presence, I can promise that changes can be made aboard the Nemesis.”

The red and blue mech said nothing, only lifting a single metal brow in question.

“Will be made,” Megatron corrected himself.

Orion hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t appear to have the spark to say more.

“I suppose it does not amount to much at this point,” Megatron huffed, “but from the beginning, I gave the order to every Decepticon that you were not be lied to. Allowing you free reign over the database was also something I ordered, which earned me some push back as a result. I will admit, I would not go as far for any other defected Autobot with amnesia.”

Megatron turned to face Orion, slightly extending his field. “I only did so because it was you. In a way, you’ve always been the exception.”

Cold blue optics melted momentarily into sapphire orbs. “But you didn’t allow me to have the complete truth.”

“No,” the silver mech agreed, “I didn’t because-”

The familiar aching of miserable memories seized Megatron’s vocoder against his will. The discomfort swelled as he reset his vocalizer and forced himself to speak once again.

“I didn’t want you to leave again.”

Megatron turned away, unable to risk a glance in Orion’s direction. His spark pulse thrummed through his lines as a sense of immediate remorse and endangerment besieged him. He internally berated himself for sounding so pathetically hackneyed when two pairs of digits grabbed his left servo.

He whipped his helm to see Orion leaning closer, his field crackling with a thick emotion he couldn’t identify.

“You tell me this now?” Orion's voice sounded like a yell in the form of a whisper.

“... Yes?” Megatron responded with genuine confusion while unknowingly shrinking under Orion’s gaze.

“For such a quick-witted bot, you can be incredibly dense,” Orion ex-vented, only removing one set of digits from Megatron’s servo.

“What do you mean by that?” Megatron growled, “Would you prefer to be despised?”

Orion chuckled softly, shaking Megatron’s resolve further. “No. I’d rather you be honest with me.”

“I see,” the silver clad leader finally allowed after a moment.

“By keeping me in the dark, you push me away.” Orion asserted. “You mustn’t hide truths from me, even if they are difficult.”

“I suppose that’s easier said than done.”

“Mutual respect is the basis for strong bonds, Megatron.” Orion’s brows furrowed slightly. “Did my request to renew our friendship fall on deaf audials?”

“No,” Megatron nearly barked in response. “The process has weighed heavily on my processor as of late. I have been doing my utmost to reflect-”

The Decepticon leader stopped himself. Sharing that event felt too sore to share just yet.

“... You’ve been reflecting?” Orion prompted.

“Yes.” Megatron recovered. “After much consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that it is essential for us to be in proper accordance in order to move forward to reclaim what has been lost. My intention to find you was spurred by this resolution.”

In response Orion blinked, his field beginning to loosen minutely. Megatron took the small gesture as confirmation to continue.

“I wish for us to be of one mind, for once. Although, I suppose we have already begun the process of yielding to the truths of our situation.”

“That is something I can agree with, and a relief,” Orion murmured.

Megatron allowed a miserable chuckle to leave his intake.

“I hope you know there is still a great amount of work ahead of you.”

Megatron couldn't help but casually scoff, “Platitudes do not trump actions, is what you mean.”

“Yes,” the red and blue mech confirmed. “But lucky for you, I will walk this path with you.”

Megatron’s attention snapped back to Orion, his field expanding beyond his control before reflexively pulling it back.

“You would choose to stay?”

“Where else would I go?” Orion remarked with a lighter inflection returning to his voice. “I’d like to be of one mind, as well.”

A small smile began to form at the edges of his expression as he retracted his digits from Megatron’s servo and shuffled to his pedes. He looked down at Megatron with his warm optics pulled at the corners. The angle made Orion appear like a towering figure in Megatron’s view.

“Until all are one,” he declared as he extended Megatron a servo.

Megatron looked at the extended servo and followed it back to Orion’s unwavering expression. The starry expanse behind Orion’s frame glimmered as if trying to entice him to accept. The silver mech closed his optics and huffed attempting to release the heat in his helm. “How trite.”

Orion’s finials lowered slightly, but Megatron didn’t hesitate to accept Orion’s servo and stand with assistance. Their optics met, holding each other’s gaze as a rare smile formed on Megatron’s faceplate. He squeezed Orion’s servo once before releasing.

“Fine,” he accepted, “until all are one.”

Chapter Text

Cycles turned to Solar cycles as the Nemesis continued its orbit of earth. While it appeared little had changed in the daily routine of the ship’s inhabitants, a paradigm shift had begun to take place within Megatron. There was a new edge to his expressions, and a unique swiftness in his movements. There was always some new problem to address or a report to review, but the silver mech seemingly welcomed the mundane challenges. It was, after all, the cost of leading such an enormous operation.

And he was delighted every time a certain ex-archivist noted his efforts.

Yet, when a certain solar-cycle had ended and he bid Orion farewell for the night, something unsavory nipped at his processor. A fragment from the vital conversation they had shared outside the Nemesis maintenance hatch.

“Where else would I go?”

Even as Megatron’s emotional status improved, Orion’s words persisted in his helm. His high spirits dampened at Orion’s words, and no distraction seemed capable of diverting his attention.

The reason for his processor clinging to the question escaped him. Today, however, he would try to identify the reason. Once inside the privacy of his hab-suite, the silver mech marched straight into the washroom and stared with darting optics at his reflection.

It is time for an evaluation.

Megatron temporarily closed his optics and recalled how Orion had proposed the question rhetorically. There was no detectable animosity in his tone, so why not dismiss it entirely?

He should be in the highest spirits! He and Orion had come to a consensus. There were no misunderstandings for the time being, and their allegiance was stronger for it. Yet, the question interrupted his thoughts once again.

“Where else would I go?”

Nowhere, I suppose.

The answer was obvious, but it did little to lift the weight on his chest. If the conversation had ended on an unsatisfactory note, Orion would have simply returned to his hab-suite. Leaving was not an option he had.

In a sense, he didn’t have a choice but to find satisfaction here, on the Decepticon warship.

Megatron’s optics opened into slits as he glowered at his reflection.

Perhaps the details weren’t important, or perhaps his cynical side simply refused to allow him to appreciate the progress made between them. The silver mech huffed and allowed his shoulders to droop.

Truths had been laid bare, but Orion did not know the entire truth. Ignorance may be bliss, but he could not maintain the charade forever.

The Decepticon leader clenched his fists and ripped his attention away from the reflective panel as he exited the wash room.

One day Orion will know the whole truth, he assured himself. For now, I will stay the course.

- - -

Orion strode down the Nemesis halls with Cyl at his side, his systems refreshed and his movements imbued with new confidence. A side smile broke though his neutral facade as the Eradicon captain continued to unleash a series of pent up frustrations. The passing Vehicons couldn’t help but stare in confusion as they passed the bizarre scene.

“… And you just had to try and talk to him, alone! You understand that not alerting me of Starscream’s presence was not just a breach of protocol, but extremely dangerous for your own well-being?”

Orion had to do his best to suppress his building laughter, “I understand your point-,”

“I’m not done,” Cyl snapped, “If you had even just sent me a simple comms message I could have been prepared. We could have caught him. You are lucky we arrived when we did, he could have carved out your spark just to advance his reputation.”

“Hm,” Orion raised a metal brow, “What would carving out my spark do for his reputation?”

“Everything. He still gloats about having terminated a restrained and injured Autobot that had one pede in the Well,” Cyl recalled dryly. “Add the ex-Autobot leader to that list and no one would ever hear the end of it.”

Orion allowed a soft chuckle to tumble from his vocalizer, which only earned him a sharp look from the shorter Eradicon.

“Glad to see you aren’t phased at all by the untimely death you could have had,” Cyl scoffed.

The red and blue mech attempted to smooth over his amusement and speak earnestly. “My apologies. I’ll be sure to alert you if such events ever arise again. It was never my intention to worry you.”

“You’d better mean what you say.”

“I do,” Orion placed a servo on Cyl’s purple shoulder plating, “If anything, I wish you had scolded me sooner. It seems you’ve been withholding your anger for some time.”

“Obviously,” the shorter mech grumbled, yet he did nothing to shake off Orion’s servo.

The ex-Autobot leader didn’t hide his amusement, allowing the feeling to roll off his field freely. In Orion’s view, today was off to a great start.

- - -

Inside the Command deck, Shockwave and Soundwave stood in silence as their attention hovered over a shared data pad. The light from the data pad screen reflected onto Soundwave’s visor as the taller scientist occasionally opened and closed additional files to display. To an outsider, it would have been a chilling sight.

In actuality, both mechs were hungrily exchanging information and finalizing details for a most important meeting with Megatron, amongst other tasks. Their fields mixed with tempered enthusiasm that was reserved only for one another.

“As you can see,” Shockwave continued, “the tablet’s repair is nearing completion. It may not be to the original crafter’s specifications, but it will function as it once did.”

The communications officer took a moment to look over the replacement parts displayed on the data pad’s screen and nodded approvingly. Shockwave savored Soundwave’s concurrence for a moment before opening the next file.

“These would be the latest schematics for two new reformatting projects. One you will recognize as belonging to Project: Armada, the other draws from our Second in Command. Please do not hesitate to offer feedback.”

The Decepticon scientist waited patiently as Soundwave studied the schematics. Aside from the monochrome placeholder paint job, there appeared to be no issues. Shockwave was certain the communications officer could ascertain that Knockout had yet to decide on a color scheme and the final helm mold. After a few moments, Soundwave nodded with no notes of his own.

“Your attention is greatly appreciated,” Shockwave thanked as he lowered the data pad. “However, I do have a lingering question of my own.”

Soundwave merely lifted his helm in acknowledgment.

“Laserbeak has not been with you all solar-cycle, from what I can tell. A diagnostic check in the med-bay would not take more than a cycle.”

The question seemed to sour Soundwave’s field ever so slightly. The two mech remained in complete silence until a message appeared in Shockwave’s comms.

.:Scouting for energon deposits:.

Shockwave suddenly understood Soundwave’s reluctance. The shrinking energon reserves were concerning to everyone aboard, hence, there was no way around it.

The tall scientist glanced to the side as an old thought resurfaced. There was once a time when he had questioned the nature of Soundwave’s relationship with his mini-cons, wondering how deep those bonds went. As the war carried on, Shockwave had witnessed first-hand how devastating the loss of those bonds were.

He readily recalled how Soundwave had suddenly gripped the communications console for balance. Without warning, the mech’s field had erupted into an uncontrollable miasma of shock and despair. It was as if an impenetrable storm had formed around Soundwave, and Shockwave could only observe in awe. Words and logic had failed him then as he overlooked the gap he was unable to bridge. So he merely stood, a statue amidst the storm.

But while Shockwave had been left to his own devices on Cybertron, something had happened. An event that had given him new insight to the weight of these bonds. However, the sharing of revelations would have to wait.

A proximity sensor rang softly, signaling to both mecha that their audience was at hand.

The entrance to the command deck slid open with its usual hiss as the two officers shifted their attention to their incoming leader. Megatron dawned his usual airs of apathy as closed the distance.

“As punctual as ever,” the silver leader greeted as he came to a halt before the console and his officers.

“Greetings, Lord Megatron,” Shockwave answered, ignoring Megatron’s comment in favor of attending to the meeting topics. “Have you reviewed the documents Soundwave provided?”

“Yes, although it appeared to be more of a behavioral report than anything else,” Megatron contended as he allowed himself to frown. “I assume you have a good reason for sending me an itemized list of what I already know to be true about our eccentric Second.”

“All will be made clear,” Shockwave proclaimed as Soundwave turned to the console and projected all of the prepared documents.

“But first, allow us to show you the strides that have been made since the last meeting.”

Megatron folded his servos suspiciously as he got a better look at the monitors which showcased 2 sets of blueprints, a typical Vehicon and Eradicon build.

“All of the current soldiers have been assessed and their most fatal flaws identified. We have reason to believe that only a partial reformat will be necessary to improve their capabilities- excluding those who have been selected for Project: Armada, and another potential run of promotions.”

Megatron’s optics darted from each of the two builds before nodding in approval, “a partial reformat would require significantly less resources. I admit, I am partial to any plans that make less of an impact on our reserves.”

“Precisely,” Shockwave droned as two additional schematics were added to the display courtesy of Soundwave.

“With assistance from Soundwave, I have been able to make considerable progress on reconfiguring the preliminary arrays of CNA for the next wave of soldiers. There will be unforeseen errors to address the closer we get to production, however this still places us ahead of our original timeline projection.”

Shockwave waited for Megatron to interject with any questions, but the Decepticon leader only nodded once after the report had concluded. “This is very good news. But I do not recall seeing this last build. This must be the additional build for another ‘potential promotion’ you mentioned?”

“Yes,” Shockwave confirmed as Soundwave dismissed the basic Eradicon and Vehicon schematics, leaving only the two newest builds on screen.

“Knockout is still finalizing miscellaneous visual features, but I can confirm the build’s functionality and viability meet our standard requirements. By the time we have procured more resources, all of the schematics should be finalized to begin the reformatting process.”

Megatron’s optics widened slightly as his gaze drifted to Shockwave. “That is exceptionally swift work. I would have expected this to still be in the drafting stage.”

Shockwave’s finals lowered slightly, “Normally, that would be the case. However, Knockout requires very little persuasion to work on projects that allow him to make cosmetic decisions. He has finished all of the design in relation to function, we only await his final verdict on their inconsequential visual flourishes.”

“Hm,” the silver mech hummed in agreement, seemingly extremely satisfied.

Good, Shockwave thought to himself.

“Now, onto the fourth build,” Shockwave turned back to the monitor. “Accuracy has been a reoccurring flaw with cold construct design since the beginning. However, with this build I hope to put that concern to rest.”

“A sniper unit,” Megatron finished, studying the rifle attachment concept in great detail before bringing his attention to the build’s silhouette. “With the same alt mode as Airachnid.”

“Correct. Flight was a natural choice for this build, while also providing the rest of the troops with much needed support in combat situations. It is plausible that the support of this unit type could result in less losses, overall.”

“Yes, yes,” Megatron nodded along, a twinge of enthusiasm coloring his tone. “I find myself quite taken to this prospect.”

“Excellent.”

There was a hesitant pause before Shockwave resumed his presentation. “I still have yet to unveil the work I have been conducting on Cybertron. Perhaps you would agree that the Deception ranks will not be lacking for much longer.”

“I may be inclined to agree,” Megatron admitted with a fiery gaze cast in the scientist's direction. “Pray tell, what might all this have to do with our Second?”

Soundwave remained completely still as Shockwave straightened his posture. The purple mech found himself wishing Soundwave could speak for himself, as the entire proposal had been his idea.

“Given the measures that are being taken to address our weaknesses, it would be best to extend the same critical lens to those in our inner circle. As you have already acknowledged, Airachnid’s contributions have been lacking at most, and unnecessary at worst.”

Megatron raised both of his metal brows slightly, but said nothing. The set of digits that originally hung at his side now rested thoughtfully on his chin.

With no protests arising from their leader, Soundwave turned away from the console to stand next to the Decepticon scientist as if silently asserting his support for Shockwave’s testimony.

“To put it simply, Airachnid is a wild factor we cannot trust. Your efforts to keep her contained have only made her restless. With the next wave of promotions in sight, perhaps it would be best to ease the transition by removing unnecessary factors.”

Megatron’s gaze hardened as he lowered his digits from his chin. “You want to replace her.”

“Her replacement is inevitable,” Shockwave countered, “Eliminating potential risks from our ranks has served us well in the past, especially so with the failed Project: Empress. We gain nothing by continuing to entertain an allegiance with Airachnid.”

“I would beg to differ,” the silver mech grumbled as if the words tasted foul coming from his vocalizer. “This is different from that incident. While Airachnid isn’t the ideal Second, it is still better to have her with us rather than against us. We can keep tabs on her every move instead of reacting to whatever scheme she would ploy against us. It is a delicate balance that served us well while Starscream was present.”

”And yet, she is the reason Starscream is now against us. Orion Pax would not have been placed in harm’s way had she made sure to return with Starscream on that mission,” Shockwave argued.

he mention of Orion had the intended effect on Megatron, causing the mech to bristle at the memory.

“Furthermore,” Shockwave rumbled, “Airachnid has made it her mission to cause Orion Pax great discomfort ever since his arrival.”

Megatron whipped his helm around and took a looming step towards Shockwave. Each word stung with a cold fury that was thinly disguised as professional disapproval.

“What do you mean?”

Shockwave said nothing. Instead he turned his attention to Soundwave who had already begun displaying a recording of Airachnid’s first interaction with Orion shortly after his arrival. Every time she stepped unnecessarily close to Orion Megatron’s armor would rise minutely as if preparing to enter combat. Shockwave observed how his leader’s field began to crackle with growing outrage as the recording ended.

To both officer’s satisfaction, the first recording was all that was necessary to illustrate Airachnid’s unworthy presence.

“You can infer that all other interactions between have been executed in a similar manner,” the purple mech concluded. “While Airachnid is careful to speak in a courteous manner, it is apparent that she takes enjoyment from treating our decoding expert as prey.”

Megatron’s armor rose and fell as he attempted to regain his composure.

“The sooner her removal is carried out, the better,” Shockwave finished.

The Decepticon leader lifted his helm, staring down at his two oldest officers with the countenance of a titan. While any other bot would have feared for their spark, Shockwave and Soundwave knew the familiar and haunting expression was not meant for them.

Finally, the titan spoke in a deep rumble.

“What did you have in mind?”

- - -

The first half of Orion’s workday had flown by with Cyl’s company. Their joint efforts had allowed them to properly reassign the all maintenance Vehicons to newly condensed units according to their skill set, and catch up on all outstanding supply deliveries that had been clogging the que. Their progress had earned them an extended break before Orion would have to return to his workstation for more decoding.

Orion and Cyl had already finished refueling and were filling the rest of their break with easy going conversation, anything and everything from their favorite times of day to their least favorite duties. Orion found himself reveling in the casualness of it all.

Two pairs of pedes and laughter interrupted their conversation, the culprits were immediately recognized to be a certain medic and his assistant. Both mecha turned their attention to the entrance to see Knockout and Breakdown brushing dirt and dust from their frames as Knockout continued his story.

“Gave him the classic slip and he took the bait! Front end first into one of those huge conifers. I finally got to see how a Mercedes bends.”

Both mechs erupted with laughter when Orion caught their optics. He unconsciously waved their direction and saw Cyl stiffen, The two colorful mechs approached the table, nodding towards Orion and Cyl as they assumed the empty seats across from the pair.

“Uhm,” Cyl stammered, his field becoming a mess of nerves Orion had never felt from him before. “I think I should take my leave-,”

“Nonsense,” Orion stated firmly, “I’m sure Breakdown and Knockout don’t mind your company.”

The two mecha stifled their remaining chuckles and nodded. Breakdown even gestured for the captain to sit back down, “Really Cyl, you're fine.”

Cyl awkwardly glanced back at each expectant mech before hesitantly sitting back down. “Um. Alright.” Orion noted his field was pulled closer and became harder to read.

Orion gave the captain an encouraging look before turning to the two newcomers. “It’s good to see you both in such high spirits. It sounds as though Knockout won another one of those street races?”

“Naturally,” Knockout purred with a stretch, “although I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to keep that information to yourself.”

“Savor it while you can,” Breakdown chided, “with how low our reserves are, we’ll probably have to start helping with the energon scouting assignments.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” the red medic scowled, “I wish my rims could clean themselves. Especially with all the dirt and dust on this planet.”

“I wish I could assume those assignments in your stead,” Orion mused, “I hope you know I would participate if I could.”

There was a brief pause as all three Decepticons appeared disoriented at the idea of Orion scouting for energon. It was Cyl who broke the silence.

“Sir, You don’t need to feel so inclined. You already insist on performing various tasks that are beneath you.”

The notion that such important tasks were ‘beneath him’ rubbed Orion the wrong way. Something in his demeanor must have said as much since Breakdown wasted no time stepping in.

“It’s not like we know the first thing about decoding, you're contributing in your own way,” the blue mech reasoned.

“Sorry if it’s not glamorous work, but Megatron and Soundwave definitely think what you’re doing is important,” Knockout concluded. “But why are we talking about work when we could be discussing anything else?”

Knockout’s remark earned him a snicker and hushed chuckle from Breakdown and Orion respectively.

“Like what? Your finish?” Breakdown offered.

“No, his,” Knockout flashed Cyl a knowing grin and pointed a sharp digit in his direction.

Orion’s field flared curiously as Cyl sunk deeper into his seat.

“Excuse me?”

”Your future finish, or frame I should say,” the medic clarified.

“I didn’t know you were seeking upgrades,” Orion remarked.

“I’m not! Not exactly,” the captain looked away as if embarrassed of the attention. Orion made sure to savor the moment, as Cyl would never appear so restless in front of his fellow soldiers.

“He didn’t tell you?” Knockout’s smirk colored his tone, “the promoted Eradicon captains are getting a new look and some upgrades. The exact details are still being decided, but they will be visually distinct from the others.”

Orion’s expression brightened as he turned to face the Eradicon captain. “Congratulations, Cyl. I didn’t realize you would be undergoing such changes as a result of your promotion.”

Cyl, however, appeared even more uncomfortable and didn’t answer for some time. Orion noted how he looked down, avoiding all optic contact with everyone and merely mumbled, “thanks. I should get going. Break’s over for me.”

Optimus raised a servo as if to try and stop him, but Cyl was already up and approaching the exit. All three remaining mecha cycled their optics in confusion as they watched him leave.

“Was it something I said?” Knockout finally asked.

“Hmm,” Breakdown rumbled, “I think he’s attached to his current frame. It’s a big change.”

Realization dawned on Orion as his servo instinctively covered his face plate in shame, a sour ex-vent escaping him. “His scars. He’ll lose them with the upgrades.”

“And he’ll look just like everyone in his squadron. He’ll have to start all over,” Breakdown added sheepishly.

Knockout rested his helm on his right servo and scowled, the thought of anyone refusing to buff out battle damage was evidently beyond his understanding.

“I mean, we could always just scratch his new frame if it would make him feel better,” the red mech suggested.

Orion shook his helm, “It’s not only about appearing visually distinct. The battle damage has a personal meaning to him. It speaks to his resilience and the burden of his kind.”

“I’m afraid it’s something we may not be able to truly understand, being that we are from the Well,” Orion concluded. His servo now resting on the table, as Breakdown and Knockout mulled over the sentiment.

“I think you’re probably right,” the blue mech murmured, “it makes sense they wouldn’t all be okay with having their parts swapped out like tools.”

The red and blue mech lingered on the cold constructs as Breakdown pulled spare energon sticks from his subspace and offered both him and Knockout a stick each. Both mecha absently accepted the snack offering.

The Well directed his thoughts in a new direction. Orion wondered if the cold constructs would feel at home on Cybertron, or if they would feel alienated on their home planet.

How strange, Orion thought. They are technically of Cybertron, despite their isolated construction.

“Hey, Orion,” Breakdown interrupted his thoughts, using his half consumed energon stick as a pointer. “Did you have a favorite high grade back on Cybertron?”

Orion’s finials perked at the question, “Yes. Visco from MaccAdam’s.”

“Oh fancy,” Breakdown chuckled, “not as fancy as Knockout’s favorite.”

The red medic rolled his optics in amusement, “Anything is fancy to you, Breakdown.“

Breakdown dismissed the accusation with a wave, but continued to smile. “You are one to talk. I’ve never met a pickier mech in my life.”

“Is that so,” Orion mused, “however, I can’t say it comes as a surprise. I’m not sure my choice of high grade would be to your liking.”

“Can’t knock it till I try it,” Knockout hummed, “is what I would say if sharing high grade on Cybertron were even possible.”

The three mech’s chuckles dwindled into a longing silence.

“Those were great times,” Breakdown allowed with a heavy ex-vent, “I wish I hadn’t taken ‘em for granted.”

Orion nodded slowly, memories of MacAdam’s replaying in his subconscious. Despite everything, the ex-archivist hadn’t fully accepted the state of his barren homeworld. He knew the truth, but he still found himself longing to return as if all of his usual locals would be waiting for him.

In a twisted way, he had no one to blame but himself. Optimus Prime had taken more from the world than he would ever know.

“Not to sound like Starscream,” Knockout began, “but if I were the one calling the shots around here, I’d leave the Autobots to this dusty rock and head back to Cybertron.”

“Agreed. But, Megatron probably has unfinished business here.”

The codes. Perhaps the sooner I finish them, the sooner we can locate whatever relics are hidden on this planet and leave.

The thought of returning to Cybertron seized Orion’s attention.

“I would hope rebuilding would be our first priority upon returning home,” Orion offered in a despondent manner.

“Right,” Knockout nodded, “it can’t all be for nothing.”

Both Knockout and Orion watch Breakdown finish his energon stick and clear his intake.

”If, uh… when we get back, I sure hope we can make some new changes for the better.”

Orion perked up, “What did you have in mind?”

“Like bigger seats in public spaces for one,” Breakdown smacks his newly freed servo on the table for dramatic effect. “Do you recall how small they usually were? It was ridiculous!”

A boisterous laugh escaped Knockout’s intake as he leaned towards Breakdown, “You just reminded me of when we were passing through Stanix, just before Fort Syc-“

“Knockout,” the blue mech interrupted, his face plate suddenly glaring daggers, inches from Knockout’s laughing frame, “Don’t you dare.”

The shorter red mech struggled to control his laughter, but Breakdown refused to step down. Orion stifled a laugh of his own, afflicted by the infectious energy before him.

”Fine, fine!” The flashy red mech surrendered, “perhaps a story to share over drinks back home.”

“There are other stories. Better stories.” Breakdown grumbled as he crossed his servos and leaned over the table.

Both Orion and Knockout couldn’t help but chuckle and exchange humored looks. Poor Breakdown, they would have to make it up to him.

“I think larger seating options are well within Megatron’s means to incorporate into reconstruction plans,” Orion offered with sincerity, “then you will be able to try MacAdam’s house blend in comfort.”

“Oh,” Breakdown blinked in surprise, “I think I will take you up on that. Assuming you’ll still have time to mess around with the likes of us in the future.”

Orion lifted a metal brow in slight confusion, however Knockout raised his half eaten energon stick as if raising a toast.

“Let’s make it official then. To future conversations over high-grade.”

Breakdown brightened further, raising a pointed digit in place of an energon stick, “To going home.”

Orion blinked, switching between the expectant looks of both mechs. Heat washed over him for a moment, but to his relief, the right words came to him.

The red and blue mech raised the remnants of his energon stick with confidence, relishing the moment.

“To new memories with new friends.”

It was now Knockout and Breakdown’s turn to blink in surprise. Yet, their expressions melted into sincere smiles that reached their optics. Orion felt their fields extend as if reciprocating the gesture, causing a fragmented memory to cross his vision.

For the briefest moment, Knockout and Breakdown were replaced with two different mecha. A smaller white speedster with racing stripes and a blue visor sat in Knockout’s spot while a bulkier red mech had replaced Breakdown. Their smiles seamlessly overlapped, stinging Orion’s spark.

The memory bots began to melt away as the present day bots responded in unison.

“Cheers!”

- - -

‘Cheers-s!’

Soundwave closed the surveillance window in his internal HUD, concluding that conversations of the Decepticon medic, assistant, and “Orion” were of no interest to him.

Instead he brought his attention back to Nemesis halls. His pedes made almost no sound as he navigated to the landing deck. A small squad of maintenance Vehicons predictably fell silent upon passing Soundwave as they made their way to the lower levels. As soon as Soundwave turned the corner, the Vehicon resumed their conversations. The slim mech could feel their relieved voices reverberate minutely through the halls, despite the distance.

Finally, the communications officer planted himself in a four way intersection just before the landing deck entrance. He briefly opened the dedicated comms channel with Laserbeak.

No new developments.

He closed the channel and subsequently began checking each of the other channels for any reports of interest. He was halfway through all of the unread updates when he identified the incoming click of pedes.

From the blanket of shadows, out stepped the elusive “Second” in Command. Soundwave noted how her optics narrowed in his direction, never leaving his frame as she maintained her pace.

“Soundwave,” Airachnid uttered in a most disappointed tone. “Stopping by to see me off, or just passing through?”

The final question was punctuated by the shorter fembot placing a servo on her hip. However, Soundwave made no effort to respond. The two mecha glared at one another for nearly half a breem before Airachnid impatiently turned away from her reflection in Soundwave’s visor.

“I can’t read minds, you know,” she hissed, “what do you want?”

With no hurry, Soundwave raised a pointed digit until it was level with Airachnid’s spark. Airachnid’s scowl loosened into a puzzled look as she followed Soundwave’s digit. For the briefest moment, she appeared almost concerned before recognition finally flashed across her faceplate.

He was pointing at her Decepticon brand.

Her scowl returned and she raised her gaze only to be met with her cross reflection once again. She withheld a growl as Soundwave lowered his servo.

“Have you come to question my dedication?”

Soundwave said nothing, keeping his field close and his visor blank. The shorter fem scowled back at her reflection in annoyance.

With no answer, Airachnid began tapping her crossed servos with a sharp digit as her optics dropped to the barren spot on the dark mech’s chest.

“No Laserbeak?” She prodded. “Oh wait, don’t tell me he’s out there patrolling.”

Despite Soundwave’s unchanging demeanor, Airachnid’s grim expression contorted into a twisted smile. She began to round the communications officer with drawn out steps. The hunter had finally found a favorable avenue of pursuit.

“You know, it really is about time Megatron had him deployed on such missions. It’s not as though Laserbeak could offer anything specialized, like Ravage or-”

Soundwave took one sudden step towards the Second in Command, his visor suddenly inches from Airachnid’s faceplate. The dark fembot did not flinch, instead a spark of competition flared in her magenta optics.

“Hm?” She jeered, pulling back ever so slightly. “Sore spot? I should really know better. If I had only one pet left, I would be just as stingy.”

Soundwave’s field flared away from him for just a click, but Airachnid noticed and bared her fangs in a contemptuous smirk.

“All this dark and silent business really isn’t your style, Soundwave. Where’s that gladiator pride? Where’s the voice of the renowned Decepticon communications officer?”

As the shorter femme spoke, she stretched her long talons out of sight and allowed the plating on her shoulders to rise.

“I’ve got a theory,” she muttered, lowering her voice as she leaned closer to the slim mech’s audials. “It’s because of them, isn’t it?”

With deft precision, Soundwave utilized the long and flat side of his servo to shove Airachnid out of his field. The movement and sudden clang of armor caught the gold and black mecha off balance, but her glare remained unwavering.

With a snarl she thrust away Soundwave’s long servo with a sharp movement.

“What else would make the great Soundwave take a vow of silence?” She hissed, “What a shame-”

Before the shorter mecha could finish her final word, Soundwave hooked his long digits around Airachnid’s neck cables and used his momentum to pin the fembot to the Nemesis floor with a forceful clang. Instead of yelping in pain, the Second in Command grinned wider, revealing her pearlescent fangs.

“There you are,” she laughed, “Attacking a fellow officer? What will Megatron say?”

Not waiting for an answer, Airachnid dug her sharp talons into Soundwave’s outstretched servo while simultaneously extending her arachnoid limbs to unleash a flurry of piercing blows to the same servo. Internally Soundwave winced from the assault, but did not loosen his grip. Fortunately, his servos were long enough to keep his opponent's blows from reaching his torso’s vital components.

He held firmly in an effort to keep his opponent from writhing free. He began to lean his weight into the hold and felt the sensitive neck cables begin to compress.

Soundwave studied the fembot’s expression as she slipped into a panic. Her optics now wide and glowing with the unmistakable flames of begrudging fury. He had seen this look countless times before and felt something deep in the abyss of his spark stir.

The distant roar of an audience long gone echoed in his helm. He waited with expectancy as his foe mustered up a final act of opposition. Every duel ended the same, and unlike Megatron, his lack of emotions prevented him from reveling in acts of violence.

With forceful precision, Airachnid concentrated her blows onto Soundwave's primary servo joint. Her second and third hit caused the blue mech’s servo to involuntarily recoil as his fuel lines were punctured and mobility components damaged. The shorter mecha seized the opportunity to take swipe with her talons, grazing Soundwave’s servo, and follow up with another darting blows from her thinner arachnoid limbs.

The communications officer parried Airachnid’s blows with his only functioning servo, and managed to grasp the last limb that dared reach for his spark chamber. With a swift motion, and unsettling crunch of metal, the limb was severed from the closest joint. Energon splattered across Soundwave’s visor and shoulder plating before splattering to the floor.

“Ahg!” The purple and gold mecha growled through gritted fangs. The moment Airachnid wasted a glance at her severed limb, Soundwave spun the limb in his digits, as if wielding the component as a dagger, and swung at her torso.

Once again, the moan of tearing metal reached his optics.

The dark blue mech had hoped to stab her directly in the sparks chamber, however Airachnid had drawn back fast enough that Soundwave’s dull makeshift weapon had carved a small canyon across her chest.

The gash was not deep enough to hit her spark casing, but it did draw energon, leaving behind an almost artistic slash over the space where her Decepticon brand has once been visible.

The view almost thwarted his disappointment in missing his mark.

Airachnid plating twitched as she gazed down at the wound in horror. It lasted only for a click before she raised her helm in challenge and snarled. Soundwave felt unfettered waves of rage unfurled from her field and crashed into his own.

“I’ll bury you so far into the depths of the ship,” she hissed with a lung, “not even Shockwave will be able to put you back together!”

The dark blue mech ignored how the shorter mecha’s threat echoed down the halls, potentially alerting others of their clash. Instead, he focused on avoiding her swipes as blows while keeping his compromised servo out of reach.

Airachnid noted him favoring his left side and chose this moment to partially transform. Despite the severed limb, she would rely on her other arachnoid limbs for increased movement.

The faintest wave of annoyance lapped at Soundwave’s processor. He had intended to cripple more limbs to prevent her from resorting to this form.

Correctly anticipating Airachnid’s use of her primary ranged weapon, her webs, Soundwave side stepped further. Airachnid’s movements became increasingly unpredictable and swift, launching shots of her webbing at every opportunity.

Soundwave quickened his pace and began an evasive dance of sorts, careful not to step in any chunks of webbing that now littered the floor around him. The taller mech took a few offensive swipes of his own, which only resulted in his opponent climbing and jumping between corridor walls.

To his disapproval, Airachnid began to put more and more distance between the two of them. Unwilling to risk his opponent retreating elsewhere, he finally tensed his functioning servo and launched Airachnid’s severed limb like a dagger in her direction. He did, however, allow his displeasure to generate extra force with his throw.

And, as expected, his makeshift dagger punctured the joint that connected Airachnid’s left limb to her torso.

Soundwave disregarded the helm splitting shriek that followed as he marched towards his hunched adversary, opening his internal HUD to prepare a ground bridge.

“I haven’t yielded yet,” he heard Airachnid hiss as she trembled to her pedes, still hunched and cradling her left shoulder.

The communications officer paid her no mind, selecting a familiar set of coordinates from the last time he ejected an unwanted guest.

“You hear me?” Airachnid panted, “I’m not-”

Soundwave closed the distance between them, interrupted her demands, and lifted her from the floor by a bundle of her arachnid limbs just as the ground bridge exploded with teal energy behind her.

“Wait! You wouldn’t-”

As if he hadn’t heard her at all, Soundwave flung Airachnid through the portal as soon as the bridge opened wide enough to consume her frame. He observed her body fall into a barren white wasteland many yards below the bridge’ exit and was satisfied only when her frame collided with the unpleasant white field. He abruptly closed the ground bridge, content with knowing her frozen corpse could be reclaimed from the frozen tundra later.

The ground bridge closed with a satisfying wheeze as Soundwave allowed a mild sensation of satisfaction to run its course though his field. Admittedly, he had not followed the original plan. However, Airachnid had made the mistake of giving him grounds for premature dismissal.

The slim mech observed the mess left behind from his engagement and assigned the maintenance team an urgent priority ticket to address the debris as soon as possible. Once completed, he turned and made his way back from whence he came and sent Knockout notice of his eventual visit to the medbay.

In the meantime, he would be reporting to Megatron ahead of schedule, and perhaps his methods utilized mattered less than the intended outcome.

- - -

Sharp and frigidly cold earth greeted Airachnid’s wounded frame as she finally made contact after free fall. The impact ruptured something at the base of her neck, resulting in her sputtering energon from her intake as she watched the ground bridge above disappear.

Slag you, she cursed internally as her HUD bombarded her with multiple windows of warnings. She winced as she dismissed various warnings until she located a summary of her system diagnostic. She had scanned about half of the report before an urgent system warning appeared.

Stasis Lock warning. Factors: Critical systems compromised, hazardous environmental temperatures, impaired armor, internal temperatures dropping. Forced Stasis lock in: 0.45 cycle.

Airachnid sputtered once again, panic setting in as she processed her situation. The acidic taste in her intake and the grievous wounds she could ignore, but she couldn’t persist through forced stasis lock.

She tried to shift to her right side, scanning the environment around her for anything that could possibly be utilized as a shelter. As if fate itself was against her, a harsh wind assaulted her frame, sending violent shivers down her spinal strut as what precious warmth she had under her plating began to fade.

Her scans revealed nothing of interest in her immediate vicinity. For miles, there were no formations bigger than herself to offer protection from the harsh elements.

Her intake made a gurgling sound as realization dawned on her. Soundwave had denied her death, just so she would meet a slow and painful end out here.

The thought repulsed her. Even she would have given him the courtesy of fighting until death claimed him from her energon drenched servos.

The shivering mecha drew her limbs close and assessed the damage on her frame. Transforming into alt-mode would be extremely painful, but she concluded it to be her only option of finding shelter and buying her some time.

Stasis Lock Warning Update. Forced Stasis Lock: 0.39 cycle.

“You will not h-have me,” Airachnid seethed, dismissing the warning.

She ran another scan of the environment, hoping to find a direction that might lead to a warmer area or offer potential shelter. However, nothing of note was gleaned from this second scan.

Defeated, she glanced at her severed limb that was still lodged into her shoulder. It would have to be removed if she hoped to transform.

With a trembling servo, she reached for the limb and closed her optics as she secured her grip. It had to be strong and fast, the less she lingered on the pain, the more likely she could make it out of this cursed climate.

Forced Stasis Lock: 0.38 cycle.

Her lines pulsed louder in her audials as she locked her jaw, and pulled.

“Augguhhg!”

Frame splitting pain sent a tremor through her lines. She unconsciously released her severed limb and put her digits over the fresh wound. Warm energon erupted from her shoulder and leaked in between her plating, it was a revolting sensation.

Airachnid’s vision blurred, her energy levels falling further.

Forced Stasis Lock: 0.3 cycle.

She willed her optics to reset, but found herself unable to do so. She tried initiating her transformation sequence, only for her components to rev and fail the sequence.

No.

Forced Stasis Lock: 0.25 cycle.

Once more, Airachnid focused what energy she had to initiate transformation, only to fail once again.

The energon trails of bleeding energon between her plating had begun to freeze.

With audials now failing, Airachnid’s consciousness began to fall into silent despair. Despite how incoherent the world around her became, she found herself sending a distress signal in an old frequency she’d always had access to. Pathetic.

Not that anyone on the wasteland of a planet would answer a Cybertronian frequency.

The act provided a strange sense of relief. It was akin to the relief one might feel after stretching. Barely conscious, Airachnid braced herself one last time to attempt transformation. Her T-con whirred to life once again as she focused, loosening stiff components where she could.

Yet, before she initiated transformation, the old frequency channel pinged to life.

‘...Authority…?’

Airachnid froze. She could barely hear the howling winds around her, yet this voice reached her clearly. The frequency felt alive, reaching towards her with warmth and concern.

Was she going mad? Is this what death felt like?

‘Authority,’ the voice came once again, ‘do you require aid?’

The message was akin to verbal comms message, but more personal and primal. Whoever this entity was, she knew deep in her spark they meant her no harm. There was no rational explanation, only a sense of this being right. She might as well have been reunited with a long lost friend, or found a missing piece of her incomplete spark.

Forced Stasis Lock: 0.2 cycle.

Perhaps going mad was better than dying.

Come to me, she commanded, assist me.

The order came out automatically as if she had done so a thousand times before.

‘As you command, Authority.’

The frequency went quiet, and Airachnid was left alone once again. She could scarcely feel the burning in her intake now as the world began to close in around her. All of her senses melted away as she slipped out of consciousness, surrendering to frigid wasteland’s will.

- - -

“Appreciate the back up, Ratchet.”

Ratchet scoffed, “If you must know, I feel strongly that you require supervision. You have a knack for finding trouble.”

Wheeljack couldn’t help but smirk, recalling how insistent the medic had been to accompany him when their sensors had picked up a likely to be an energon deposit. Everyone else had been deployed on their own missions, forcing them to leave Raphael in charge of the Autobot base and the ground bridge.

The wrecker had tried to dissuade Ratchet from joining him, pointing out that Starscream could very well be hunting for deposits as well, which only made Ratchet double down.

“I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior, Sunshine.”

Ratchet groaned, shaking his helm and choosing to follow the path to the energon deposit displayed on the tracking device he had taken from base.

Both mechs trudged through a dark forest as earth’s sun finally set. The sky’s pink and orange hues turned purple and blue the longer they traveled.

“Do you really think Starscream would be hunting for energon all the way out here?” Ratchet asked, attempting to change the subject.

“If he’s desperate, I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Wheeljack answered after a moment.

The tracking device pinged softly, the green light of the screen washing over Ratchet briefly before the medic turned off the device entirely.

“It’s up here, most likely inside a cavern,” Ratchet pointed.

The two Autobots were a few paces away from exiting the forest, when Wheeljack reached forward to place a cautionary servo on Ratchet’s shoulder. Before Ratchet could question him, the wrecker put a digit to his faceplate in a silent shushing motion.

Both Autobots focused on their audio feedback and heard shrill sound coming from the clearing ahead. As the sound began to fade, the two mech slowly inched closer while trying to remain hidden within the forest’s foliage.

Their patience was rewarded when the shrill sound returned and their optics caught the movement of a small drone hovering over a large rock formation in the center for the clearing.

Ratchet lowered his voice, “Soundwave’s surveillance drone, Laserbeak.”

Wheeljack’s metal brows furrowed, “What’s he trying to survey out here?”

“I‘m not sure,” the red and white medic admitted, “it’s unlike Soundwave to deploy Laserbeak on trivial matters.”

Wheeljack was quiet for a moment just before reaching for the tracking device Ratchet had just been holding. The medic relinquished the device and watched as the wrecker began sorting through prompts on the screen.

“The energon deposit can wait,” Ratchet reasoned, “we should follow Laserbeak and find out what the Decepticons are up to.”

“If this equipment is correct, we can do both,” Wheeljack concluded with a smile, “because he’s heading straight for the same energon reading.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” Ratchet objected.

Yet, the dark drone descended closer to the rock formation and conducted one final sweep of the perimeter before locating an obscured cavern entrance and gliding inside.

Ratchet couldn’t help but scoff.

“I have an idea,” Wheeljack announced.

“Of course you do,” the medic bemoaned.

“We need to lure him deeper into the cavern. It’s common for smaller drone’s sensors to become disoriented that far underground, within such close proximity to raw energon radiation.”

Ratchet’s expression contorted, “Okay…”

“Which means, there would be a small pocket of time in which the drone would be cut off from communications,” the wrecker explained with a mischievous look in his optics.

“And what, exactly, would we be able to accomplish in that amount of time? Interrogating a drone is pointless,” Ratchet lamented.

“I’m not in the mood to chat.”

Wheeljack opened a small subspace compartment and took out a few small vials. Ratchet leaned closer to examine, and flinched once he realized they were explosives.

“While I don’t have any trackers on me, I do have something that could give us an extra layer of insurance for the future,” the wrecker explained.

Ratchet’s frown began to melt as realization dawned on him. “While I am in favor of taking every opportunity awarded to us, harming Laserbeak would only incite action from Soundwave. It would be a minor victory, and not the one we are here to achieve.”

“Who said anything about hurting the little bird?” A wry smile spread across Wheeljack’s face plate as he returned the vials to his subspace, “situation’s ripe for an old wrecker trick.”

- - -

“Ough, reduced to seeking energon scraps.”

Starscream found himself scouring the fourth and final abandoned energon deposit on his route for this solar cycle. Night had long since fallen, and so he relied on his sensors to guide his path. His pedes ached from the long journey, and his frame longed for flight. But his disappointment outweighed all of his annoyances, for he had come up extremely short of his quota.

The silver seeker ex-vented heavily and leaned against the cave’s dark walls, fiddling with the most recently found shard of blue energon in his digits. He appreciated how the fragment glowed faintly and clinked against his sharp claws.

How the Autobots had managed to survive so long without a network of energon mines was beyond him.

Starscream took one final look at the shard and secured it into his substance. He started to ease his weight off the cavern walls when he sensed small vibrations under pede.

For a fleeting moment, Starscream feared for tremors. However, the vibrations were rhythmic, and soon realized what he was feeling was distant pede-falls from a much larger frame.

Starscream creeped closer down one of the many tunnels in the direction of the heavy pede-falls. Don’t tell me the Autobots found their way here…

The seeker peered his helm around a corner and cast out his senses, noting this unexpected visitor was stomping deeper inside the mine. Starscream followed at a safe distance, struggling to remain in the shadows as best he could.

The obscured figure finally turned into a larger chasm Starscream had yet to investigate. The seeker’s optics opened wider as he identified a glowing red visor and a hefty chunk of raw energon nestled in this mecha’s servos as they turned.

An insecticon? On earth?

Starscream dared to linger just outside the chamber, watching as the hulking Insecticon lumbered to the very back of the room and almost ceremoniously placed the chunk of energon down.

The Insecticon murmured as if speaking to another, but Starscream couldn’t make anything out from this distance. Ready to flee if the need arose, he risked entering the cavern and extending his scans further.

“…That’s plenty, you shouldn’t have…”

The exhausted sing-song voice sent a shiver down Starscream’s spinal strut. He craned his neck cables beyond the Insecticons silhouette, and his sensors confirmed his suspicions.

“Airachnid,” Starscream announced as he straightened his posture, ignoring how the Insecticon defensively turned to bare its fangs at him.

The black, gold, and purple mecha lay supported in a makeshift berth made of stone. Her magenta optics observed him curiously, lacking any alarm or concern for his sudden appearance despite her wretched state.

Her shoulder and torso plating appeared ravaged, and dried energon stained her upper half. Makeshift casts had been made from exterior plating to cover a wound on her shoulder, and another on one of her arachnoid limbs.

“Starscream,” Airachnid answered coolly, “Do not be alarmed. After all, the beast and I are somewhat related.”

A fanged smile spread across the injured mecha’s face plate, “You could even say we are of one mind.”

“Right,” Starscream stammered, trying his best not to recoil from the sight of her wounds. “Why are you here? Decepticons rarely return to stripped mines.”

“You are not the only rogue Decepticon in need of shelter,” she answered dryly, beckoning the Insecticon to step aside.

“I assume Megatron invited you on one of his ‘field trips.’”

“Megatron was otherwise engaged,” Airachnid snapped.

Oh, I’m certain he was, Starscream sneered internally.

This was indeed a surprise, Starscream had expected a much longer tenure for Airachnid as Second in Command. Usually, Megatron had a habit of permanently discharging his commanders when he grew tired of them. Starscream had been an exception to this rule, of course.

Perhaps Megatron’s loss could be to his own benefit.

“You know Airachnid,” Starscream began, “as fellow outcasts, we should consider putting aside our differences. With this creature under your control, and my resources...”

Starscream stepped closer and gestured to the space between them, “we might be able to enact revenge on our common enemy. Placing ourselves in a favorable position when the Decepticons find themselves without a functioning leader.”

“Together?” Airachnid’s optics narrowed.

“Respectfully, Airachnid,” the seeker mused, “I doubt you could do much in your current state. I have access to a medical kit that would spare you the pain of a long and harrowing ordeal of recovering alone.”

“How generous,” she ex-vented.

“In fact, I’ve been concocting a rather ambitious plan.” Starscream fabricated on the spot, “We simply need to lure Megatron away from his support systems, so that we might catch him-“

“With his guard down,” Airachnid finished, “an intriguing proposal.”

A silence followed, only filled by the insecticon’s loud ex-vents. Starscream couldn’t tell if Airachnid was interested in his offer or merely weighing her limited options.

“Or, if rejoining the Decepticon sounds unsavory, I’m sure we can work out a trade. My resources in exchange for your participation in my little revenge plot,” he offered with a slight bow.

“I do not have the slightest interest in collaborating with you,” the mecha said evenly, “but payback would be sweet.”

The injured ex-Decepticon balled her digits into fists as a deranged smile spread across her faceplate.

“However you wish to spin it,” Starscream relented with a flick of his digits.

“One question,” Airachnid hummed, lowering her helm to glare at the silver seeker, “Does this plan of yours only include terminating Megatron?”

Starscream huffed, “I suppose there’s always room for more destruction if it ultimately serves to destabilize Decepticon leadership.”

“Good. Then we have a deal,” the dark mecha returned to a lounging position as if eager to rest. “You have my frequency. Send me your finalized details, and that med kit at your soonest convenience. I assume you can see yourself out.”

Starscream’s wings twitched in relief and smiled, “pleasure doing business with you.”

And with that, the seeker spun on his heels and marched out of the cavern and into the dark tunnels. Once safely out of audial range, he began racing out of the tunnels, and immediately took flight in the direction of the Harbinger.

The primary will be pleased, thought Starscream replica 3 of 5. Though he had only awoken recently, he had every confidence that he had just proved himself over the others in the optics of his flightless progenitor.

The seeker snickered just before opening his comms.

.:Starscream ⅗ to the Harbinger. There has been a new development. I suggest we reignite talks with the Autobots:.

- - -

The dark and somber halls of the Nemesis enclosed Orion as he darted along the route that would lead him to the maintenance hatch. As usual, he was grateful not a spark was around to hear his pedes thumping along the hard floors.

The reason for his excited lumbering was a curious comms message that had arrived to him while decoding after hours. He could scarcely believe the offer and convinced himself that he had worked enough overtime for today.

The large mech slipped to a halt before the maintenance hatch, took a moment to slow his spark pulse and peer outside one of the small rounded windows. As expected, his host had been waiting for him. Orion delicately opened the maintenance hatch and he stepped out onto the Nemesis exterior without a second thought.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” Orion called out as he trudged closer to his dear friend.

The silver mech before him remained seated as he turned to flash Orion a fanged grin.

“Nonsense,” Megatron assured, “I’d only just arrived moments before you.”

Megatron’s words felt like a familiar melody, yet he knew the mech was lying about how long he had been waiting. The timestamps of his comms message did him no favors.

“Your invite was unexpected, but not unwelcome,” Orion explained as he lowered himself to sit next to Megatron, “I was hoping we would have a chance to speak again.”

Megatron lifted a metal brow, “Was there something you wished to discuss?”

“I didn’t have anything specific in mind,” Orion shrugged as he settled himself, “I simply wished to speak again. Perhaps reinvigorate old habits.”

“Hm,” Megatron huffed in amusement, “eager to find a topic we disagree on so soon?”

“Is that how our discussions usually went?” He shot Megatron a humorous side glance, “You make it sound as if we couldn’t stand each other.”

“At times, it felt that way,” the silver mech admitted.

Orion expected his friend to continue, however a moment of quiet followed instead. The red and blue mech lifted his optics to the stars beyond while his mind drifted back to discussion of old. It didn’t take long to recall the long calls, the pacing, the philosophical bickering, the clenched fists, and the blunt retorts.

Those memories warmed his spark. Megatron had been the only bot to elicit such emotional reactions out of him.

“I admit, there were times you frustrated me greatly. Even made me angry,” Orion began, “But I hope you know, I recall those memories fondly. I would give anything to go back and do it all over again.”

As he finished, Orion turned to see Megatron had been staring at him with a confounded look.

“Really?” The silver mech asked as if treading over broken glass.

“It’s true,” Orion said almost defensively, “All of the exchanges, our first face to face meeting in Kaon, even the arguments. To do it all again would mean we would be home, facing whatever challenges together.”

“… I see.” Megatron finally muttered, shifting his gaze away. “The Nemesis is no replacement for Cybertron.”

“I think you are missing my point, old friend,” Orion stated evenly, “My apologies if I came across ungrateful.”

Megatron spoke with a lack of emotion. “No apologies needed. Comparison is only natural.”

As expected, Megatron fell silent once again. If his old friend wasn’t going to help him understand what was swirling in that silver helm of his, Orion would have to investigate for answers himself.

”Megatron.”

”Yes?”

”Do you miss Cybertron?”

The question earned Orion a double take. “It goes without question that I long to return. But there’s much to recover from Earth before we can set course for Cybertron. And there’s…”

Orion watched the bigger mech hesitate for a few moments longer than anticipated, to the point where he wondered if Megatron had short circuited. Fortunately, Megatron found his stride eventually.

“…with the Autobots never far behind, we would need to have enough resources to make a show of strength at a moment's notice. Which would mean stockpiling an impressive amount of energon from a planet that isn’t exactly energon-rich.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer to Orion’s question, but instead of pursuing further he relented to Megatron’s redirection.

“Of course, you would know better than anyone.” Orion ex-vented, “I didn’t mean to question your priorities.”

Megatron’s optics reset as if thrown off course. Ignoring his own disappointment, Orion turned back to the stars. He allowed his thoughts to wander aimlessly while he lifted his servos to rest atop a raised knee.

He nearly jumped as he felt digits delicately rest on his right servo.

“I’m unsure if it’s Cybertron that I miss, or simply the way things used to be,” Megatron whispered while avoiding optic-contact.

The answer took Orion by surprise. He opened his intake to answer, but stopped himself, and instead nodded in understanding.

“I don't have the fondest memories of Cybertron,” the silver mech continued, risking a look back at Orion. “Most of my goodwill is reserved for Cybertron's potential, rather than what it was.”

Orion’s chest tightened, and something else stirred briefly within him at the mention of what Cybertron was to Megatron. For the millionth time, he wished there was a way to undo what’s been done to them both.

“I understand,” he finally said while holding Megatron’s gaze, “It was negligent of me to default to my biases. We had very different life experiences.”

A thousand silent thoughts seemed to flash behind Megatron’s red optics as his digits lingered on Orion’s servo. He waited patiently for Megatron to settle on an answer.

“Both views can be true,” the silver mech concluded, “Pray tell, what fond memories of Cybertron have made you so homesick? Besides the two of us partaking in verbal combat, of course.”

The dry delivery got a snort out of Orion that turned into a brief laugh. He also couldn’t help the twinge of embarrassment that came with Megatron’s correctly identifying his ache for Cybertron.

“Well,” Orion cleared his intake, “besides those treasured moments, most everything else is from my time in Iacon. The Archives and MaccAdam’s Old Oil House were the usual offenders.”

“A place of recreation like MaccAdam’s I can understand,” Megatron huffed, “but your place of work?”

Orion couldn’t resist a smirk, “Sorting and filing through endless amounts of information had its benefits. It led me to catching wind of a certain gladiator making waves in certain circles.”

“Yes, of course,” Megatron mirrored Orion’s expression with a smile of his own, “I sometimes forget how insubordinate you were in neglecting to report me to your superiors. But then I recall how you are still participating in menial supply deliveries with Cyl, despite my disapproval, and realize you haven’t changed.”

Megatron ended the playful indictment by firmly gripping Orion’s servo as if not allowing the guilty party to escape. Orion’s field flared briefly as his bashfulness came and went. He had no regret for his actions, but the act of getting caught so soon did surprise him.

“Oh, you noticed,” he managed under his friend’s scrutinous gaze.

“Of course I did. You didn’t seem to be making an effort to hide your activities regardless,” Megatron growled and released Orion’s servo, “I blame your previous employer for failing to discipline- what-”

Megatron was cut off by a jab to the waist, flinching, as the shorter mech pointed a lighthearted digit inches from his faceplate.

“I’ll have you know, Alpha Trion was the best teacher any bot could ask for. I’ll not have you slandering his reputation for my shortcomings,” Orion asserted as he returned his servos to his knees.

“Most certainly,” the silver mech chuckled with servos raised in mock surrender, “I have been sufficiently educated on Alpha Trion’s nondescript virtues. It won’t happen again.”

“Good, and when we get back I’ll be sure to properly introduce you to him,” Orion shifted an intense gaze outwards towards the starry expanse, “I’ve put in plenty of good words for you, but I think he needs to meet you in the metal to be properly convinced of your character.”

Orion felt Megatron’s field blank as if he had vanished. He turned back curiously to see Megatron frozen in place.

“Right. Yes,” Megatron sounded as if he were grinding his words, “He could very well still be hiding himself away.”

A new wave of embarrassment washed over Orion as he put the pieces together. “I… I’d like to hope so.”

Orion slumped over his knees and put a servo on his helm, ex-venting in frustration.

“That was a slip of the mind. Considering the state of Cybertron, I know survivors are unlikely. And yet, I still can’t help hoping that not everything has been left to ruins.”

The red and blue mech pulled his field close and tried to ignore the thought of his mentor lying in the rubble of a great structure long since compromised. Or worse, that he would return to find a mutilated and greyed corpse in the wreckage of Iacon.

Who else would I find in the ashes?

He hadn’t realized the grip on his helm had been tightening until both began to ache from the pressure. Then a low rumbling from Megatron brought him back to the present.

“You miss Cybertron a great deal,” the silver mech spoke with unexpected warmth.

Orion tore his gaze away with a small helm shake, “I’m letting my emotions get to me. I need to be present.”

A warm field extended to reach Orion’s before Megatron’s sharp digits firmly clasped around Orion’s wrist. The shorter mech looked up to see Megatron surveying him with a slight desperation. His optics scoured Orion’s expression as if hoping to read his thoughts.

“I don’t recall asking you to harden your spark,” Megatron murmured, “You miss Iacon, what else?”

“I, I simply,” Orion stammered with furrowed brows, “I want to do more than locate relics. I want to fix, or better yet, attempt to restore what’s been lost. Even if it’s something small. I have to make up for lost time, and all the hurt we’ve caused.”

“Is that why you are so eager to add other tasks to your workload?”

Orion didn’t answer.

“You want to feel like you’re helping in a more direct manner.”

The red and blue mech frowned, his optics slits contorted at the corners. He nodded slowly, optics fixed down on Megatron’s servo gripping his wrist.

The Decepticon leader hummed thoughtfully and shifted his outstretched servo. Orion’s optics widened as the silver mech’s battered palm turned to face his palm and his digits curled around his own until they were clasped together in a handshake of sorts. His old friend’s field began overtaking his own- feeling the warm blanket of assurance and acknowledgment drape over him.

“As soon as our relic hunt is over, we will return to Cybertron. Rebuilding will be our primary objective.”

Orion’s optics fluttered in disbelief as they reset, “but the reserves-”

”Will be replenished one way or another,” Megatron settled, “Perhaps I’ve grown complacent with my priorities. Who better than you to challenge and remind me?”

With metal brows raised, Orion felt a surge of optimism blossomed from within. His lines pulsed in his audials and he unconsciously straightened.

“Truly?”

Orion felt Megatron squeeze his palm and tilted his helm closer.

“We will do it. Together,” Megatron pledged.

Orion allowed his emotions to take control as he closed his optics and leaned forward until their fore-helms touched softly. He thought his spark would stall at any moment.

“Together?” He whispered.

“You have my word.” Megatron answered with ease, “With our different perspectives, I’m sure we can improve upon what used to be.”

Orion’s spark soared. We’ll do it together, he repeated to himself. No more surprises.

“Thank you,” Orion choked.

“Now,” Megatron awkwardly retracted his servos and began to stand, “I think you’ve earned yourself a rest. Lest you try to prolong the conversation to deny yourself even more recharge.”

Orion mocked a pouting expression “And here I was thinking we had just started an eventful conversation.”

Instead of rolling his optics, Megatron extended both servos to Orion and pulled him to his pedes.

“Orion, I need you to let me help you. Clearly, you refuse to help yourself and rest.”

Once standing, Orion released Megatron’s servos, “Will you escort me to my quarters and deliver my personal rations next?”

As expected, Megatron released an exasperated ex-vented and put a servo on Orion’s shoulder as they made their way to the maintenance hatch, “Don’t push your luck, Pax.”

“Resuming formalities? How cruel,” Orion whined.

“You don’t know cruel,” Megatron countered while politely opening the hatch for Orion to enter first.

Orion turned on his heel for dramatic effect as he watched Megatron enter behind him and close the hatch with ease.

“I’m not in dire need of recharge. Perhaps you’re the one that’s tired and needs a rest? I am merely a victim of circumstance, getting my long awaited debate cut short for your recharge.”

Megatron put his fists on his hips and eyed Orion with amusement, “Interesting theory. Perhaps you would like to prove your claim by displaying your energon levels?”

“What?”

Megatron folded his servos with a knowing smirk.

Orion ex-vented in exasperation and began walking away, in the direction of the hab-suite block. “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Really?” Megatron caught up to Orion with ease, “because if your energon levels were at, say, 40% or above then you may very well have a case against me.”

Orion’s faceplate burned as he picked up his pace, “40% is unrealistic for anyone at this hour, you know that.”

Megatron rounded Orion with only a few steps, “Fine, perhaps 35% will do. Now if you please-“

Orion sidestepped the silver mech and slid into a jog, “I think you are being uncharitable.”

There was a corner in sight, only a few more paces and Orion could turn the corner and step into a sprint to outrun Megatron before he could turn the corner and realize what was happening.

“No I believe I am being quite patient with your antics, Pax,” Megatron growled, behind him, “disclose your energon levels.”

“Oh I can assure you, I’m around 35%. Or so.”

Orion heard the silver mech pick up his pace behind him, and his own lines quickened with playful urgency. The corner was not far now, perhaps only 3 more paces and he would be free from his pursuer…!

“Auhh-!”

Just as his body began to shift around the corner, Orion was pulled back around the corner with shameful ease. His pedes stumbled to find purchase while his back landed with a thump against Megaton’s chest plating. The Decepticon leader had successfully pulled him into a subdued side hug, while his right servos was pulled outwards by the wrist. The underside of his servo, where his plating could be parted to display a screen with his energon readings, was orientated upwards to align with Megatron’s view.

“Energon levels, please,” Megatron asked with mocking politeness.

“You can’t be serious,” Orion protested while trying to fidget out of Megatron’s hold, to no avail.

“I’ve never been more serious,” the silver mech murmured, “you’re not getting out of this until you show me.”

Orion closed his optics in defeat and let his helm dip before wordlessly parting his inner servo plating to reveal a sleek screen that reported his energon levels. Even with his optics closed, his HUD had been pinging a low fuel alert.

9%.

There was a pause before Megatron growled and nearly thrust Orion’s servo away from him in anger.

“You’ve been skipping.”

Orion’s finials lowered in guilt as he opened his optics, “I wouldn’t say-“

“You’ve been making deliveries and neglecting your own rations!” Megatron interrupted with a roar, causing Orion to shrink further.

A sound like a nervous chuckle tumbled from Orion’s intake, as usual, Megatron was correct.

“Well, it’s not as though we have energon to spare, like you previously shared. And those out in the field burn though energon faster than those of us aboard do so-”

“Orion,” Megatron gripped both of his shoulders firmly, staring directly into his optics. His voice was laced with commanding urgency as he spoke, “we are not so destitute that you need to starve , do you understand me?”

“I do understand, however-“

“No, you do not!” Megatron growled, “This is unacceptable. Your lack of fieldwork doesn’t make you less worthy of rest and fuel. You are important.”

Orion’s optics widened briefly before his demeanor hardened with a stubborn frown. Despite the compliment, insecurity warped into frustration as he thought of every way in which even a simple maintenance Vehicon contributed more than he did. For Primus’ sake, Soundwave could probably decode the Iacon database with enough time- and where would that leave me?

The red and blue mech has begun to fidget with irritation. He struggled to find the right words, but his feelings had begun to poison his previously bright field.

“I don’t think I am,” was all he could manage.

Megatron reset his optics in surprise before furrowing his brows and rasping, “Do you hear yourself? Do you really think you're undeserving of basic necessities?”

“After everything Optimus had done I don’t think-”

“Orion, stop. Nothing good will come from that line of thinking.”

“I can afford to skip,” Orion bristled, “It’s not so important that you need to get so angry-”

“You are important to me!” Megatron bellowed.

Time seemed to stop, and Orion could only stare back in blank confusion.

“You could be paralyzed from the helm down, incapable of any kind of contribution, and I would still be horrified to know you neglected fuel. You could be mangey turbofox, and I would still insist you be given generous rations.” The silver mech explained with increasing desperation.

“You could have absolutely nothing to contribute, and I would still insist you be treated with the highest regard. Could I make myself any clearer?”

The last question was delivered with unexpected warmth.

“You can’t mean that,” Orion stammered in disbelief.

“Your contributions are irrelevant. I’m afraid my care for you is without condition,” the silver mech pressed.

Heat returned to Orion’s face plate as he processed Megatron’s words.

“Oh,” was all Orion could muster for a moment. He lowered his helm bashfully and replayed Megatron’s phrases over and over. His world began to shift, and he began to wonder if he really knew anything anymore.

“I hadn’t, I didn’t…”

Megatron ex-vented, and stepped closer, wrapping his servos around Orion’s torso and enveloping him into a warm hug.

Orion stiffened, his optics melted, and he wrapped his own servo’s around the silver mech’s neck cables. He closed his optics and lowered his helm, squeezing Megatron back as his spark pulse increased. He let his field speak for himself; relief, gratefulness, affection.

Something within Orion broke, allowing long harbored emotions to flood from him. It was a combination of confusion, tenderness, and hunger that made him almost dizzy.

“I didn’t know,” Orion stammered, internally cursing how his emotions made his words sound thick and congested.

Megatron rubbed Orion’s back plating delicately, “I thought I had told you before. You’ve always been the exception.”

Orion buried his helm further, attempting to hide his face, “I didn’t know the depth of your… regard for me.”

“… I apologize,” Megatron whispered.

Orion made no effort to move, choosing to remain where he was and soak up every emotion he could from Megatron’s field. For once, they were more than just grief stricken vessels from a war long since fought. Orion’s bashfulness melted away like snow in thaw as he clung to his old friend.

With great reluctance and delicate motions, both mech released their hold on one another. Their optics searched each other as if searching for wounds. Finally, Orion spoke with all the vigor of a freed soul.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Like a gentle breeze, Megatron brushed Orion’s cheek with one of his silver digits, smiling as innocent as a newborn spark.

“It seems as though I will have to escort you to your quarters in the end, and personally deliver your rations from now on,” Megatron joked dryly, “interesting how you tend to get your way around here.”

Megatron retracted his digits and stepped back, ready to lead the way once again.

“Hmm,” Orion hummed as he rested a pair of digits on Megatron’s upper servo as they began to walk in step. “I’m grateful.”

Megatron said something too quiet for Orion to hear and shook his helm. “You’re welcome, I suppose.”

They walked in comfortable silence, until a thumping sound was heard coming from the direction of the hab-suite block. Unconsciously, Orion removed his digits from their resting place on Megatron’s servo. At the same time, Megatron straightened and his demeanor shifted into something that feigned professional. Orion began to wonder who could be up at this hour, but he soon had his answer when the mystery ‘Con’s lamentations turned from a low growl to a snarl that echoed through the halls.

“Unbelievable. This has got to be some kind of workplace violation! He’s most certainly fine! This could have waited until after recharge…”

Both Orion and Megatron slowed to halt to allow the red medic to pass into a different corridor while keeping themselves safely out of view. Knockout’s lamentations faded along with his unnecessarily loud stomping.

The two mecha made optic contact and chuckled.

“That was a close one,” Orion joked.

“Too close,” Megatron agreed with a fanged grin, “A rogue medic at this hour? Quickly, we must get you to the safety of your hab-suite.”

Orion struggled to stifle his laughter with a servo over his faceplate as Megatron ushered him forward, pretending to resist.

Recharge didn’t sound so bad, especially in his current state. If tomorrow was promised to be another exhausting day aboard the Nemesis, then he couldn’t wait to begin the solar cycle anew.

Orion’s spark brightened in his chest. Every passing moment would bring them closer to home. Closer to change.

It felt like the road to repair lay before him, as clear as crystal.

And Megatron promised they would do it together.