Irradia strolled out of the apartment supremely confident, carrying herself as if she knew exactly where she was going. Which she sort of did. She had a fair idea where Ultra Magnus's office was supposed to be located, but she had to admit it was possible it had moved. On the other hand, she was hoping her act would fool the guards enough so they would let her go without question. She didn't relish the thought of meeting Magnus with an escort, not with what she had to tell him. Unfortunately, the plan didn't work.

"Hey, whoa, where do you think you're going?"

"To Lord Magnus's office . . . not that it's any of your business."

"You can't just wander around, Decepticon," the lean blue warrior growled, a sneer evident in his tone. Irradia lashed out, backhanding him with a growl of her own. She immediately regretted it as she felt Neo's rifle nestled against the back of her neck.

"You think you can defect and then just waltz on back in here like you never left? Just how stupid do you think we are, traitor?"

"I don't have to answer to you," she hissed.

"Wrong answer," Neo growled, jabbing her with his rifle. Her world lurched sickeningly, then steadied, leaving her with the realization that Neo was a telepath. She tried to shield her thoughts, but a little voice whispered that it was already too late. She braced herself, waiting for his anger. He whipped her around with a vicious jerk on her arm, then lashed out at her with a powerful backhanded blow that sent her sprawling across the corridor. His optics blazed like twin blue fires, filled with rage.

"Crosswise, call Variance. I'm taking this piece of trash to the arena holding cells."

"Neo. . . ."

"You do, and you'll be replacing me by the end of the cycle," Irradia muttered, dabbing at her split jaw with the back of her hand. She was leaking energon gel like a sieve, which was hardly comforting.

"I won't fall for your tricks, Irradia."

"You've seen my memories, you know what I know. If he wanted me in the pens, I would be there already. Who are you to order my death when he hasn't?"

Neo glared at her, his finger twitching over the trigger guard of his rifle. She could tell he still wanted to watch her die slowly for betraying the Empire. But the threat of Lord Magnus's ire was never something to be considered lightly.

"Neo! What the pit is going on here?"

Irradia risked a glance, relief flooding her systems at the sight of Variance. The dusky blue tactician stood in the middle of the hall, disapproval clear on his face. Instead of waiting for his partner's response, however, he walked over to Irradia and offered her a hand up. She accepted it with a grateful smile, letting him pull her to her feet. He studied her a moment, and then she felt a faint nibbling presence. She quickly shielded herself, stepping away from Variance.

"This is not your concern, Variance," Neo growled.

"Then why call me? Come. I believe there is an opening in First Aid's schedule."

"I'll take her. You can stay here."

"No, you stay here, Neo," Variance replied, his voice almost a hiss. "Think of it as prepayment. You can thank me for sparing you from First Aid later."

Irradia quietly noted the looks exchanged between Variance and Neo. She was surprised, but hid it quickly. It was none of her business what they did. More importantly, she was tired of dripping her vital fluids onto the floor.

"I'll get you for this, hussy," Neo hissed.

"You even try and I'll make you wish you hadn't," Variance snapped, gently steering Irradia down the corridor towards the medical ward. She snuck a sidelong glance at her unexpected champion, curious at the sincerity she found in him. She remembered Variance only faintly from before, one of Hot Spot's elites. He did nothing to stand out, being neither overly successful, nor particularly bad. In fact, she remembered Hot Spot remarking once that his very lack of remarkable scores was what made him stand out the most. Obviously something had changed in the intervening vorn. She wondered just what had sparked the fire of interest in him.

Perhaps I'll have to find out later, she mused. But first things first. Business before pleasure, after all.

First Aid glanced up as the doors to his domain hissed open. Surprise flickered through his thoughts at the sight of Variance and Irradia. Annoyance followed swiftly thereafter when he saw the slowly oozing cut on her jaw.

"What happened?"

"A . . . misunderstanding with Neo's hand," Irradia murmured.

"I thought your people were supposed to be protecting her, not beating her up," First Aid growled at Variance. Groove's young lieutenant had the grace to look apologetic. Irradia, on the other hand, appeared genuinely startled. First Aid filed that tidbit, making mental note to ask her about it later.

"It will not happen again."

"It had better not, unless you want his lordship after you," First Aid grumbled. Not that he was truly annoyed with Variance, or even Neo for that matter. Neo had a tendancy to become brittle and sharp-edged when stressed. And with Irradia in a rather anomalous position . . . accidents and misunderstandings were bound to happen.

"I hope you're not in a hurry, Irradia."

"How long can it take? It's just a split seam . . . isn't it?"

"He broke one of the plates and stressed the endostructure. It's a fairly simple repair, for cosmetic surgery, but it will take time to manufacture a replacement plate."

"I can live with a scar, you know."

"And what will you say when Lord Magnus asks for an explanation?" he asked quietly. "Once I have the plate, replacement will only take a couple of breems."

First Aid watched her expression, silent memories nagging at a corner of his awareness. She would never have countenanced a scar before leaving. Any imperfection could weaken her position, or so she had always claimed.

After a moment, Irradia sighed heavily and shook her head.

"I'll think of something. He'd notice anyway. Just fix it. I'll come back later for the replacement. I've wasted enough time as it is."

"Very well," he murmured. In less than a breem, she was gone. But the strong flavor of her presence lingered.

She's doing it again already, he thought to himself with quiet surprise. Gathering her champions like a harem. I wonder who will win the favor of personal body guard this time. . . .

"I can't believe you could be so cruel."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Starchaser hissed sharply as she stepped forward. Anger masked the pain in her torn up leg, but only just. She vowed as soon as she was done talking sense into her idiot brother, she was going to see about getting a medic. And to the pit with her brother if he didn't like it!

"After everything she's sacrified for us, you spit on her efforts. Some noble paladin you make!"

"She's betraying the cause! And for what? A free ride with that . . . that homicidal maniac?"

"We don't know that."

"She admitted it. Now come on, we're getting out of here."

"No. We aren't. You can, but I'm grounded. You . . . you better go."

"I'm not leaving you here, Sis."

"That's a nice thought," she replied with a faint smile, "but not very practical. If you're right, Mom'll tell someone about the cloak soon. If you're getting out of here, you have to go now."

"I'm not leaving you. What sort of protector would I be if I left you behind?"

"I'm not helpless, Bro. Please . . . just go. Before it's too late. Before they kill you."

"I'll save you, Star. Just stay alive. I'll find a way to free you, just stay alive."

Starchaser watched him cloak. She listened carefully for a moment, then keyed open the door. Counting silently for a time, she waited long enough to be sure he was out before walking out herself.

"And where do you think you're going?" the charcoal warrior growled.

"N-nowhere . . . I . . . I just wanted to know if it was okay to see a medic. My leg's all shot up and it hurts to walk on it. That's all, honest!"

Starchaser fidgeted nervously; the way both warriors were studying her was worrying. But at least she knew her brother was safe. They were so intent on her, there was no way they could have noticed him leaving. She'd hardly noticed and she'd been listening for the slightest hint of sound.

"Better take her up to First Aid, Crosswise."

"Me? Well, okay, if you're that afraid. . . ."

"I'm not afraid, you . . ." and Neo trailed off with an inarticulate growl. Starchaser watched the two warriors square off, and for a moment she thought they might brawl right there in front of her. Then the one called Crosswise stepped backwards. Bowing his head, he offered his rifle to Neo. The charcoal warrior's optics narrowed briefly as he studied his opponent. Then he snatched the rifle away, backhanding the blue warrior. Starchaser flinched at the power of the blow, but Crosswise absorbed the punishment without a sound.

"Make sure he doesn't go anywhere," Neo growled at his partner. He then grabbed Starchaser's hand and all but dragged her down to the medical ward. By that time, the faults from her damaged wings and right leg were making her head hurt.

"Well, well, well . . . I thought you'd be sensible enough to stay out of here awhile longer after the stunt you pulled."

"She needs medical attention," Neo grumbled, shoving her forward. Starchaser stumbled off balance, the damage and pain catching up with her. She managed a few wobbly steps, then collapsed at First Aid's feet. She'd never felt so embarrassed before in her entire life.

"Right, that's it. Call in a relief, Neo, you're off duty for the next quartex."

"I'm fine," the telepath hissed.

"Keep arguing, and I'll make it a full lunar cycle," First Aid shot back. Neo grumbled, then stalked out of the room.

"Now then, why don't we take a look at you, hmm?" the medic offered, gently clasping her elbow. She smiled, relieved at the prospect of no longer being in pain.

First Aid helped her to the nearest medical berth, offering his support as she settled onto it. He patted her leg reassuringly, then moved beyond her, presumably to gather his tools. Worry flashed through her; she'd heard horror stories about Autobot medics who experimented on their patients. The warriors here trusted him, but that meant little inasmuch as she was a Decepticon.

Alert sirens blared to life for a couple of seconds, offering a well-timed distraction from her dark thoughts, then fell silent again. Starchaser could almost feel her fuel pump pounding in her audios as real fear held her tight in its icy grip.

Alert sirens. Did they catch him? Was he right all along? Oh Primus, please keep him safe!

"W-what's going on?"

"Probably just a glitch," First Aid soothed. "Relax. You're in good hands. Mine."

"Is she secure?"

Starchaser flinched at the harsh commanding tone in Groove's voice. First Aid looked up briefly, a soft snort escaping him.

"She can't even walk, Groove. Go, catch him."

"Him?" Starchaser asked, surprised to hear her question echoed by Groove. First Aid ignored her as he gazed back at the commander a moment before tapping the side of his helmet.

"I'm not deaf you know. Or did you forget I carry the rank of field commander? Now go!"

Groove smirked, then vanished.

"W-what. . . ?"

"You'll know soon enough. In the meantime, take a nap."

She started to protest that she wasn't tired when she felt a cold pressure at her neck. Her systems immediately began to cycle down to recharge mode. Bastard, she thought icily, then soothing oblivion claimed her.

Irradia hurried through the corridors with Variance. Thanks to Neo, she had lost enough time that it was quite likely that Sunrunner was out doing recon with his cloak. If they hadn't just left. She caught a part of her actually praying they were long gone. She only wished she could silence her conscience and it's nagging reminders that there was no hiding from the Empire.

"Irradia, I know. . . ."

"You know nothing, Variance," she spat back, cutting him off. The last thing she needed was this youth telling her to calm down.

"Whoa, hold it there. You can't just go barging in there."

"Streetwise? Look, this is an emergency. I have information vital to the security of the Empire."

Streetwise studied her intently, as if he was trying to read the truth from her very spark. She fought valiantly to reign in her impatience, but it was a struggle. One that she was sure was telegraphed to the espionage expert in every move she made.

"Go on," he said quietly. Irradia flashed him a grateful smile, then hurried past him. Silence dropped like a hammer when she walked into the room, Ultra Magnus's optics alive with azure fire. She flinched at his irritation, but she also knew he would understand.

"This had better be important," he rumbled.

"Forgive the interruption. I have information I must share with you."

"Then speak," he commanded darkly. "If it is this urgent, then I presume the entire High Command needs to know of it, yes?"

Irradia flicked her gaze around the room. Duostrike looked as irritated as she ever remembered, while Hot Spot, Chronotrigger, and Morpheus appeared more impassive. She stifled a sigh; she had hoped to tell Magnus privately.

"As you wish. I have reason to believe your son will try to escape. He may well have done so already."

"You interrupt a meeting of the High Command for this?!" Duostrike demanded coldly. "He cannot possibly escape. Stop wasting our time, traitor."

"He can and he fully intends to do so," she hissed back, pleased to note the irate reactions his comment roused in the rest of the High Command. "Both Starchaser and Sunrunner possess an experimental cloaking device, one that's proven devastatingly effective."

Duostrike growled angrily, flicking the alarm switch to active. Ultra Magnus deactivated the alarm almost immediately. Hot Spot, meanwhile, backhanded Duostrike with all the power of someone who had been waiting for an excuse for orn.

"Fool!" the Mercury commander general hissed darkly. "Now he knows we suspect him. Irradia, I assume you know the counter to this cloak?"

"There is only one - telepaths. The cloak will fool your sensors, but it won't mask his thoughts."

"Morpheus. . . ."

"We are already searching."

"Very well. Duostrike, you already have your assignment. Chronotrigger, sweep to the north. Hot Spot, sweep to the south."

"By your command," the three generals chorused, fists striking chestplates with dull thumps. They rose smoothly, filing out of Magnus's office; Morpheus was already gone. Variance offered his hand, apparently intending to escort her back to First Aid.

"Irradia, a moment."

She nodded, watching as he waited for the door to hiss shut behind Variance. A soft click and the privacy lock was engaged. He came around the desk, his gaze intense. Irradia felt frozen in place, unable to look away.

"Why? He might have succeeded and escaped if you had kept silent."

"In time you would have learned the truth anyway," she sighed. "More, he is your son. You would not let him simply disappear; he's too dangerous to you. You would find him, and it would only be that much worse for him when you did."

"He will know it was you who betrayed him," Magnus murmured, cupping her cheek. A frown tugged at his mouth as his fingers found the fresh scar.

"Did he do this?"

"No. That . . . it was a misunderstanding."

"Who?" he demanded, his voice brittle.

"Does it matter?" she countered, looking away.

"Yes. Who?"

"Neo. But he's already been relieved of duty. He needn't be punished further."

Ultra Magnus grunted, making no other comment. A chill shook through her, leaving her feeling cold and alone. Hesitant, she stepped closer to him, anxious to feel contact with someone. If he even noticed, he gave no outward sign.

"You swore he would be spared," she murmured.

"That was before he tried to escape," he reminded, his tone surprisingly gentle.

"He is your son."

"I am not prepared to kill him yet," Magnus confessed. "If only because killing him would only make him stronger."

She shivered at the impersonal way he spoke. As if Sunrunner was nothing more than another Decepticon prisoner. For the first time, she felt like an alien, trapped in a world beyond her comprehension. How could I have been such a fool? How could I think I would ever fit in here?

Ultra Magnus clasped her chin, tilting it up to meet her optics. She was shocked to see pain lingering in his sapphire gaze.

"You have done this to him, Irradia. You made him a Decepticon. I have no choice. He will either turn or die. The choice is his."

He's right. My foolish pride did this, she realized, numb with shock at the anger and frustration she saw in Ultra Magnus. Shame wrapped it's sticky tendrils around her, chilling her to the core, and she looked down at her hands.

"He won't turn," she murmured. "We made sure of that. I'm sorry."

"We shall see," Magnus replied, drawing her close. She could feel a slight tremor shake through him, and then he was once more solidly in control. She leaned against him, mentally wrapping herself in his strength.

Faith. That's what Octane always said. Our faith would be our greatest strength. But I don't even know where to place my faith anymore. He always put so much stock in faith and love. But Magnus . . . he's so different. How can I put my faith in him?

You love him, don't you? a tiny voice whispered.

Of course I do, she thought immediately, surprised at the voice.

Then what more do you need? the voice queried, a soft chuckle echoing through her thoughts. She frowned, confused and uncertain. While she'd had many arguments with herself in the past, this was the first time she had heard that voice.

"Something wrong?"

"This room is shielded against telepaths, isn't it?"

"The damper's switched off; Morpheus dislikes meeting with it active. Why?"

"Curious, that's all," she murmured, trying to put the memory of the voice out of her head. Maybe it was right, maybe she was thinking about this too much. Either way, she had no desire to rouse Ultra Magnus's suspicions. If he knew she had any doubts . . . she shivered at the thought. Then he surprised her yet again as he folded his arms around her.

"If you're cold, perhaps you should see First Aid again."

"I'm fine, really . . . just. . . . I dunno, I just. . . ."

"Feel alone? Confused? Isolated? Your whole world has been turned around in a very short time. It will take time to readjust."

He gently tilted her chin up once again, sapphire optics glowing warmly.

"No one expects you to be the model Autobot overnight, Irradia. You are my Consort. Take advantage of the privileges of that rank. Do nothing for a time . . . or at least nothing more strenuous than selecting a new bodyguard. I'm afraid you cannot have Hot Spot again; I will need him at my side whenever Lord Prime visits."

She offered him a faint smile, nodding slightly. A deep sigh echoed through his chest, his fingers trailing along her cheek. She switched off her optics, willing herself to forget her son was in any danger. She didn't want to think about him anymore. Fortunately, Ultra Magnus still remembered exactly how to read her body language . . . and was more than willing to provide her with a distraction.

Sunrunner swore silently as alarm klaxons blared to life around him. He had hoped to be off-world before anyone noticed he was gone. But this place was a maze in the worst sense. At least I finally found an exit, he growled silently, stalking towards it.

He froze as silence suddenly descended upon him. Silence and a burning desire to be gone. He checked his sensors again, but there was no one. Sunrunner burst into a run just as he noticed someone stepping off a lift. Cursing his poor timing, he rushed outside, transforming quickly and taking to the air.

Relief swept through him as he climbed higher into Cybertron's tenacious atmosphere. The hushed whisper of his gravitic drive would be lost in the sounds of the city. Soon, very soon, he would be free of this planet, free of the Empire's smothering presence.

The thought of freedom was at once exhilarating and sobering. He still didn't know where he could go. And the thought of leaving his sister behind angered him. But what choice did I have?

Morpheus tracked the mental signature of Ultra Magnus's son easily. The Decepticon's anger flared, like a beacon in the sky, and, for a moment at least, every telepath in Iacon knew exactly where the arrogant flier was.

Track him, nothing more, Morpheus sent to the city's telepaths. Silent affirmations flowed back to him. Accelerating swiftly, he kept close behind his quarry. But it was becoming obvious that Sunrunner would not be in Cybertron's atmosphere for much longer.

So much for crashing him outside the city, he thought sourly. Transforming, Morpheus gathered a ball of mental energy within himself. He waited as long as he could, then lashed out at Sunrunner.
 

Pain. Unutterable pain screamed through every circuit in his body. Angry red faults flashed across every subsystem. The cloak crackled and died, but that was the least of his worries.

Sunrunner clawed through the haze of pain, desperately trying to stay airborne and upwardly mobile. With a sickening lurch, his neural net exploded with pain messages. Then everything froze. He couldn't move, couldn't transform, couldn't even fire. Gravity asserted itself rather suddenly with the howl of air rushing past his audios. His gyroscopes rattled in their housings as he came to an abrupt halt, twelve stories up. Once again Sunrunner tried to manuever, but the telekinetic that held him in place wasn't letting go for a micron.

Then, as suddenly as he'd stopped, gravity once again demanded it's due, slamming his body into a second story skywalk. The glass of the skywalk shattered, leaving only an adamentium alloy frame. Gravity shrieked with glee, pulling inexorably on his fuselage, leveraging all of his considerable tonnage on wings not designed to handle such stress. He desperately tried to will some of his mass into subspace, but it wasn't working. Fresh pain seared through his neural nets as his wings slowly tore away from his primary fuselage. He tried to transform, but the relays were locked, his hydraulics frozen shut. He slammed hard into the ground, his optics unable to focus. A dark form stepped forward to stand over him like some angel of death.

"You were a fool . . ."

. . . to try to betray the Empire. But don't worry. You won't die. Yet.

Sunrunner groaned and prayed for release.

If it is release you seek, then you shall have it.

The menace in the telepath's tone blazed through the pain. But at that moment, Sunrunner didn't care. Then blessed unconsciousness spread it's protective wings over him.

Long after the sirens were silenced and the extra personnel were gone, whispers continued to float through the otherwise peaceful prison community. There were as many stories as there were tellers and no two were exactly alike. But they all held the same thread, the same tone.

"Paladin!"

"Paladin is here!"

"They've captured Paladin!"

Word spread like wildfire, as unquenchable as the rumors of Paladin's existence and defiance. Octane had given up trying to correct people; Sunrunner meant nothing to them, but "Paladin" gave them hope.

Or he had. With each repetition of the news, he could see the hope draining out of his people. As long as he had been free, Sunrunner had given them hope. He had defied the Autobots; whether he had survived or not didn't matter as much as the fact that he had even done it.

And now he was here. Well, after a fashion. He was in medical isolation, with a new medic assigned exclusively to his care. That by itself was unusual enough to inspire a few confused whispers. But Octane could see the logic of it. The camp medics were widely regarded as little more than incompetent hacks. So much so that Blurr officially turned a blind optic to raids on medical stores and even encouraged Decepticon medics to continue caring for their people. If Sunrunner was seriously injured - and Octane had no doubts that he was - he would need quality medical care. And a dead Paladin was the last thing the Autobots wanted.

"What truths have you found, Octane?"

"Little enough, Shockwave," he replied with a sigh. That Shockwave was alive and a part of the Autobot prison system had been a disheartening discovery all it's own to Octane. Worse, while the former general still retained all of his keen logic and wit, the fire to fight for his freedom was gone. After a hundred vorn of imprisonment, Shockwave had come to accept his place as leader of an imprisoned community.

"What do you know?"

"No one gets in to see him except his medic, Blurr, and the High Command. Even the other medics are barred unless specifically called for an emergency. His condition is officially unlisted, but Karma says his spirit is weak. She's worried about him, and I've learned it's wise to listen to her in these things."

Octane watched the former general but he was almost impossible to read. Especially when he was silent.

"You were friends? You and this Sunrunner?"

"I'd like to think so, but Sunrunner never really made friends. Canis was meant to be a retreat for our people, someplace away from the fighting. No one wanted to admit that his warrior skills would ever be needed. He tended to take the brunt of their anger, though few realized it. But he did. He kept his distance from everyone."

"Come," he said after a moment's silence.

"Where?" Octane asked, confused.

"You shall see," the Decepticon general replied enigmatically. Octane followed, curious and very, very confused.

Blurr paced his office, reading the latest medical report on the new inmate. Sunrunner, more commonly known as "Paladin," was in stable condition. Comatose, but that was believed to be a matter of pain avoidance rather than a result of his damaged body.

Morpheus was right; the kid was an idiot. Did he honestly think he could escape? And now I may well be the one to pay for his stupidity.

With a heavy sigh, Blurr sat at his desk, still staring absently at the medical report. Since death would only make "Paladin" stronger, a medic hand-picked by First Aid was overseeing the Decepticon's care. And he had strict orders regarding who could see Sunrunner: himself, the medic, Morpheus, Chronotrigger, Duostrike, Hot Spot, and Lord Magnus. He had managed to squeeze out a measure of discretion, but only just.

"Blurr, my friend, you present the image of a mechanism with a problem."

Blurr glanced up, a warm smile crossing his face as the familiar purple bulk of Shockwave settled into a chair across from him. Another Mech, one from the latest batch of prisoners, lingered by the door.

"Ah, Shockwave. A visit from you is always welcome, my friend, but who is the tag-along?"

"Octane, the spiritualist from the latest arrivals."

"Spiritualist . . . what is that, like a priest?"

"Nothing so formal as a temple priest. I like to think of my job as more like someone who listens. Someone who gauges moods and helps people help themselves."

Blurr nodded; he remembered Octane's profile now. Almost a pacificist, he was unlikely to be much trouble. In fact, he could be a useful ally.

"I brought him here because he is Sunrunner's friend."

"And?"

"And there are a number of people who are concerned for him. Prisoners rarely have access to any official news. And with such tight security, they are unlikely to hear any unofficial news either."

"And for good reason. The last thing the Empire needs is a martyr. The last thing I need is someone around here making a martyr of him. Anything happens, and it's my skidplate that pays for it. Leaving you with an administrator more like my predecessor. I think it's safe to say no one wants that, least of all me."

"Understanable, but this is Octane. The very idea of making a martyr of Sunrunner would shock him."

Blurr glanced over at the young spiritualist. As predicted, he appeared utterly shocked.

"You see? The very idea appalls him."

"Of course it does! He's my friend!"

Blurr smiled faintly at the youth's outrage. He could at least take comfort in knowing his anger was genuine and heartfelt.

"I can't let just anyone in . . . but in this case. . . . Just don't expect too much."

Octane could hardly believe this was real. It had been enough of a shock to discover Shockwave and Blurr were friends. Now he was being offered a chance to actually see Sunrunner.

Blurr escorted them to the security ward, originally intended for violent inmates. Octane supposed there weren't many of those left, and a part of him was saddened by that.

He watched closely as Blurr punched in his code, then ushered them through. They hadn't gone more than three steps when the medic came forward.

"You. . . ! And you. . . ! You're not supposed to be in here! Blurr? What's the meaning of this?"

"I have discretion, Dyne. Shockwave is allowed visiting privileges, as is Octane, provided he is accompanied by Shockwave or myself. If you don't like that, well, that's too bad. I'd hate to have to replace you because you've had . . . an accident."

The medic blinked, obviously surprised to be receiving a death threat, but kept his mouth shut. Blurr smiled viciously before leading them into the actual ward.

Octane really wasn't sure quite what he had expected. The sight before him, however, was not it. Sunrunner, or most of him at any rate, lay on a wide diagnostice berth, tubes and wires plugged into him in half a dozen places. Monitors of all kinds were clustered around the head of the bed. Close by, three carts were arranged into a makeshift work area, their surfaces littered with tools and sizeable chunks of yellow metal.

"What . . . what happened?"

"High speed collision with a skywalk, followed by a visit with the ground. His wings were sheared off by his own weight; his impact with the skywalk left him perched precariously on a rather sparse adamentium-alloy frame."

Octane nodded, hesitantly resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. As if by some silent agreement, Blurr and Shockwave withdrew to the far end of the ward. He could hear their whispered voices, but he tuned them out. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn't nearly as important to him as Sunrunner's well-being. And while Sunrunner would no doubt be surprised to hear it, Octane thought very highly of his warrior friend, and did not wish to lose him. Not to something as senseless as a foiled escape attempt.

"Well, 'Runner, you've really been to the wars this time, haven't you?" he murmured quietly. He absently smoothed a corner of the warrior's sigil, pressing slightly to make it stick flat.

"Octane. . . ."

Startled, Octane glanced at the monitors, then back at Sunrunner. Had the warrior actually spoken? Or had it just been wishful thinking?

"Octane . . . make it stop. . . . The pain. . . . Too much. . . ."

"Sunrunner? But you . . . you're. . . . Medic!"

Dyne, Blurr, and Shockwave all hurried over to join him. The monitors were calm once again, showing no sign that Sunrunner had ever spoken.

"What is it, Octane?" Shockwave asked worriedly.

"He's aware . . . he spoke to me."

"Impossible," the medic declared. "These readings clearly indicate a comatose patient."

"He did speak," Octane insisted moodily.

"It was your imagination. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have parts to manufacture."

"Come on, Octane. Let's let Dyne do his job."

"I'll be right there," he murmured. Shockwave nodded, drawing Blurr away once more. Octance sighed heavily, watching the monitors, praying for some sign. Several seconds passed with no change.

Maybe I did just image it, he thought to himself. He turned to leave when he felt a hand suddenly clamp down on his wrist. Too surprised to even speak, he stared wide-opticked as Sunrunner's optics flickered a deep blue.

"Don't ever do that again," his injured friend hissed, his optics flickering for a moment longer before falling offline once more.

"Sunrunner? But. . . ."

"Kill me or stay away."

"Sunrunner, I can't allow that, you know that. You have so much to live for. . . ."

"I won't live . . . a slave. She . . . she betrayed hope. . . ."

"As long as you're alive, there's still room for hope, 'Runner. You just have to have faith. You'll see. . . ."

"All right, visiting hours are over, kid. Go on back home. Primus knows I've got enough work to do without tripping over you too."

Octane was genuinely surprised at the gentle tone of the medic's voice. Almost as if the Mech actually cared.

"Don't look so surprised," Dyne chuckled. "I didn't spend all those orn serving under First Aid without learning a few things. How else could I have gotten this assignment? I'll take care of your friend."

"Thank you," Octane replied, briefly touching the other Mech's arm in gratitude. "I . . . I'm not ready to lose him."

"You won't," the medic assured. "Now scoot."

Relieved and reassured, Octane joined Shockwave and Blurr as they left the medical wards. It felt strange, but Octane was beginning to understand how Shockwave could be friends with an Autobot.

Dyne watched the Decepticons leave before turning back to his patient. The monitors were still low . . . for a Decepticon. But they were well within the bounds of normal for an Autobot warrior in conservation mode.

"So that Decepticon fool was right, you are aware. Even better. Then you'll have a chance to fully enjoy every second of our time together."

Blue optics powered up, tinged with anger.

"You . . . don't scare me. . . ."

"That's fine with me."

"You'll kill me then?"

"Oh no. No, the Empire can't afford to make a martyr out of you. That's why they sent me. No, you'll live a long time yet, boy. Though I dare say you'll wish you were dead long before I'm done."

Sunrunner's optics powered down and Dyne allowed himself cruel laugh. Yes, he was going to enjoy his time here.

It's almost a shame I have to keep him alive, he thought to himself. Ah well, I'm sure I'll manage.

Starchaser awoke to a world of darkness. Complete, utter, unpowered darkness. Sighing at her own forgetfulness, she powered up her optics, but the darkness remained. Concerned, she ran a level five diagnostic on her optical subsystem. Her visual field altered, green text scrolling over the ghosted viewfinder.

All receptors, green. Optical relays, also green. Visual subprocessors, green. Shield relays, green. Cleaser ducts, clear. External shields, active.

Wait, external shields?

A more detailed diagnostic revealed multiple minor cosmetic alterations, including optical shields. A hiss of irritation escaped her when her internal chronometer informed her that she had been kept offline for almost two stellar cycles.

"I'll assume that mean's you're awake."

Startled by the velvety tenor tones of First Aid's voice, she bolted upright, belatedly remembering to disengage her new optical shields. A portion of her awareness filed the appropriate command pathway for future use, while another noted the shields were like single, thin sheets of armor, sliding into housings above her optics.

"Why have you. . . ?"

"Tsst. I'm not here to answer your questions," the medic purred lightly. He strode forward, reminding her of a powercat on the hunt. She shivered in spite of herself as disquieting thoughts flitted through her imagination. She flinched when he reached out to touch her and she was almost certain she could see a frown, despite his facemask.

"You're afraid of me."

His tone was soft, yet filled with surprise . . . and hurt. Starchaser didn't know what to think. It had never occurred to her that an Autobot might be surprised at a Decepticon's fear, let alone hurt by it.

"You have nothing to fear, Starchaser. No one here would dare hurt you."

"But you would dare to keep me locked in recharge for almost two stellar cycles."

"Closer to three. I'll have to check your internal chronometer later."

She stared at First Aid, shocked at how casually he commented on her lost time. As if he were commenting on an impending weather system or something equally trivial.

"We had to be sure your brother was stabilized before we allowed you to awaken," he explained quietly. She watched his hand hang in mid-air, it's motion arrested for some reason. It dropped to his side abruptly, but his expression remained clouded.

It took her a few moments to realize what he had said. My brother? Oh Primus. . . . How had they known?

"M-my brother?" she croaked. "How?"

"Your mother. . . ."

"He was right??" she blurted, cutting him off. "Oh Primus, he was right. . . ."

"Ahem. As I was trying to say, your mother has asked that I not discuss it with you until you have spoken with your father."

"My father? What are you talking about?"

"Didn't she tell you? Lord Magnus is also your creator."

"That's a lie," she hissed, backing away from First Aid. "That's impossible. You're lying. If he was my father, he would have recognized me."

"I was there when you first came online . . . Darkmist."

"Don't call me that," she hissed, uncomfortable and yet not sure why. That name . . . but why should it bother me? It's not like it's true . . . is it?

"The memory engrams have been erased, but you still know your name, don't you Darkmist?"

"I said don't call me that!" she growled, backing away from him until she bumped against the wall. She tried to edge towards the door, but he stopped her, caging her easily with his arms. Suddenly feeling trapped and panicky, Starchaser tried to slide under his arms, but there wasn't enough clearance. The urge to escape clawed at her, blinding her with need. Thus she was totally unprepared for the feel of someone kissing her neck. Fear and shock rooted her in place as she looked back up at her captor. First Aid's battlemask was gone, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Her neural nets were frozen in shock when he leaned closer and kissed her again. She felt briefly light-headed, then her neural nets unlocked with a cascade of conflicting emotions. She needed to escape, needed to feel the wind whistling past her. She needed to run free. She longed to feel him kiss her again.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured, caressing her cheek. "Perhaps 'Starchaser' suits you better. Certainly, it's a far better fit than 'Gypsy,' if I do say so myself."

"Gypsy?" she asked, startling away from his touch. But his hand followed her and a soft smile lit up his face.

"Paladin and Gypsy, the last hope of the inmates of Blurr's domain. Only now Paladin has been captured and no one knows quite what has become of Gypsy."

Starchaser's legs suddenly refused to bear her weight any longer. With a stifled mewl, she collapsed to the floor. All those hopes and prayers suddenly weighed heavily upon her. And her brother. . . .

Captured, dying . . . no, not dying. But he came close. Oh, but what will they do to him now? How did they know? And why is this medic even telling me these things?

A hand slipped under her arm, gently but steadily pulling her to her feet. It was gone as quickly as it came, to be replaced by another when she began to sway.

"Here, sit," a deep tenor commanded, a voice that was not First Aid's. Startled yet again, she looked up to see Hot Spot standing over her, a concered frown creasing his features. First Aid once again appeared impassive, his facemask in place as if it had never been missing.

"Sit, child, sit," Hot Spot admonished. She felt herself complying, almost independant of her own will.

"I take it you told her," the commander commented dryly, a rather pointed look aimed at the medic.

"Nothing they didn't want her to know," First Aid replied defensively. "I did warn you that she would not react well to the truth. Even now she is trying to deny that he could be her sire."

"And your . . . theory?" the warrior asked, his gaze turning back to her. Starchaser shivered, looking away. The sheer power in his gaze was overwhelming.

"She recognized it, though she doesn't know why."

"She's not deaf," she murmured, surprised at her own audacity.

"No," Hot Spot replied, his tone rich with amusement, "no she's not."

His fingertips brushed her cheek in a quietly a paternal gesture. A warm smile lit his optics, shining through despite his battlemask.

"Your mother chose well, modeling your new form after herself. Others will assume you have her temper and fire. Thus they will not trouble you as much as they might.

"But this," he murmured, touching her sigil. "This must go. As a slave, you cannot be protected. Besides, your people half expert Gypsy to be a slave by now, if not worse. And I see no reason to give them what they want."

Starchaser flinched away from him. A sympathetic look lit his optics briefly.

"He will see her when he returns," Hot Spot said formally, turning away from her. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone.

Irradia perched high atop the Imperial Palace, watching as Ultra Magnus wound his way through the city streets. Though the city bustled with activity, wherever the Lord Regent drove, a halo of open space surrounded him. As if no one dared to even glance at him wrong, let alone be accused of impeding his journey.

I should be with him, she thought tiredly. She had read the latest report; her son was in stable condition, albeit comatose. A part of her longed to be by his side. But fear of what the others would say kept her away. It was a shameful truth and part of her was glad to hear she was not officially allowed to see him.

"You shouldn't be out here alone, Irradia," a deep voice rumbled with amusement.

>"Ah, but I'm hardly alone, am I Morpheus?" she replied lightly. "After all, you're here now. And we mustn't forget Variance, lingering by the stairs."

"This is hardly the safest place to watch the city."

"I'm not watching the city," she replied flippantly. "And are you saying Lord Magnus's Consort must now fear for her life even in the very heart of the Empire?"

"The Prime has returned," Morpheus responded simply.

"Yes, he told me," she murmured turning her gaze back out across the city. She searched for Magnus, but Morpheus had distracted her long enough that she couldn't spot him. Annoyance flared within her, even though she knew, logically, that she would have lost sight of her mate in time regardless.

"And did he also tell you that the power you weilded before as Consort is no longer assured?"

"If that is meant to be some sort of vieled threat, Morpheus," she hissed, "then I would suggest you make your peace with Primus."

Irradia favored the telepath with a vicious grin, all but daring him to attack. He snarled at her for a moment, anger making him forget an important lesson she had taught him long ago. Old reflexes responded immediately, deflecting his telepathic attack. He stepped back, shaking his head in surprise.

"Shame on you for forgetting, Morpheus," she cooed.

"Latent sc--"

"Finish that thought and you'll be dead by second moonrise," she hissed. She could see Variance rushing forward, his rifle at the ready. Irradia refocused on Morpheus; he was enraged, but in control, for now.

"You forget yourself, traitor," the telepath hissed.

"No, you forget yourself, Morpheus. I'm not just some pretty little thing Lord Magnus has taken to his bed."

"You have no authority here, traitor," he spat.

Irradia had had enough. With a barely vocalized growl, she lashed out, backhanding the telepath. He turned his head with the blow, absorbing the power of the strike in silence. She started to strike out again when her body simply stopped responding, held frozen in place. She tried to growl, to scream, anything, but all that came out was a strangled whine.

"The Guardian's bedmate has only as much power as I say, slave."

"Let go of her, Morpheus," Variance growled, his rifle pointed squarely at the telepath's chest.

"Or what, Variance? This is not your affair."

"Let go of her, or I tell Lord Magnus the truth. Somehow, I doubt his lordship would appreciate knowing you kept information from him."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Morpheus growled. But Irradia could sense an uneasiness in him.

"Fascinating the things people will say to get out of saying how much they care," Variance rumbled, a vindictive grin spreading across his face. Morpheus frowned a moment, then his optics widened as he mouthed 'Neo,' his hands clenching into fists.

"Don't even think of retaliating against him," Variance growled warningly. "You even look at him wrong. . . ."

"And what? It's a guild matter."

"One that Lord Magnus would find most interesting."

Irradia stumbled two steps as she was suddenly released from the telekinetic's hold. Variance was immediately at her side, offering a supportive hand. She flashed him a grateful smile, then her left flank flared with pain messages.

"Never again shall the Guild bow to you, traitor."

She watched him walk away as she leaned heavily against Variance for support. She could hear the warrior asking her something, but the words were lost in the stream of faults and damaged circuit warnings. Looking down at her side, she was surprised at the thick line of sluggish energon gel leaking down to her hip, the metallic skin torn in a jagged line.

He did it. He actually did it. I can't believe it.

Irradia swayed in place a moment before Variance picked her up. Cradling her against his chest, he broke into an easy lope as he carried her down off the rooftop.

Starchaser was bored. Unbelieveably bored. There was nothing to do in her room; the terminal was password protected and the vid screen wasn't working. She didn't need medical attention . . . not that anyone would even speak to her. The staff took one look at her and proceeded to act like she had all the value of a lab stool. Everyone except First Aid, anyway. Only he had left shortly after Hot Spot. She had heard his voice a couple times, but that was all.

To make matters worse, she really didn't know what was happening with her brother. First Aid hadn't said more than that he had been captured, claiming there was nothing more he could say. She wasn't convinced and she definitely wasn't satisfied with the lack of information. Since no one else would give her a second look, she had tried sneaking out with her cloak. She hadn't even made it to the main door of the medical center before she was stopped, by a sneering telepath.

He was right, she did betray us. How else could they know about the cloak and it's vulnerabilities? And know they would need a telepath here too?

Starchaser sighed as she rounded one end of her pacing circuit. Intellectually, she knew pacing was a waste of energy. Conversely, the movement gave her something to do and it kept her from thinking about how far she was from clear skies.

She was only peripherally aware of approaching footsteps in the hall. Footsteps were easily dismissed; the entire unit had been surprisingly busy for a private ward. Inspite of the relatively high ambient sound levels, however, the soft click of her door lock disengaging rang in her audios like a cannon blast. She froze in place, staring at her door apprehensively. It obediently hissed aside to reveal Ultra Magnus. Her fuel lines went cold, a sickly uncertainty clawing at her.

"So this is what has become of my daughter," the warlord declared quietly once the doors had closed behind him. His sapphire optics blazed with a compelling inner fire, locking her gaze. She tried to speak, but her vocoder refused to fuction. With effort, she dropped her gaze from his.

"Your mother hid you well; I never would have recognized you, Darkmist."

"Don't call me that," she rasped. "It's not my name."

"It is the name we gave you. But of course you don't remember, do you?"

"Please, just leave me alone," she murmured.

"You are my daughter, though you fight to deny it.

"But this," he rumbled, his tone suddenly taking a dark tone, "this I shall not condone."

One finger traced the outline of her Decepticon sigil. An involuntary shudder passed through her and, for a brief moment, she felt embarrassed by the purple symbol.

Shape up, Starchaser. There's no shame in being a Decepticon. What's wrong with you? You should be proud of your sigil!

"I see the conflict within you, Daughter. There is much about the Empire that you do not yet know."

"Nor care to know."

"You place too much faith in Decepticon propaganda, Starchaser. If the Empire is so evil, why does your mother still love me?"

"If the Empire is such a grand thing, why did she run away?" Starchaser shot back hotly.

"A foolish error. One she has now corrected."

Starchaser snorted, turning away from him. She braced herself, certain he would turn violent at her insolence. She was not disappointed; his hand clamped down painfully on her arm as he spun her around. Deep blue optics flared, anger clearly written across his face.

"Do you have any conception at all of where you are?"

"What's tha--"

"By rights, you, a Decepticon slave, have no business being here, in the medical facilities of my personal physician. In fact, if you were anyone else, your only chance at gaining access to The Lair would be in someone's bed."

"I don't. . . ."

"I will not allow a daughter of mine to live as a slave."

"You are not my father!" she spat, trying futilely to wrench her arm free of his grasp.

"No? Then why does the name 'Darkmist' trouble you so?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she growled, her own optics flaring as she tried to suppress a shudder.

"Don't lie to me, Daughter. Stop fighting that which you know to be truth."

A strange calm suddenly descended upon her and she stopped struggling. Words tumbled out of her mouth, beyond her power to control . . . or to stop. Words that left her chilled to the core.

"Paladin and Gypsy, twinned hope for salvation. You may have torn Paladin from the skies, but you will not corrupt Gypsy."

"Corrupt? Is that what you think I am trying to do? Is it?"

"N-no . . . no, I. . . ."

"Perhaps I was wrong about you," he growled, releasing her with a shove. His anger surrounded him like a dark cloud, it's power so strong that it made her wince.

"I had thought to order your release from medical. Perhaps that judgement was in error."

She couldn't speak, trapped by the awesome power of his blazing anger. He glared at her a moment, then stormed out of the room. Yet even in his absence, his utter fury still lingered. She could almost taste it in the air, heavy and bitter.

"Oh Primus," she moaned to herself, "what have I done?"

An unsettling sense of despair seeped into her neural nets. What had she done? He had been ready to release her. Though it would have been to a life under close guard at the apartment, at least there she wouldn't be bored to death. At least beyold these walls she wouldn't be caged in a room with no view of the sky. He might even have allowed her the freedom to fly. Instead, she had insulted him.

"What was I thinking?" she muttered to herself, pacing once more.

"I dare say you weren't thinking at all."

Starchaser looked up sharply, surprised to see First Aid leaning against the door frame. She could almost see him smiling as he pushed himself off the door frame, allowing the door to finally hiss shut. For some reason, his hidden smile annoyed her.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Lord Magnus was already livid when I told him about your mother. I thought it prudent to discover why."

"Why don't you just leave me alone," she grumbled turning away from him once again. He walked up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She tried to pull away, but his hands tightened fractionally, a warning perhaps. In any case the message was clear: do not move.

"Would it be such a bad life, living here in Iacon?"

"You said something about my mother?"

"Yes," he sighed. "She was attacked earlier. I tended to her myself and she in now resting in Recovery. You can see her later, if you like."

Shocked, a numbness started to replace her earlier despair. She wanted to feel something, but there was nothing, neither worry nor vindication. The nothingness bothered her, but stubbornly refused to go away.

"And my brother?" she asked numbly. "What about him?"

"I'm not authorized to tell you," he murmured, his hands sliding down her arms. If she didn't think it was utterly rediculous, she could have sworn she heard regret in his tone.

"Then what are you good for? Just leave me alone," she grumbled, this time successfully pulling away from him. But she could feel no joy, even in this small victory.

"Your pride will get you killed," he whispered after a few moments of silence.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Lord Magnus will not allow his daughter to live as a slave, not when that daughter is also Gypsy. Your life means too much to the prison population."

"Stop it. Please, just stop it."

"He has already granted you more freedom than any other slave. But even his patience has it's limits, even with you, Starchaser. You may have been the light of his life once, and you could be again, but not if you stubbornly cling to that slave symbol."

"You won't corrupt me into betraying my people."

"I hope you didn't say that to his lordship."

She snorted, walking away from him while keeping her back firmly to her less than welcome visitor. Not that there was really anywhere to go, but even a few steps helped. He followed her, once again resting his hands on her shoulders.

"They aren't your people, Starchaser," her murmured softly. "I've seen how they treated you and your mother. I've seen how they treated your brother."

"At least they didn't threaten to kill us," she hissed, twitching her shoulders free once more.

"No . . . no, I don't suppose they did," he sighed. "But what would you have him do, Starchaser? You and your brother present a clear and present danger to the Empire."

"I sincerely doubt that," she replied with a snort. "We're captives, slaves. What possible threat could we pose to the almighty Autobot Empire?"

"You give hope to the Empire's enemies every day you remain defiant."

"All the more reason to stand against you," she declared with a muted growl.

She bit back a gasp as he spun her around and slapped her. He then pulled her close, kissing her roughly. She fought instinctively and he released her with a shove. Disoriented, shocked, and confused, she stumbled back a few paces before she regained her balance.

"What's wrong, Starchaser? Having second thoughts?"

"Wha-what was that?" she sputtered.

"If you're going to act like a stubborn Decepticon, then I might as well treat you like the slave you are."

She shivered at the coldness she saw in his optics, so alien to her experience with him. What were these Autobots that they could change so completely and so quickly? With a sudden insight, and no small amount of horror, she realized these Autobots were not so different from the Decepticons she had lived with before her capture. She couldn't even begin to count how many times she had witnessed normally friendly comrades turn suddenly cold and harsh whenever her brother walked into a room.

But this is different.

Why? How? a soft voice whispered.

They did that because they didn't approve of his warrior life. They thought he was betraying the spirit of the community. This . . . I don't know why he's doing this.

Perhaps he doesn't approve of your choice to stay a slave, the voice whispered in response.

I can't betray my people. I won't.

How noble of you. Perhaps they will put that on your gravemarker. Provided, of course, that there is enough left to bury.

I won't have the same convienent conscience Mother has.

Why?

I have my honor.

Your honor won't spare you.

"Better to die on my feet than live on my knees," she hissed, desperate to hush that inner voice.

"A slave lives and dies on her knees."

With a start, Starchser realized that she had spoken aloud . . . and that her guest had not yet left. First Aid gazed at her impassively, his arms crossed as if he was waiting for her to speak again.

"I'm not. . . ."

"Out there," he said coldly, gesturing vaguely as he interrupted her, "a Decepticon might be a free person. But here, within the Empire's borders, that symbol marks prisoners . . . and slaves. If you intended to die on your feet as a Decepticon, you never should have allowed yourself to be captured."

"Allowed myself. . . ? Why you arrogant. . . ."

"The choice is yours, Starchaser. Cling to that sigil, and you will live, and die, a Decepticon slave. Abandon it, and you will find the freedom you seek."

She watched in impotent fury as he calmly turned and walked out of the room. The way his words twisted at the very core of her beliefs left her enraged and yet confused. The Empire was evil, every Decepticon knew that. Bent on galactic conquest the Autobots were power-hungry killers that destroyed anything that stood in their way. And yet. . . .

And yet, if they are so evil, how could Mother befriend Hot Spot? How long did she stay here? Surely more than a few lunar cycles. What spy mission could hold her here so long if these Autobots are so very evil?

And First Aid. . . . Until now, he had seemed so kind, so gentle. Another of Mother's friends, it would seem. So which is the truth? The brutal or the kind? Or something in between?

Starchaser sank into a chair with a sigh. Her thoughts confused and uncertain, she was completely unaware of the quiet presence that lingered at the margins of her thoughts, observing and nothing more.