Starchaser was still perched on the medical berth when Lord Magnus walked into the room. She watched him, but didn't move, her chin resting easily on her arms as they lay crossed on her raised knees. Random thoughts flitted through her mind as she felt his assessing gaze upon her. Did he think her weak for giving in? Was he ashamed of her for abandoning a cause she had believed in so strongly? Did he find her distasteful, a traitor and thus never to be trusted? Or was she stronger for admitting her limits? Was he grateful that she now saw things closer to the way he did? Did she inspire any pride within him? But most importantly, was he finally going to let her out of here?

The touch of his fingertips on her cheek broke her reverie. She started away from his hand, then a shameful guilt nipped at her, kept her from meeting his burning sapphire gaze. The low huff of air forceably expelled from his systems somehow managed to sound . . . disappointed. And that only fueled her guilt.

Get a grip on yourself, Starchaser. What difference does it make if he's disappointed? So what, big deal. It's not like he's anything to you . . . nothing important except a ticket out of here.

And yet, as much as she wanted to believe that inner voice, she had to be realistic. She was a scientist; she sought truth, whatever it's form and no matter how ultimately distasteful it might prove. And the looming truth before her was the unsettling possibility that this ruthless warlord was her creator. It was shameful, something she longed to dismiss out of hand. But something prevented it, some nagging doubt.

"Afraid, Daughter, or does something more weight on you?"

"I . . . I want to go home."

"Home? If you mean the outpost, I very much doubt you truly wish to go back there."

"I . . . I," she started, then stopped, realizing she didn't know what to say.

"I see you removed your Decepticon symbol," he commented causally.

"The one, yes. I . . . I need paint for the other two."

"Of course."

She waited, certain he would say something more. Instead, he seemed . . . transfixed by the image on the vid screen. It was a high aerial shot, a wide-angle video feed she had accidently found a handful of breems before he had arrived. Crystalline waters rushed over three waterfalls, the last one altered by a strange sort of dam. The lush green growth around the roaring water confused her; if the Empire held such a place, the Autobots would have turned it into a massive power plant. And yet, if they did not hold it, why would they have video of it?

"Ah, Nedjit. Perhaps someday you will see if for yourself."

"You've been there?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, several times. When the Nathi homeworld emerged from it's dark age and stepped into an industrialized age, I allowed it's peoples to choose a handful of power sources for their own use. Nedjit was chosen for it's religious value to the peoples of that area. Now the whole area is a nature preserve, though I doubt many modern Nathi even remember the myths anymore."

"Myths?"

"You would have to ask someone else for the details, but Nedjit is where three goddesses bathed, in each of the pools. Natu, Wesu, and Suturuk. Beyond that I cannot currently recall."

Starchaser nodded, smiling in spite of herself. Perhaps this Mech was not so fearsome after all. He was being kind, really, taking time out of what was undoubtedly a busy schedule to talk to her, a nobody ex-Decepticon.

"Do you still think I am trying to corrupt you, Daughter?" he murmured, his light tone belied by the intensity of his azure gaze. She looked down at her feet again, momentarily at a loss. She couldn't tell him that she had never truly felt that way. Nor could she tell him that she believed his lies about Autobot integrity. If the Empire possessed any such thing, she would not have been hounded by that sadistic telepath medic. And her brother . . . Primus only knew what was happening to him.

"I am not your enemy, Daughter."

"I know," she whispered. "I know that now . . . Father."

For the briefest instant, she thought she saw him smile, but it was gone so quickly, she doubted what she had seen.

"You must be tired of this place," he murmured a moment later, offering his hand.

"My brother. . . ."

"Comatose, but in the hands of a medic specifically assigned to him by First Aid."

A wave of relief washed through her, swiftly followed by doubt. And the memory of First Aid's words.

"The link between us . . . First Aid mentioned it, but. . . ."

"Irradia had it deactivated and surpressed when your memories were erased."

"Could it. . . ?"

"Be restored? Yes, though I should think you would be happy to let it lie awhile longer."

Starchaser nodded, at last accepting the proffered hand. Lord Magnus helped her to her feet, his hand shifting to her elbow as he escorted her out of the medical ward. But she hardly noticed.

Oh Sunrunner. I . . . I'm afraid for when I see you again. You were so angry with Mother for what she did. How will you react to my choice? Will you understand?

And this link they say we have. . . . What would it do? What would it mean? I want to believe that you're okay, but I can't shake this feeling that something is terribly wrong. . . .

Ultra Magnus left mother and daughter in tearful reunion. As much as he might wish to stay with them, he had an appointment to keep to see his son. And too, mother and daughter deserved time together, without him.

The administration building of the Imperial prison camps was a functional block of metal with no grace or soft edges. It was, in a word, ugly. Perfectly suited to it's lot in life, it was a dismal and depressing sight. A brooding presence that loomed darkly over it's domain. It's interior was little better, albeit with lighter shades of grey.

"My Liege, you're . . . you're early!"

"Am I? Well, inasmuch as the prisoner is still comatose, I don't see how it will make much difference, do you Technician?"

"N-n-no, sir. I'll, um, I'll just, uh, tell Medic Dyne that, um, that you're here."

"You do that," Magnus encouraged, flashing a feirce smile at the tech. The technician sketched a hasty bow before scurrying deeper into the medical wing. Lord Magnus watched him only for a moment before the hushed sounds of footsteps trying not to be heard caught his attention.

"You're late."

"You're early, my lord," Blurr replied respectfully.

"So I have been told," the warlord rumbled, waiting a moment more before turning around. Blurr held himself rigidly, not quite at attention, but not at ease either. He allowed a thin smile to cross his lips and the camp warden visibly relaxed.

"Report."

"Nothing new, my lord. A former compatriot expressed some concerns to Shockwave, but I have assured him that Sunrunner is being treated for his injuries."

Lord Magnus nodded in acknowledgment, turning back around in time to watch Dyne's hurried approach. The medic was vigorously wiping his hands with a towel which he discarded before entering the hall where Magnus and Blurr waited.

"My lord! I wasn't expecting you so soon!"

"Why does everyone keep saying that? You act as if I have no right to set my own schedule!" he growled, glaring at Dyne menacingly. The smaller medic stepped back a pace, cowering in what was a fair approximation of fear. Warnings buzzed at the back of his thoughts, but he dismissed them for the moment.

"My lord," Blurr murmured, "I am quite certain you have far more important things to do than waste time on some low-ranking medic."

Magnus snarled at Blurr's impertinence, striking him across the face. He then grabbed Dyne by his neck, thumping him once against the closest wall. The medic's hands reflexively clutched at his arm, his feet kicking at the air helplessly. The Empire's regent favored the medic with a vicious scowl.

"Blurr's impertinent attitude I'm willing to excuse for the sake of his value to me. You, on the other hand, are nicely expendible."

Dyne's struggles suddenly ceased, fear etched clearly on his face.

"M-m-my Liege," the medic gasped.

"I don't like you, Dyne, remember that."

Ultra Magnus dropped the medic in disgust. Dyne scrambled to his feet, bowing repeatedly before backing towards the doors. Magnus snorted to himself, pushing past the snivelling medic and into the secured ward.

Sunrunner lay surrounded by monitoring equipment, his optics dark. For the first time, his body was whole, albeit still covered in crude patches that stood out medical grey against his yellow skin. Magnus bit back a whole tirade of angry words; lashing out at Dyne further, while undoubtedly satisfying, would not change his son's silent defiance. Nor would further beatings speed Sunrunner's recovery.

"As you can see, Liege, his repairs are nearing completion, a difficult task with such . . . primitive facilities."

"Why you. . . ."

"Silence," he growled. "Leave us."

"My Liege. . . ."

"I said leave us!" Magnus roared, drawing his pulse cannon from subspace. Dyne's optics widened suddenly, gibberish noises spilling out of his vocoder. Blurr grabbed the medic and hauled him out of the room, barely pausing to nod his head in acknowledgment of his liege's order. Lord Magnus subspaced his weapon, then turned back to his son. The monitors beeped their slow, steady rhythms, tracking his suppressed life processes. He studied their rhythms, wondering at the low energy readings.

Could he be more conscious than that idiot medic believes? Perhaps a test is in order. . . .

"I have your sister, Sunrunner," he whispered, leaning close. "She has seen the truth; she accepts that I am her sire. As I am yours. You are one of us, Sunrunner."

"Never!" the yellow Mech hissed, his optics flaring to life suddenly. "I will never be one of you!"

"You already are, Sunrunner. All the Decepticon reconstruction in the universe won't change that. Your spark is that of an Autobot. Deny it all you wish, in your deepest core, you know it to be true."

"You lie," he hissed.

"No, Son, I speak truth. Open your mind and you will see it for yourself."

Sunrunner growled in impotent fury, his body unmoving. His growl quickly twisted into a hacking wheeze, leaving only his flaring optics to show his continued defiance.

"The mind is strong, but the body weak. Rest, my son, conserve your strength. Soon enough you will rejoin your mother and sister."

A weak hiss was all the response Sunrunner could manage. Ultra Magnus favored his son with a faint smile, then let himself out of the ward. He ignored Dyne and Blurr, striding past them imperiously. Blurr growled creative epithets at Dyne before trotting after Magnus.

"My lord. . . ."

"Spare me your platitudes and excuses, Blurr. Dyne's dragging his feet with my son's care. Correct his errors, or I may well be tempted to find a replacement. For you."

"By your command, my lord."

"And Blurr?"

"Yes, lord?"

Ultra Magnus's hand shot out to wrap around Blurr's throat, squeezing just enough to put pressure on the fuel lines to Blurr's head to prove he meant business. When he spoke, his voice was a dark rumble, filled with menace: "Never again presume to advise me of my business or the best use of my time, understood?"

"Y-yes, my lord."

"Good. See that you don't forget it."

He released the former courier, pleased to note Blurr's submissive salute, both arms crossed close to his chest as he bowed low.

"I live to serve," the warden intoned quietly. Magnus nodded once, then turned his back on the warrior. Reassured that his power had been properly made manifest, Magnus drove a leisurely path back to the Lair.

First Aid locked the office door behind himself, relieved to leave his ward - and the bulk of his worries - behind him for a few moments. Ridding himself of the unwanted telepath medic was proving more troublesome than he had ever thought possible. He had, after an extended argument that ended in violence, finally managed to bodily throw her out of his ward. Naturally, she had made no secret of the fact that she intended to file a complaint, both with the Telepath Guild and with Commander General Hot Spot. But at this point, First Aid could no longer make himself care. If the Guild wanted to raise trouble with him, then that was their problem. And he had no concerns for what Hot Spot would do with any such complaint.

"Computer, music."

A deep-rooted sigh flowed out of him as he released his anger. He leaned back in his desk chair and powered down his optics to half, losing himself in the music. The computer had chosen an old favorite, one that never failed to remind him of Irradia, since she had introduced him to it. Only this time, instead of Irradia, his mind conjured forth images of Starchaser. Dark and graceful like her mother, with that same knowing look, but at the same time, possessing a vulnerability that tugged at his core. She needed a protector, a champion . . . and more than anything, he wanted it to be him. As unreasonable as it quite probably was, he wanted to be her support, to be the one to whom she turned when she needed strength.

A discordant buzzing disrupted his daydreaming. The medic scowled behind his facemask, irritated that any of his staff would dare disturb him. He was in no mood to deal with any of them and he had, he thought, made that point quite clear. He tried to ignore the buzzing, but it refused to go away. Someone takes perverse pleasure in risking his or her life, he thought peevishly.

"Frag off!" he growled loudly. The buzzing immediately stopped. Satisfied, he spun his chair around to face the back of his office and powered down his optics.

"Forgive the interruption, sir, but she insisted."

First Aid stood up as he snapped around, restoring full power to his optics. Starchaser stood at Variance's side, her body language a curious mixture of self-assurance and fear. Anger melting away at the sight of her, he stepped around his desk, holding a hand out to her. She hesitated a moment before taking it, her grip surprisingly strong. Almost as if he were offering her a lifeline.

"Variance, see that we're not disturbed," he ordered quietly, never once taking his focus away from Starchaser's face. The warrior saluted in silence before leaving them.

"Come, sit," he murmured gently. "Tell me what brings you back to me."

"My brother," she responded quietly, moving as he directed. "Please, I must know the truth. I'll do anything you wish, anything at all, but I must know. The not knowing is killing me."

She turned away from him then, her violet optics dimming slightly. He cupped her chin, lightly rubbing his thumb across her cheek.

"I can restore the link between you, if that's what you really want. It won't be easy and I'll probably need to contact the Guild. Does your mother know why you're here?"

"She knows I want my brother back."

"I suppose you want to do this now, hmm?"

"Please?"

First Aid studied her intently, but found no traces of doubt. Nodding, he released her and reached across his desk to activate the commlink.

"Variance, could you come in here a moment?"

"You wished to see me, sir?"

"Summon Neo."

"Sir, with respect. . . ."

First Aid looked up, locking optics with the warrior who now served as Starchaser's escort.

"This is not a request, Lieutenent. Whatever personal feelings you may or may not have on the matter are irrelevant. You will do as you're told."

"By your command," Variance rumbled deferentially. He saluted formally, backing out of the office. When he glanced back at her, First Aid could tell that Starchaser was unsettled. He clasped her hands, gently drawing her to her feet. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he could feel slight shudders shaking through her.

"Shh . . . easy now," he murmured gently. She leaned against him with an airy sigh, turning into his arm. As if she was trying to block out reality.

"You wanted to see me?"

First Aid gently squeezed Starchaser's hand before releasing her to glower at Neo. The telepath's expression was hard, cold, but First Aid could see the cracks around the eges. Neo was being pulled in too many directions. If this continued, it was entirely possible that the young warrior would break. But at the moment, he needed Neo to bend to his will. He only hoped his orders wouldn't be the last straw on the operative's sanity.

"I should confine you to quarters for insubordination," he rumbled warningly. "Now then . . . I need your help unblocking a twin link."

"It is against Guild policy to facilitate links between nontelepaths."

"A new policy instituted after Irradia left; it doesn't apply here. You're already walking a fine line, Neo. Stop arguing with me."

Neo snorted abruptly, walking past First Aid to grasp Starchaser's chin and roughly turn her towards him. A low growl rumbled up from Variance as the warrior tensed. First Aid could see real fear in Starchaser's optics as Neo barked a command to stand down at Variance. The pale indigo lieutenent bristled, understandably angered at being ordered by a subordinate, sending the tensions in the room through the roof.

"Variance, back down. Neo, stop provoking him."

"You can just sta--"

First Aid ripped Neo away from Starchaser, slamming him into the wall. All thoughts of Neo's mental health were swept aside in burning fury at the operative's behavior.

"Don't you ever use that tone on me, boy. I will not be ignored or brushed aside by you. Restore the link and then report to Lord Magnus."

The telepath hissed, his optics narrowing briefly. First Aid focused his anger at the young warrior, determined to make him see the error of trying to push him. Neo's pale blue optics widened for a moment, then the defiance melted away.

"By your command, Commander."

First Aid held Neo's gaze until the telepath lowered his to the floor momentarily in submission. Satisfied, he released the warrior.

Starchaser cowered in a corner of First Aid's office. The anger and tension in the room made her wish she was anywhere else. If she had known this would happen . . . she didn't want to be any trouble. She just wanted to have her brother back in her life. Why they were fighting over her, she couldn't even begin to fathom. She was nothing special, even if Ultra Magnus was her sire. Worse, it felt as though she were being used as a convienent pawn in whatever power struggle continued to play itself out between these Autobots.

First Aid held his hand out to her, the hint of a smile glittering in his optics. Wary, she pretended not to notice. The one called Neo stood like a silent, charcoal pillar, watching her carefully. She shivered in spite of herself; something in his pale blue optics unnerved her.

"I know you don't like telepaths, but this is the only way," the medic murmured for her audios only. "I'll be right here, by your side the whole time, okay?"

She nodded, focusing on First Aid to keep from thinking about Neo. The telepath stepped forward, carefully gathering one of her hands in both of his. Surprise rippled through her as he smiled, warmth radiating up from his hands.

"We are no more a uniform group than any other," Neo murmured with surprising gentleness. "This may feel strange at first. I'll show you both how to separate your thoughts after the link has been reinstated."

Again she nodded, not trusting her vocoder to speak. Starchaser could feel his presence in her mind, but she couldn't even begin to explain what it felt like.

"Ready?"

"Yes," she whispered, doubt gnawing at her.

"Steady now. Squeeze my hand if it's too much."

A piece of herself was gently stretched outward. For a brief moment, she could almost see her brother laid out before her. Then pain, unimaginable pain, exploded through every part of her. A pain deeper, sharper, more twisted than anything that Femme medic had ever given her. She tried to scream, but her world collapsed to blackness.

Irradia rushed into First Aid's medical ward, Ultra Magnus only two paces behind her. She all but assaulted the first technician to cross her path.

"Where is she?" she demanded hotly.

"Office, in the rear."

"What the. . . ?"

"Never mind that, my dear. Our daughter. . . ."

"Yes . . . yes, of course. . . ."

Ultra Magnus gently clasped her elbow, escorting her through the ward. Not that Irradia needed his guidance, but it was comforting to feel his touch all the same. Somehow, his presence alone was enough to reassure her that all would be well. He would see to it, somehow.

The scene in First Aid's office bordered on the bizzare. Starchaser was laid out on the couch, First Aid bent over her and mumbling to himself. Neo lay on the deckplates, presumably where he had fallen, while Variance knelt at his side, holding his hand possessively. After the vicious backbiting she had seen between the two elite operatives in the past few weeks, it seemed strange to see Variance crouched at Neo's side. Strange, and yet, at the same time, reassuring.

"First Aid, report."

"I don't know what to report, Liege. Neo was restoring the link between your daughter and your son. I don't know what happened."

"Psychic shock, Liege, Liegana. It's the only possibility I can offer to explain this," Variance offered quietly, his optics never looking up from his bondmate's face.

"That doesn't sound very helpful," Irradia sighed, crouching beside her daughter. Starchaser twitched and flinched occasionally, her face a mask of pain.

"Can't you do something?" she demanded, frowning up at First Aid.

"Believe me, Liegana, I've tried. But whatever she's feeling, it's entirely in her mind."

"Not entirely."

Ultra Magnus spun around with a low growl at the sound of Morpheus's voice. The Telepath Guild Master held up his hands in surrender, though his face remained a mask of superiority.

"How dare you come here?!" Ultra Magnus demanded harshly.

"Neo is a senior mentor, though I have . . . loaned him to your elite squadrons. I come in peace, my lord. I can help your daughter, if you will allow it."

"Why should we trust you?" Irradia demanded.

"I have nothing to gain by betrayal, Liegana, and everything to lose."

"Oh, 'Liegana' is it now," she hissed bitterly. "A very different tune from only a few days past."

"Liegana, please. . . ."

Irradia turned away from the Guildmaster, surprised to see desperate pleading in Variance's optics. She glanced back at Morpheus, studying the way he stood in the doorway. Calm and self-assured, he acted as though he were an equal instead of a petitioner.

Magnus sank to one knee bside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. She could feel herself drawing strength from his presence, taking comfort in the privacy his greater bulk afforded them.

"I do not trust him, Irradia," he whispered, "but she is your daughter."

"And yours, my mate. I do not trust him either, but his motives are plain. He gains nothing by treachery and loses everything. I would trust him for nothing else, but in this. . . ."

His fingers brushed against her cheek, a fleeting loving gesture, before rising to his feet. She remained at her daughter's side, watching with increasing worry. But there was no mistaking the pure menace in her mate's voice.

"Betray me, and I will crush the Guild with my bare hands."

"The Guild exists to serve the Empire."

Morpheus's dark hands touched the lines of Starchaser's face, tracing a pattern visible only to him. A faint blue glow danced between the telepath's fingers, sending tendrils along her cheeks. Her face relaxed, the mask of pain fading into a peaceful calm.

In silence, the Guildmaster pulled back and went to Neo's side. Irradia peripherally noted Morpheus helping the dark charcoal warrior to his feet, but she hardly cared. Her daughter's expression was blissfully calm.

"What did you do?" she asked quietly, wiping away the faint trails of optic cleanser.

"Liege, you must go to your son. Now, unannounced. You must not blame Blurr . . . but your son is in terrible danger."

"Why should I --"

"Please, Liege, there is not time. Dyne won't be content to leave him alive much longer."

"Liege, you must hurry," Neo added quietly. "Your son does not yet know his link to his sister has been restored. When he finds out. . . ."

"Magnus, go," Irradia urged quietly. She watched his expression subtly shift from obstinant to determined ire. With a sharp nod, he spun about and stalked out of the room.

"First Aid, thank you for your help. Variance, help me get her home."

"Of course, Liegana," both Mechs intoned deferentially. Irradia gave both telepaths a wary, narrow-opticked glare before walking back to her apartment with Variance. With murmured direction, the pale indigo warrior settled Starchaser on the couch, lingering for only a moment before resuming his duties as guard.

Ultra Magnus burst through the double doors and into the secured medical ward, Blurr, Hot Spot, Blaze, and Groove trailing after him in various states of helpless surprise. Their reactions, however, were not nearly as gratifying as the guilty shock he read in Dyne. He was sorely tempted to walk up to the Mech and rip out his still-beating fuel pump, but settled for almost completely crushing his neck instead. Dyne rasped, dropping the invasive probe in his hand to claw futilely at the crushed plates of his neck.

"Oh come now, Dyne," he said with forced lightness. "You of all people should know your injures are hardly fatal. Excruciatingly painful, perhaps, but no less so than you deserve.

"Now then," Magnus continued, his tone suddenly a cold rumble, "perhaps you can tell me just what you think you're doing to my son?"

"Feh. He's Decepticon scum. The only thing he or any other prisoner is good for is medical research."

In an instant, Blaze held a quarterstaff in her hands, whirling it around to knock it against the backs of Dyne's knees with a resounding clang. Dyne collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, glaring bloody murder at the telepathic Femme warrior.

"Show respect for ye're lord an' master, Medic," she hissed dangerously. Magnus noted her response with a faintly self-satisfied smile.

"Ultra Magnus is nothing more than a petty bully," Dyne sneered. "Lord Prime only chose you as Regent because you were a no-name, no-talent hack. A safe choice. You're not even worthy of cleaning Lord Prime's rifle."

Lightning-quick reflexes allowed Ultra Magnus to reach out and grab Groove before the commander did something foolish. Dyne had stopped clawing at his ruined throat plating, although Magnus calculated at least one fuel line had ruptured and the primary air-flow conduit had been pinched shut. Left untreated for a long enough stretch of days, his injuries would eventually kill him. But death was what Dyne wanted. More specifically, a swift death. And while he was greatly tempted, Magnus refused to grant the treacherous medic's wish.

Magnus raised Dyne off his feet, sliding cold control over his boiling rage. Dyne struggled for a moment, then stopped.

"You want me to kill you in a rage, don't you?" he murmured, his tone deceptively quiet. "You know you're going to die and you're hoping I'll lose control. Hoping for swift death. Fool. Did you really think I wouldn't see through your charade? You disgust me."

Dyne remained silent, but Ultra Magnus could see he had accurately judged the situation. Damping back the fires of his anger, he dropped the rogue medic with a faint snort of disgust.

"Hot Spot, remove his sigil, then lock down his subspace access."

"But . . . but I won't be able to transform without my subspace shunt!"

"Where you're going, you won't need to," Hot Spot grumbled, jerking Dyne forward. A flash of silver, a choked scream, and a red symbol on a thin sliver of metal floated down to the deck plates.

Ultra Magnus set aside the latest in a stack of reports from across the Empire. The status of the Imperial Fleet, trade relations amongst the conquered worlds, progress on Earth, exploration finds in the Rynara sector, inventories of every sort of item imagineable . . . and the list went on. . . . Fortunately, Irradia was more than willing to slide into her old role as his private administrative assistant. Despite the vorn apart, the bonds between them held true and he found himself trusting her anew.

"My lord, you should rest."

"Time enough for that when I'm dead, First Aid."

"Sitting with him won't speed his recovery, my lord," First Aid responded gently. "I assure you, I will call as soon as I have any information."

"I . . . I'll stay with him, F-father," Starchaser offered hesitantly from across the room. For a moment, surprise kept him from knowing how to react. She appeared to be adapting much faster than he could have imagined. Which left him very . . . wary of her motives. But if she had truly come to accept him as her creator. . . .

"I would expect nothing less, Daughter," he replied quietly, reaching out to touch her cheek. She flinched away from his touch, breaking her gaze from his. Not so sanguine after all, he thought to himself quietly. Something we will have to continue to work on, I suppose.

"You will notify me the moment he returns to consciousness."

"Of course, my lord."

Magnus watched his medic's gaze flick briefly to Starchaser. This was the second time he had caught him in the short time since his daughter had entered the room. And more than enough to arouse his interest in the medic's intentions towards his daughter.

"First Aid, a moment of your time."

"Of course, my lord," he murmured in response, glancing one last time at Starchaser before preceeding the Autobot warlord out of the room. Magnus continued past, leading the mildly confused medic into his own office, then locking the door behind them.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"N-notice?"

"Don't play ignorant with me, First Aid; it doesn't suit you."

"My lord . . . I assure you, I --"

"Don't lie to me, First Aid," Magnus hissed darkly. "Now . . . what are your intentions?"

"My . . . intentions. . . ."

First Aid trailed off as understanding lit his dark cobalt optics. For a moment, wild fear haunted the medic's limited expression. Then he calmed himself, suppressing any indications of emotions under the calm professionalism of the Medics.

"My Liege, I have nothing but honorable intentions."

"Merely words, First Aid, and not even words of value. I ask again, what are your intentions?"

"Your daughter is . . . quite striking, Liege. Strong and yet fragile at the same time. She needs someone to . . . protect her."

"And you think that someone should be you."

"I will not lie to you, Liege. I do not love her, not yet. But then I hardly know her. I believe I could love her, very easily. If she will allow it."

"Don't you mean if I will allow it?"

"With respect, my lord, you may not have much say in the matter."

"I could forbid you to see her," he growled.

"You could," First Aid replied deferentially, bowing his head slightly, "but I know you would allow no other medic to treat her should something happen. Who else would you trust with her life?"

Magnus stared down at the medic, impressed when he didn't even flinch.

"If you hurt her. . . ."

"Nothing could be further from my intentions."

"See that it remains that way."

Starchaser perched at her brother's bedside, his hand clasped in her own. She listened without hearing to the stream of thoughts that was his mind, a chaos that flashed and sparkled like a crystalline stream. But it was his, private, and she didn't trust herself not to get lost in that chaos. The lesson had seemed simple enough when Neo was there, inside her mind with her. But on her own. . . . Alone, everything was different.

I'm so sorry, 'Runner. I'm sorry for what you've been through and for what you still have to face. Please don't hate me for not having your strength. Please . . . please understand. . . .

He looked . . . peaceful. His body had lost the tension she had sensed earlier, now that the pain was gone. Deep sapphire optics were dark, half hidden behind blast shields that had just been installed. But the peaceful appearance was a lie, as she knew only too well. While she didn't trust herself to reach out and touch his damaged psyche, she could still sense the state of his mind. Chaotic, touched with the darkness of remembered agony. The memory sprang to the forefront of her own thoughts and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She had only experienced a fraction of the pain her brother had experienced repeatedly, but it was still enough to bring a tear of cleanser to her optics.

How could anyone do this? How could anyone be so cruel? I know, Brother, you would say it's the Autobot way. But . . . I can't say that anymore. I know Autobots now, I know not all of them are cruel monsters.

"Shh . . . hey now, Starchaser, it's okay."

Starchaser started, surprised to find First Aid thumbing away her tear. She smiled inspite of herself, leaning into his touch. It felt surprisingly good to have him near, for reasons she was afraid to explore.

"Thank you for coming back," she whispered quietly.

"You're welcome, dearest. I wasn't sure, but I thought you might like the company. Looks like I was right."

She felt a tired sigh ooze out of herself as First Aid wrapped his arms around her. Powering down her optics, she leaned back against his chest, grateful for his presence. He had always been there when she had needed him the most, always kind and generous. His cheek pressed against hers lightly, fingers expertly tracing down her flanks. A faint sigh echoed around her, his touch sending gentle bolts of warmth through her.

"Get your hands off her, Autobot scum."

Jerking away from First Aid in surprise, Starchaser abruptly powered up her optics. Cold blue optics glared up at her from Sunrunner's perfect face. The accusations were clear, causing hot shame to course through her. Sunrunner was all Decepticon warrior. If she even tried to explain how she felt about First Aid, he would brand her a traitor to the cause for consorting with the enemy. Anger flared, batting down her shame as, for a brief instant, she defied his anger. She would not let him beat her down for taking comfort in First Aid's kindness.

"You're awake. Good, then we can move you out of my ward. I believe your mother and sister are anxious to have you return to them."

Azure flame licked through her brother's optics, reaching out to sear her with the heat of his anger, and suddenly she knew he had noticed her missing sigil. Noticed and was displeased by it's absence.

"You too, sister?" he spat. "And what did you get for your betrayal? Time in his berth?"

She slapped him without even thinking about it, surprised to feel an echoing sting on her own cheek. Variance and Crosswise were suddenly filling the small room with the ominous hum of phase rifles powering to full.

"Get him out of my ward," First Aid hissed. "He's healthy enough for the camps."

"I hope he was worth it, traitor," Sunrunner hissed, fighting against Crosswise's assistance. Starchaser flinched as the word "whore" hung between them, unspoken but no less present. And then he was gone.

"It's all right," First Aid whispered. She flinched away from his touch, fighting to hold on to herself amidst the streaming hate from her brother.

"No . . . he hates me. . . . Oh Primus, he hates me. I . . . I have to find Neo. I'm sorry. I have to go."

"Starchaser? Starchaser, wait!"

She ignored him, pushing past startled techs as she ran out of the ward. She barely noticed as one of the door guards peeled off to follow her. All that mattered was finding Neo so she could be rid of the accursed link that refused her any protection from her brother's rage. And that meant getting outside. She had to reach the Telepath Guild.

"Hey! Where do you. . . ?"

Shouted questions trailed off as she ran past, her silent shadow tossing back hand signs in her wake. It had been so long since she had felt wind whistling past her wings . . . the promise of flight fueled her, pushing her onwards until she burst out of the Palace.

Starchaser didn't even pause as she transformed and took to the air. Climbing steadily higher, she thrilled to the rush of air past her trim fuselage as her gravitic drives pushed her onwards. She could see her shadow below, watching her with keen blue optics. For a moment, she felt a tang of pity. He was only trying to do his job; it wouldn't be fair to make him suffer because she lost him. Leveling off, she hung in the air beneath the aerial traffic patterns, surveying the city below her while she continued to ignore the pulsing indicator of an incoming transmission.

Once Starchaser aligned her mental map with the city below her, finding the Telepath Guild's main guildhouse was simplicity itself. She proceeded with deliberate slowness, allowing her shadow to keep pace with her as she wove through the city streets towards her objective.

Transforming as she landed, she touched down in the empty street before the imposing Guildhouse, her shadow only a moment behind her.

"Are you mad? Why come here of all places?!?"

She ignored him, hesitant fingers reaching out to trip the door chime sensor. A stern-looking Mech answered the door, cold turquoise optics measuring her in a glance.

"There's no testing today," he growled, "not that it would matter if there was, Neut. Go back to your burrow."

"Wait!" she cried out as he started to close the door. "I have to see Mentor Neo!"

"Now what would the mentor want with a skinny little welp like you?" he sneered. "Go on, scram."

"Is the mentor even here?" her shadow challenged with a low growl.

"What's it to ya?"

"Answer the frelling question," the warrior snapped back. "Before I really get angry . . . corporal."

The telepath looked ready to slam the door in their faces when another telepath, a Femme, pushed him aside.

"I am Mentor Windsong. Is there some problem? Perhaps I can assist you."

"I need to see Senior Mentor Neo. Now."

"I'm sorry, child, but the Senior Mentor is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed."

"Fine, then I'll wait for him."

"Really, that isn't necessary, child," the mentor soothed. "I'm sure whatever it is, I or one of the other Mentors could assist you."

"No!" she cried, completely failing to mask the desperation in her voice. "I have to see Neo. I don't want anyone else."

"All right, child, all right," the mentor cooed, as if speaking to a skittish beast. "Please, calm yourself. Come inside and I'll see that you are made comfortable. But your . . . escort will have to stay here."

The warrior nodded, handing her a small device.

"I will be here, m'lady. If you should have need of me, call and I will answer."

She nodded in silent astonishment, a hidden part of her pleased at his acknowledgment. And at the surprised worry on the telepaths' faces.

"This way," the mentor murmured. She guided Starchaser through stark corridors, past a handful of doors before stopping at one that opened onto a plush lounge.

I'm sure you'll be quite comfortable here. I shall let Neo know you are here as soon as he's free. In the mean time, if you need anything, use the comm at the desk."

"Thank you, Mentor," Starchaser murmured quietly.

"You are quite welcome, child. If you change your mind, the Novices' Mentor is always on call. He will be able to help you, whatever your problem."

Starchaser nodded, pacing the room a moment. Satisfied that Neo would not, in fact, be appearing any time soon, she settled at the window, content for the moment to watch the mechafish in the garden pool below. She only hoped he would arrive soon.

Sunrunner pitched forward, barely catching himself on hands and knees as one of his Autobot guards shoved him. His own face refracted in broken pieces from the flooring, the blue glow of his optics further distorting the image that swam before his optics.

"On your feet, Decepticon scum," a harsh voice commanded, rough hands pulling him up to his feet.

"Lieutenent Variance, remanding prisoner Sunrunner into your custody, by order of Medic-Commander First Aid."

"So this is the infamous Paladin, come before us at last," Blurr mocked as he stepped forward to circle around him. His smile made Sunrunner's metallic skin prickle in warning. If he had held any illusions that this Autobot was somehow different from the others, the naked viciousness of that smile erased them.

Blurr circled like a predator sizing up potential prey. Sunrunner fought down a shiver of discomfort; he recognized the pale blue Mech, had enough of his mind still in one piece to know he had been here before. This was, after all, the same building that housed the prison camp's premier medical facilities, the dark domain of Dyne and others like him. But the sight of Octane without restraints or guards left him fearing he was trapped in some sort of dream, and that all too soon he would awaken to find himself back in Dyne's clutches. Perhaps that was why Blurr was acting as though he didn't recognize him, perhaps all that he was seeing was nothing more than an elaborate dream.

"Remember our bargin," the faceless purple Decepticon said suddenly. A tendril of memory taunted Sunrunner at that voice, but despite knowing he should know who it was, recognition eluded him.

"You are here, are you not?" Blurr asserted with a sneer, turning away from Sunrunner to glower at the hauntingly familiar Cyclopean visage of the unnamed Decepticon. "He is yours so long as you hold tight his leash. I will not tolerate disruption. Now get this pile of slag out of my sight."

"Of course," the unknown Decepticon replied mildly. "Come, my son."

Sunrunner shied away from the outstretched hand, a shrill voice in his head gibbering about collaborators and traitors to the cause. What other reason could there be for the easy way Octane and this other Decepticon carried themselves in the midst of so many Autobots? The purple one had said something about a bargin. What tortures were they planning for him now?

"It's okay," Octane soothed, stepping forward. Sunrunner recoiled again, unable to banish the fear that they were collaborators, traitors to the Decepticon cause.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed, anger flaring through his systems. Traitors. He was surrounded by traitors. First his mother, trying to ingratiate herself to the local warlord. Then his sister, for even less cause. Who knew what these two were winning for siding with the enemy.

"Sunrunner, please," Octane pleaded.

"How could you?" he accused, surprised at the venom in his own voice. "Of all people, Octane . . . how could you betray your own?"

"I don't --"

"Don't lie to me, you --"

"ENOUGH! All of you, out! Now!" Blurr growled. Octane and the other Decepticon bowed in submissive acquiescence. He could hardly credit what he was seeing.

"As for you," the warden continued, fixing Sunrunner with a vicious glare, "go willingly or I'll throw you in the hole until I tire of your screams."

A low growl echoed up from deep within Sunrunner's being, his vision hazing red in his growing fury. He was a Decepticon. He would not go quietly into the darkness like some cowed beast! He was strong. He was --

A sudden sharp blow to the back of his head sent him crashing to the floor once more. He stared without comprehension at the blue haze before his optics. His world stopped a handful of centimeters from his face, but he couldn't fathom why. Panic bubbled through his thoughts as the notion of being in a tiny space flared and nipped at his claustrophobia. Then hands were wrapping around his forearms and he was being dragged to his feet. Octane stood before him, the spiritualist's presence a jolt to his addled neural networks.

"'Tane?" he mumbled in confusion, uncomfortable with his old friend's proximity.

"'Runner? You okay?"

"There will be time for questions later," an unfamiliar purple Decepticon said gently, his single optic pulsing in time with his words. Sunrunner felt as if he should know the strange Mech, but his memory refused to supply a name to match with the unusual visage.

He offered no resistance as his friend and the other Decepticon lead him out of the building. He felt disconnected from the strange sights around him, almost as if he were walking through a dream. At that thought, a deep rattling shudder shook him to the core, fear threatening to swallow him. If this was all a dream . . . the thought of waking up in Dyne's clutches once more terrified him more thoroughly than he cared to admit.

"Easy, 'Runner, easy. You're safe now, with friends."

"Oc . . . tane?" he asked, his voice cracking as if he hadn't spoken in far too long a time. Or else had spent too many hours screaming. Either could be true, though Sunrunner half suspected the truth was a bit of both.

"Yes, Sunrunner, I'm here."

"How . . . how did you get here?"

"The Autobots, same as you. Remember?"

"Autobots. . . ."

Anger surged through him, swiftly followed by crushing grief. He remembered. They had come to the outpost, destroying everything. He had been captured, then tortured for trying to escape. His mother was the local warlord's pleasure slave and his sister . . . he remembered his tormentor telling him she was dead. Tortured to death for helping him in his attempt to escape. The Empire had stripped everything from him. His family, his home, his freedom. . . .

"Everything . . . destroyed. . . ."

"We must build again, yes, and pray that Primus will guide us and lead us to freedom once more," Octane counseled gently. Sunrunner looked up at his old friend, unable to miss the slight flinch as his own blue optics met Octane's red.

"Do you really believe that?"

"I have to believe, my friend. I must have faith, lest I fall into darkness."

A quiet smile touched Octane's mouth, warmth blossoming in his optics. He gestured forward, and for the first time, Sunrunner realized that he was actually leaning on Octane, depending on the other's strength to move forward through the buildings around them.

"Where. . . ?"

"Theta corridor. It's not much further to the gates of the Tauri encampment, where we live now. Shockwave has been generous enough to grant you space within his home."

"Sh-shockwave?"

"Mm. I know, old friend, poor news. But better that he is here to watch over our people than dead."

Sunrunner said nothing, battling his own grief and terror as he walked. He was surrounded by single-story buildings, a stark contrast to his hazy memories of his attempted escape from Iacon. Despite the preternatural dimness, the encampment appeared well maintained, if cast in dim silvers and greys. There was an odd sense of peace that clung to the place, a cloying scent of submission. In the distance he could see guard towers and the haze of some sort of force shield. Armed warriors patrolled the walls, but in the streets, there were few people at all.

"Ah, here we are," Octane murmured unnecessarily as the strange purple Decepticon proceeded him to the gate. Two large warriors stood guard, their Decepticon sigils splashed red instead of purple.

"Welcome home, sir," the right guard murmured, bowing to the unknown Decepticon. Confusion shivered through Sunrunner, temporarily damping back his fears. Was he wrong? Had they actually escaped from Cybertron and reached a safe haven? He didn't remember escaping, but then there were a lot of things he couldn't remember.

"Here, rest awhile, my friend," Octane directed. Sunrunner was surprised to see they were now inside somewhere. Under the gentle prompting of his friend, he settled on the low sleeping pallet, a deep weariness seeping through his circuits. He felt as though he had been sprinting for a thousand kilometers, running full out from the terror that stalked him. And yet the thought of sleep, of shutting down his awareness, terrified him even more. Terrified to lose touch with reality, and even more terrified to awaken to find it had all been a dream. The terror swept through him and for a moment, his world went red with error messages.

"I'll be back later, 'Runner. Rest now."

"Octane? They let you in here?"

"Power down, Sunrunner. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No . . . don't leave me," Sunrunner gasped in desperation, surprising even himself with the strength with which he latched onto Octane's hand.

"Easy, 'Runner. I have to see what Shockwave wants. I'll be right back, promise."

"Swear it?"

"You have my word, 'Runner," the spiritualist murmured, resting his other hand on top of Sunrunner's. He hesitated for a moment, then released the other Decepticon, his hands dropping back to his sides like so much dead weight. Moderately reassured, he let the power fade from his optics. Octane would protect him from the night terrors.

Octane lingered at his friend's bedside for a moment. He had never before seen his friend in such a psychologically damaged state. The usual callous confidence was gone, replaced with raw and wild emotions. Especially terror. It pained him to recall how many times Sunrunner seemed to mentally reset even in their short walk from the administration building to Shockwave's home.

"Octane," Shockwave called again, gentle yet firm. The spiritualist sighed, briefly touching his sleeping friend's shoulder before slipping into the outer room.

"We need to talk," the community leader murmured, his tone filled with quiet regret.

"About Sunrunner, yes, I know," Octane sighed, settling at the table across from the once legendary general. The light from an oil lamp flickered across them both, adding it's warm yellow light to the room as it cast dancing shadows on the walls. It would have been thought an outrageous luxury anywhere else in the galaxy, but Octane was no longer surprised by such things anymore. The Empire flourished, and in it's prosperity, energy was more plentiful than it had been at any time in Octane's life, at least, on Cybertron. Under the Empire's ægis, energon and less refined energy sources were plentiful, even in the prison camps.

Half a cube of energon sat between them, but neither seemed inclined to drink from it. Octane watched the pale pink fluid slosh around the cube as he toyed with it, in no hurry to face the single optic of Shockwave's face. He knew Sunrunner was not as the general had expected. His old friend was not as he had expected either.

"You told me he was a great warrior, a champion of the cause. Our people saw in him a slim chance at hope, a hope that was brutally crushed by his capture. Already, fresh hopes whisper through our people at the thought of Paladin walking among them. Their spirit will not long survive seeing Paladin in such a state."

"And how long will it survive with those . . . things at our gates?"

"You know as well as I do that they are none of my doing. If Blurr is worried for security, then there is little I can do to change his mind."

"The Zeals are dangerous, Shockwave. They may be certified as slaves, but they're still Autobots in their sparks, regardless of the brand on their armor."

"And do we now condemn all who carry Autobot fires in their sparks?"

"No, of course not," Octane murmured. "That's not what I meant. . . ."

"I know, my son, I know. I myself am not so sanguine about Blurr's Zealot protectors, but he seems confident in their ability to keep the districts enforced. They are as much for our own protection as anything else. I have told you many times of the horrors visited upon our people the last time a rogue Autobot prisoner escaped the Autobot districts. I have confidence that he chose the Tauri Zealots with his usual care and insight. Until I see otherwise, I will not waste time worrying for what may never happen."

"I fear you place too much confidence in him," the spiritualist confessed, swirling the half-empty cube absently, momentarily mesmerized by the scintillating patterns in the pink fluid.

"I have had many millenia in which to study him, Octane. I have no reason to think my confidence misplaced."

"Even after his actions today?"

"It is his way. He is not brutal without cause. If by words alone he can enforce compliance, then all the better, for all our sakes."

"I'd still be happier if the Zeals weren't hanging around. . . ."

"As would I. I must worry for our people, and while the Zealots may yet sap at their strength, I fear Paladin's fall is the greater threat to their morale. I have already turned away three of our people, seeking a chance to just see him for a moment. They expect to see some great hero, Octane, someone they can call a savior. The Mech sleeping in that room is not the warrior of whom you spoke."

"I know, Shockwave . . . I only wish I knew what happened to change him so."

"How deeply do these changes run?" the ex-general asked quietly. Octane sipped at the energon, less from any need for the energy and more for the soothing qualities of such a normal action. The power warmed his core, though it did nothing to lift his spirits. He still couldn't bring himself to meet Shockwave's gaze. Sunrunner had always valued his privacy highly; he would little appreciate being discussed behind his back. At the same time, Shockwave needed to know the truth.

"Very," he sighed at last. "I fear for him, Shockwave. I fear that, whatever they did, they broke him in ways even he himself is not capable of understanding. He was always coolly in control of himself, regardless of the circumstances. I have never seen him come even half so close to losing control of his anger as he did today. The Sunrunner I know is lost in there somewhere. At least, I hope he is. I shudder to think that all that remains of Paladin is a terrified shell, incapable of even making the walk from the administration building to this place without losing track of himself."

"I understand," Shockwave replied, genuine sorrow coloring his tone. "Stay with him then. I can make my rounds without your assistance, particularly as it would seem that he will need you far more than I in the days ahead."

"Thank you," Octane murmured gratefully. The community leader nodded once before slowing rising to his feet. His hand rested on Octane's a moment, drawing the spiritualist's gaze up to his single optic.

"The hope Paladin would offer our people may well be a double-edged sword. I myself have spent too many millenia in these camps to still hold to the illusion that escape may somehow be possible, but many others still cling to that hope. I do not have it in me to take that dream from them. Watch him for me, Octane. I do not want our people's dreams shattered because he could not accept our lot."

"Maybe he has the right of it. Why should we sit passive?"

"You, who so worries about the Zealots at our gate, asks me this?"

"There must be something. . . ."

"If we had some hope of outside assistance, I would agree. But of the great battle lords of the Decepticons, I am the last to survive, kept alive as a warning to our people."

"Have faith, Shockwave. I cannot believe the All Father would bring us together only to taunt us with the victories of the Autobots. Surely He has some plan for us."

"Speak not to me of divine plans, Octane, for I have long since abandoned their false hopes."

Octane watched the former general walk out of the building, uncertain if he mourned more for Sunrunner or for Shockwave. He did not blame the fallen commander his loss of faith; it was something he had seen all too often among the prisoners. But it still saddened his spark as he returned to Sunrunner's side.

The yellow warrior's face was troubled, as though he were caught in a nightmare. Octane sighed heavily as he sat beside his friend, resting a calming hand on his shoulder. After a moment, the other Decepticon's restless motions stilled.

Faith of the fallen, my friend, he murmured silently. I will stand beside you, guide through this trial. I promise.

Neo stood at the observation window, looking down at the lounge. Starchaser was sitting at the lounge's small window, intently watching the courtyard below. A light touch on her thoughts made it clear that something had her very seriously disturbed. Not that he had expected anything else; only the very troubled would come to the Telepath Guild seeking solace. But as it was Starchaser, he felt obliged to be annoyed with Windsong for not fetching him sooner; as the acknowledged daughter of Lord Regent and Consort, she could have dangerous power in the Autobot hierarchy. Despite what they often said to others, the Guild was not so free of the Empire's power structure that it did not have to acquiesce to Lord Magnus's will.

"Sir, I know you must have your reasons, but . . . she's not a telepath. She's not an empath. In fact, Vista could not determine any useable talent in her at all. Not even latent abilities. She doesn't belong here, no matter what her insistence to speak with you and you alone."

"By whose order was she tested?!" Neo growled, using a flare of anger to cover his sudden fear. If Lord Magnus knew they had been testing his daughter. . . .

"It was only an informal look. We always test those who come to us. We simply thought. . . ."

"No, you didn't think. She is not to be tested."

"But. . . ."

"No 'but's, Windsong. This order comes from Master Morpheus himself. Would you defy his wishes?"

"N-no, of course not."

Neo watched Starchaser a moment longer, carefully reigning in his ire. After everything he had suffered at Morpheus's hands, the promotion to Senior Mentor still felt . . . artificial. Like an appeasement, made more with an optic towards Lord Magnus than because of his qualifications as a senior telepath. Alone at the Guild, his success was hollow, empty. But his wounded pride was not yet willing to let him go back to the Lair. Even if everything he wanted, the one thing he needed more than anything, still lingered in the dark heart of the Empire.

"You say Vista sensed no trainable psychic talent?"

"No telepathic or telekinetic ability. As I said, it was only an informal look. Who knows what actual testing could reveal?" Windsong replied, spreading her hands in a helpless but placating gesture. Neo grunted, leaving the medical empath mentor behind. Perhaps it was just as well Starchaser had no telepathic abilities. He doubted either Lord Magnus or Irradia would be willing to alow the Guild to train their daughter. Too many lingering hostilities on both sides.

Starchaser looked up at the sound of the door opening. Neo strode into the room, cold and imperious. The look on his face was almost enough to make her reconsider the wisdom of coming here. But while the violent stream of hatred had ceased some time ago, she feared it could come back at any moment and that was unacceptable to her. She knew he was sleeping, but she could still feel the current of his torn psyche running through her mind, leaving behind a sticky trail of hatred, anger, and terror.

"I'm told you've been asking to see me," he said casually, crossing the room to pick up a small trinket on the table beside her. If acting as though he had never seen it before was meant to be reassuring, it didn't work. She watched him closely, wary of his reactions.

"Ah, yes, I . . . I need to speak with you," she stuttered.

"Coming to my guildhouse, demanding to see me, refusing to even talk to the other mentors . . . really, Starchaser, that is a very good way to get yourself into serious trouble. If nothing else, it is certainly a good way to get oneself caught in the middle of rumors she would be better off having left unstarted."

He set down the trinket to capture her gaze with icy blue optics.

"What is it you want of me?"

"I . . . I want you to break this link."

"What?!?" he roared, suddenly a spectre of rage. "Do you have any idea what you're saying??"

"He hates me!! I can feel it with every cycle, feel his hate pouring into my very spark. How can you just stand there and do nothing?"

"Of course he hates you, stupid Femme. He loved you more than life itself and you betrayed him."

"I saved him!" she screamed in anguish.

"Don't tell me!" he shot back hotly. "Tell him!"

"How?!? No one is going to let me talk to him. He won't see me anyway."

"No, you foolish girl, tell him."

"You aren't listening! They won't let me!"

"No wonder you can't escape; you're too stupid. You don't need anyone's permission. Make him feel your anger just as he makes you feel his hate."

Starchaser stared at Neo in mute shock. That it could be so easy. . . .

Dark nightmares haunted Sunrunner's sleep, filled with uncertainty, fear, and pain. The pain was nothing compared to the tortures he had experienced, but each dark vision summoned forth others. And with each new vision, the pain grew stronger.

He watched helpless as his sister was drawn and quartered, frozen in place as her screams echoed through his spark. Unable to interact with his nightmares, he was trapped, forced to watch as unknown Autobots slowly peeled the outer plating off of her still-living body. Her wings were pulled off, her disfigured feet slowly melted in a vat of acid. Nightmares only, but the visions were so vivid as he watched his sister die a thousand times, each more horrific than the last, that in that terrible moment of each death, he was certain it was real. And then the nightmares grew even worse.

She laughed. She looked at him, and she laughed, dangling the trailing shred of her sigil before his face. Taunting him viciously, she called him a coward and a failure. Rage boiled up from deep within him, rage at this latest betrayal. The molten fire of emotion coursed through his systems, turning his dreamworld hazy red and black.

A black hand sudden swept through his dreamvision, fingers shredding the world around him like giant claws. It it's wake, it left a desolate cityscape . . . and his sister. He could taste her fear, see it clearly reflected in her dimly-lit violet optics. She was isolated, alone in a world that was alien to her, and something in the way that she looked at him broke his heart.

"Please . . . please, my brother . . . understand. . . . All for you . . . always for you, my brother. . . . You were always so strong. . . ."

Her words cut through him even more strongly than the silent pleading had before. Black wraiths suddenly sprang up around his sister, clawed hands reaching for her. He watched, helpless, as the darkness clawed at her, tugging her away from him. She reached for him, desperate for something.

"Please . . . please, don't hate me, Brother. . . ."

Why would she think that? She's my sister . . . how could I hate her? Oh Great Maker, what have they told her? What has happened to my beloved sister?

"Starchaser!" he cried out, but his surroundings suddenly and violently changed, to be replaced by an unfamiliar room . . . and Octane, sitting patiently at his bedside.

"Octane?" he asked, confusion clawing at his spark. "How did you get in here? Where am I?"

"Easy," the spiritualist murmured placatingly, "it's okay. You're with us, inside the camps. Shockwave worked out a deal so you could stay with us."

"Shockwave? Surely not the same. . . ."

"The same, I'm afraid. How much do you remember?"

"I . . . I'm not sure," he confessed uneasily. "It's hard to tell what's real and what isn't. I remember escaping . . . and then pain. Lots of pain. After that . . . it gets muddled."

"You tried to escape, but they caught you before you could even leave the atmosphere. From what they will tell us, you almost died, more than once. Blurr, the warden here, was going to have you confined separately, but Shockwave worked out some sort of bargin."

"My sister . . . does she still live?"

"We . . . we think so. But she isn't here, Sunrunner. No one knows what's become of Gypsy. It's almost as if . . . as if she never existed at all. Certainly the Autobots have no reason to tell us how she may be faring, but Shockwave believes the lack of news can only mean she is still alive. Our people are not so certain. I . . . am sorry. . . ."

Sunrunner felt his tenuous grasp on reality threatening to slide through his fingers as he listened to Octane's voice. It didn't seem real. A handful of weeks ago, he and Octane would have been quite occupied with trying to avoid each other within the limited confines for the outpost. They rarely exchanged more than a handful of words at a time, Octane being the sort to openly disapprove of Sunrunner's obsession with martial arts. For his part, Sunrunner had never cared for Octane's overt interest in his mother, though he could never explain why. A lingering sense that it was wrong somehow. To now have Octane showing concern for him . . . the illogic of the situation was making his head hurt.

Without warning, remembered pain swept through his systems, the memories as crisp as if it was actually happening again, and for a moment, he lost touch with his sense of place. Memory hitched and he was once more caught in the medical ward of a sadist. He could see the medic leering over him, promising to introduce him to whole new levels of suffering, promising to kill him just as slowly as he had killed his sister. Searing pain raced down his left flank as the medic spoke. For a brief moment, his sister's face swam before his optics and that mocking voice whispered that she had screamed for hours, begging for death.

"No . . . NO!"

"Control! You must learn control!"

Sunrunner's head snapped around as reality shifted once more, wary of the faceless Decepticon before him. And even more wary of the unfamiliar room in which he found himself.

"You have my sympathies for the horrors you have experienced, but you must learn control. I know Blurr well; he does not make idle threats. If you disrupt the smooth operation of his domain, he will make good on his promise to have you thrown into solitary confinement."

"I cannot sit here an idle prisoner. The cause. . . ."

"The Decepticon rebellion is in ashes, as well I should know. All those who oppose the Empire either die or come here. The Empire is too strong, and from here we are powerless."

"Prisoners always outnumber the guards. . . ."

"Sunrunner, you know nothing of the situation here. You must listen to me when I say that escape is not an option, my son. If you were anyone else . . . but you are Paladin. Much is expected of you, son, much that I do not think you are ready to give."

Sunrunner snorted, turning away from the Decepticon before him. He buried his shock at seeing Octane behind him, his optics shaded with concern. Wherever he was, Octane was certainly not someone he had expected to see here.

"Listen to him, 'Runner, please. Shockwave has been within these camps for a hundred vorn."

"Then he is a coward for giving in so easily. Either that, or a traitor."

"I warned you, Octane," a warning voice rumbled from behind him. For a fraction of a millisecond, he frowned as his memory failed to match the voice with a face or even a name. Then Octane seized his focus once more.

"By the Light, Sunrunner, listen to yourself! Will you say next that I am a traitor, too?"

"I'm getting out of here, I'm saving my sister, and I'm going so far way from the Empire that they'll never find us. You can either help me or stay out of the way."

"Sunrunner, don't do this. Please. Don't force our hand like this. . . ."

"I mean it, Octane. I won't stay here. Stand aside."

"Do you truly think to escape?" the Decepticon behind him rumbled quietly.

"Don't try to stop me; you'll only get hurt."

"I see," Shockwave replied quietly. "Then I shall pray that you can one day find it within your spark to forgive me, my child."

"What the. . . ?"

"Shockwave, no!"

A sharp pain stabbed through his shoulder. For a fraction of an instant, he sensed his sister's presence. Then his world went dark.

Irradia paced the antechamber of her apartment in a restless circle, waiting with unsubtle impatience for First Aid to arrive. Something was upsetting Starchaser to the point that the young Femme was having nightmares. She didn't know if there was anything First Aid could do to help, but she didn't know who else she could trust. She wanted to think it was a side effect of the restored twin-link, but she wasn't sure.

"You sent for me, Liegana?" First Aid's gentle tenor murmured. She suppressed a bolt of surprise; she hadn't expected him to just let himself into the apartment.

"Yes. Something's wrong with Starchaser."

She could clearly see the worried frown that creased his expression even with his battlemask firmly in place.

"I'll see what I can do," he murmured, following her directions to the sleep room. Starchaser tossed and turned in the restless throes of yet another nightmare.

"Starchaser," he whispered, crouching beside her. "Come on, Star, time to wake up."

Irradia watched the medic with her daughter. He projected a gentleness that genuinely surprised her, not because he was an Autobot, but because Starchaser was - or at least until quite recently, had been - a Decepticon. From the look in his optics to the way he stroked her cheek, the Autobot medic treated Starchaser with a quiet fondness that struck Irradia as remarkable.

"First Aid?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he whispered, still caressing her cheek.

"Oh Primus," the young Femme breathed, "hold me."

First Aid eased Starchaser upright, resting his faceplate against the top of her head as he whispered soothing nothings to her, rocking her gently. Irradia's spark twinged at the pained fear that danced in her daughter's optics.

"Why?" Starchaser wheezed. "Why are you doing this? What has he done to deserve this?"

The medic looked back to meet Irradia's gaze, apparently as confused as she felt.

"Star, hon, what's wrong?"

"Momma?"

Starchaser pulled away from First Aid slightly to look up at Irradia. A slight frown marred her expression for a few moments, then faded into a look of numb acceptance.

"All a lie. You're so obsessed with the notion that he's some sort of a threat, that you can't handle the thought of leaving him alone. I hate you. I hate you all!"

She pulled free of the startled medic and ran out of the room.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" Irradia asked in quiet confusion.

"I don't know," First Aid confessed as he rose to his feet, "but it might be advisable to visit the camps and check on your son. Something Blurr is doing to him has her agitated."

"Thank you for coming so promptly."

"I only wish I could have been more help," he replied quietly. "Shall I have her brought back?"

"No. She has an escort; that should be enough. She will return when she's ready."

"As you say," the medic replied demurely. With a brief bow, he walked out of the apartment, leaving Irradia to her troubled thoughts.

Starchaser ran in a blind panic, lost in a hazy half-world, a meld of reality and the fears that had taken hold in her brother's isolation. She could feel his terror clawing at her spark, disorienting and painful in a way she had never experienced before. She could feel the seeds of madness taking root within him, slowly blossoming into something more, something dark and terrible that clawed at his spark. It made her want to scream, to run and fly as far away as she could possibly manage. It made her want to find a dark hole and hide forever. It made her want to just lay down somewhere and die.

When exhaustion finally caught her, she was lost, both physically and mentally. Her brother's hold on reality was slipping, under constant assult from the terrors made worse by his claustrophobia. In her weariness, she lost control of her blocks, and her mind was plunged into an encroaching blackness, a darkness that laughed in vicious glee as it watched her struggling futilely to keep the walls from crushing in on her. Terror welled up within her, coupled with a twisting, cloying madness. A darkness of the mind that beckoned and tempted with the promise of soothing hazes.

A hand reached through the bitter darkness, pushing away the raucous laughter from her mind. Uncertainty pulled at her as she tried to determine if what she was seeing was reality or just a hallucination brought on by the stifling darkness. Then First Aid slipped off his facemask and kissed her forehead lightly.

"It's going to be okay, Star. I promise."

Reality reasserted itself and Starchaser sagged weakly against the medic's chest. She could scarcely believe how easily she had been drawn into her brother's private hell. Or how powerfully real it had felt to her. If he hadn't come along to pull her back to reality. . . .

"Please . . . let him go. . . ."

"It's going to be okay, Star," the medic repeated gently. His arms folded around her protectively and with a deep sigh she allowed herself to relax into his embrace. First Aid had saved her once again.

Octane stood inside the the administration building, trying very hard not to be noticed. He had hoped that he might be allowed to take Sunrunner home. He hadn't expected to see her here.

Consort. The very word made him cringe inwardly, like a knife twisting in his spark housing. If Irradia saw him here . . . he didn't want to think about what she might do. Or what he might do. She had done more than simply turn her back on the Decepticons. That she didn't wear an Autobot sigil was immaterial; she was the Lord Regent's Consort. There could be no deeper betrayal than that.

Irradia glowered at Blurr, her rage at the warden barely held in check.

"What do you mean you won't release him?"

"I take my orders from Lord Magnus, not the slut of the cycle."

She backhanded him with a vicious growl, knocking him off his feet.

"Hit me all you like," he hissed venomously as he picked himself up off the floor, "I'm not letting him go without a signed order from Lord Magnus."

As much as she hated to lose face by walking away, she wasn't interested in wasting her time on his obstinance. However, when she looked up, she was surprised to see Octane standing just inside the door, trying very hard not to be seen.

"What in the name of the infernal pits is he doing here?"

If it were possible, Octane would have shrunk back even further. Blurr whirled around, a dark scowl touching his features as recognition lit his cold blue optics.

"What do you want?" he demanded harshly.

"N-nothing. I-I'm leaving now," the Decepticon sputtered. Suiting actions to words, he spun around and hurried out of the building.

"You let just anyone walk right in here?" Irradia sneered. "It's a wonder you don't have more escapees."

"You underestimate me Irradia. I wonder if they remembered to check for your control. Well, easy enough to discover."

"What are you talking about, Blurr?"

"Go ahead, walk through that door," he replied, gesturing towards the front door with a vicious grin. Unsettled but determined not to show it, she strode out of the building. Within two steps, she was assaulted with a burning pain through every circuit in her body. She fought against it, but she only managed one more step before collapsing to her knees. Blurr laughed at her as she pushed down a pained whimper. Just when she felt certain she must lose her battle against the agony she was feeling, he hauled her to her feet and dragged her back into the administration building. As soon as he did so, the pain faded to tolerable levels.

"Better call your surgeon," he laughed as he walked away.

"First Aid," she hissed into her commlink.

"First Aid reporting."

"Get your aft down here right now," she growled viciously, cutting the connection without even waiting for him to acknowledge. Blurr had known what would happen, and that angered her more than the fact that it had happened at all.

"You mustn't scowl like that, Irradia; your face may freeze that way."

"What did you do to me?" she demanded darkly.

"I did nothing, darlin'. Hardly my fault if you were treated like every other prisoner in Chimera's hull," Blurr replied smoothly, glancing past her as the outer door opened once more. A thin smile like an eel slipped across his face as he spoke: "And it's hardly my fault if your medic forgot to look for the control chip."

"Control chip? What control chip?" First Aid's rich tenor demanded sharply.

"Why, the same chip we implant in every prisoner brought to Iacon," the warden replied innocently. "How else do you think I can keep control of these camps with less than a hundred guards? The chips are implanted en route and activated by entering the electronic barrier. Once active, they can render a prisoner immobile within five steps of the perimeter. I would have thought someone would have thought to remove yours by now . . . Liegana."

First Aid picked up Blurr by the throat, a sudden and unexpected reminder that the medic was first and foremost a member of Ultra Magnus's warrior elite. He looked about ready to say something when he instead shook his head and dropped the warden.

"I'll deal with you later," he vowed in a low rumble. "Liegana. . . ."

Silently impressed, Irradia followed her bondmate's personal medic up to the medical wing of the administration building. Her own anger at being treated as nothing more than Ultra Magnus's plaything was beginning to cool, but she could tell First Aid was silently fuming over something.

"Spill it," she sighed after a moment of tense silence.

"Liegana?"

"You're stewing. Spill it."

"This," he muttered, holding up a small circuit board. "I shouldn't have needed to remove this at all. Groove never should have allowed you to be implanted. Any idiot could tell that Lord Magnus would have something special planned for you. For good or ill, you would not have been consigned to the slave camps.

"And then, for that self-important prat to let you activate it without even bothering to tell you. . . . I imagine he had you test it for him too, the sadist."

"Let me worry about Blurr. You get back to the Lair, before someone can miss you."

"By your command," he replied, though she wasn't convinced that the medic wouldn't take out his ire on Groove in any case. Slipping lightly out of the medical wing, she let herself into Blurr's office, stalking up to his desk on silent feet.

"You have a lot of nerve," she purred, a twinge of satisfaction rolling through her as she watched the warden jump in surprise.

"I've already told you, I'm not handing him over to you. I have my orders."

"And do you really think," she purred, leaning across the desk towards him, "that Lord Magnus intended for you to torture his son in solitary confinement?"

"If Lord Magnus wants you to have him," Blurr replied with a cruel smile, leaning in until they were bare centimeters apart, "then he can come down here and tell me that himself."

"If that's the way you want to play it," she cooed, a wicked grin lighting her optics. "I'll be back, Blurr."

"I look forward to it," he replied, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin. Irritated beyond words, Irradia vowed to see that grin wiped off his face.

After thirty-seven reports on the state of Imperial trade relations, both internal and external, Ultra Magnus decided he had seen more than enough of the inside of his office for awhile. He knew full well he didn't have to scan the reports that flowed into his office in a regular procession; he had several perfectly capable adjutants to summarize the blasted things for him. Still, he took perverse pleasure in scanning the reports themselves from time to time, to make sure his staff was still performing properly. With Irradia once more at his side as his personal assistant, he expected he would have to doublecheck his staff even less frequently, leaving him with more time for other duties. Such as planning the next expansion of the Empire. And finding a more permanent solution to the Prime problem.

"Ægis!"

"Liege?"

"Hold my calls until I say otherwise. I am unavailable to anyone aside from the High Command until further notice."

"By your command, Liege," his chief adjutant replied, saluting crisply before preceeding the warlord out of his office. Ultra Magnus ignored the obsequious corporal, striding past him into the depths of the Lair. He was looking forward to some quiet time alone to meditate and unwind. However, he felt obliged to confess, even if it was only to himself, that he was not particularly displeased to see Irradia pacing his antechamber, apparently waiting for his return.

"Well now," he murmured quietly, "you're certainly in a foul mood."

"Don't patronize me, Magnus."

"Never, my dear," he replied with a quiet smile, moving past her to drop a handful of datapads on the desk. "But normally when you're this . . . annoyed . . . you seek me out rather than pacing my apartment like some newly-caged beast. So tell me, my dear, what troubles you this time?"

"It would seem, my dear, that your . . . exploits in the bedroom, as it were, have become rather common knowledge. Being your Consort seems to be quite the meaningless thing."

"Hardly meaningless," he rumbled in reply, settling into his favorite chair. "Who is bothering you this time?"

"Once, my word was as good as yours!" she fumed in response. "Now Blurr refuses to release Sunrunner into my custody without your word!"

"Perhaps it is just as well, as you said nothing to me about this desire," he responded, frowning darkly.

"You do not live with Starchaser's nightmares," she muttered back moodily. "There is no need for him to be kept in solitary confinement. He is not so dangerous as that."

"He is my son, Irradia, with all that means," Magnus replied, reaching up to seize her hand and thus stop her pacing. "So long as he clings to Decepticon ideals, he is a danger to me and to the Empire. I will do what I must to remove that threat."

"Paladin could be a powerful ally. Leave him in Blurr's hands and you may yet be forced to make him a martyr. In my care . . . perhaps he would not turn, but at least there would be some chance of it."

"I will . . . consider your words, my dear. But later. And I will also consider how we might . . . remind Iacon that you are my bonded mate, my equal and not some idle whim. It will not be easy, however, dearest. You did leave me for the Decepticons; you rather ruined your own power base with that move."

"I know," she sighed. "It . . . it seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"Of course it did," he soothed. "I will likely have to make an example of someone . . . but not Blurr. He is still too useful to me. Find me another, and all will be properly reminded of your station, my dear."

He smiled as Irradia let herself be pulled into his embrace, her temper exhausted.

"But enough business," he murmured. "I came home to relax and I intend to do just that."

"Hmm, perhaps I can assist you with that," she replied, a slow smile spreading across her lips. He chuckled softly as she relaxed against his chest.

"I fully intend for you to . . . assist me," he purred, easily lifting her into his arms. Her optics shaded to deep garnet, a low, wordless purr of pleasure seeping out of her as she molded herself against his chest. He only paused long enough to engage the privacy settings on both the door lock and the commlink.

Several hours after Irradia had tried to demand the release of her son, Blurr received a simple message from Lord Magnus: "Release him from solitary or face me."

Octane didn't know quite what to think of the abrupt summons Shockwave had received only moments before, or of his own inclusion, albeit at Shockwave's behest. He was even more stunned when Shockwave walked out of the administration building with an obviously disoriented Sunrunner stumbling at his side. Shocked, he nevertheless immediately went to his friend's aid, helping him remain upright.

"Shockwave? What has happened?"

"I know only that he has been returned to us, Octane," the former general murmured. It was hardly a satisfactory answer, but it would have to do, for now.

"Oc- . . . -tane. . . ."

"Shh, hush, Sunrunner. Come, let's get you home," the spiritualist murmured.

"Time. Wha . . . what time. . . ?"

"Twenty breems to third shift. Now hush, 'Runner, save your strength. You've been away for several days."

The yellow warrior slumped against Octane, barely able to aid in his own movement. The spiritualist all but carried his friend back to Shockwave's home, settling his bulk on the pallet in the back room.

"Rest now, Sunrunner."

"'Tane? Where are we?"

"Shh . . . we're in Shockwave's home. Sleep now, Sunrunner."

"Don't . . . don't leave me," the warrior rasped in desperation, seizing Octane's arm in a vise grip.

"I won't," he whispered back, gently patting Sunrunner's hand. "I'll be right here, I promise. Just rest."

The fire slowly faded from Sunrunner's optics as they dimmed to deep sapphire. Air sighed out of the warrior's systems, accompanied by faint creaks as his body relaxed. And yet, his hand still maintained an unbreakable hold on Octane's arm. When it became clear his shattered friend wasn't about to let go, no matter how deeply asleep, Octane sighed and allowed himself to relax into a meditative state.

In a chaos of half-formed nightmares, Sunrunner felt himself reaching outward. Hazy mists coalesced into a room of greys and blacks and faded edges . . . and his sister.

"Starchaser?"

"I'm here, Brother."

"Oh thank the Maker," he sighed, sweeping her into a hug. "Where are we?"

"I . . . I'm not sure. Are you okay?"

"I . . . I think so. I . . . I thought you were dead. . . ."

"Not dead, not yet, Bro. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I . . . I can't remember. So hard to think. . . ."

"I have news for you," she said, hesitating a moment to hug him again. "You have to tell the others. I don't know what good it will do, but . . . the Empire's taken a new world, a planet called Earth. The Prime is there . . . and so is Megatron."

"That's . . . that's not possible. Megatron's been dead for . . . for millenia. . . ."

"He's alive, on Earth. Megatron, Soundwave, Starscream . . . they're all still alive. You have to tell the others."

"No . . . this is just a dream. . . ."

"This is a dream, but it's real too, 'Runner. Please, Brother, you have to tell the others. This could give them the hope they need. . . ."

"A dream . . . it's all a dream . . . and I'll wake up in that blackness again. . . . It laughs at me, Star, laughs at my hopelessness. . . ."

"Hold on, 'Runner," she whispered, but he could already feel the dream falling apart.

Starchaser woke up with a start, bolting upright briefly before collapsing back with a defeated sigh. She had been so close . . . and he thought it was only a dream. She tried reaching his mind again through their link, but he was in chaos, his thoughts swirling in a haze of confusion, hopelessness, and pain. Starchaser had been overwhelmed at the shattered feel of his mind before. Now it was even worse and she had no idea how to reach through his own shattered confusion to make herself heard. At a loss to know who else to contact, she tricked the computer into direct-dialing Neo's commlink.

"This is Neo."

"I'm sorry, Mentor, but I don't know who else to contact. I . . . I need your help."

"You know, I have responsibilities of my own . . . none of which include babysitting the lord regent's daughter and walking her through her twin link every time she hits a snag. If you want Guild help, go through channels . . . and stop dialing mine!" he snapped, cutting the connection. Taken aback by the suddenness of Neo's sign-off, Starchaser collapsed into the desk chair. To be treated so harshly for seeking help. . . .

A quick check told her the apartment was empty. Suddenly anxious not to be alone, she had the computer run a search for her mother. However, she felt almost ill when it yielded the location of Ultra Magnus's apartment. She knew they were Regent and Consort, and when she was feeling especially honest with herself, she knew they were bonded mates. She knew they were her creators. And yet, the thought of Irradia spending time with the callous warlord gave her the shakes. Sire or not, she did not fully trust him.

She tried to entertain herself, but as a neutral civilian, she had no real access and nothing to do. She didn't want to push her luck trying to hack into the network; Imperial security routines were the most sophisticated known, and she didn't want to think about what might happen to her if she were caught granting herself more access than she was supposed to have. At the same time, she was horrendously bored. Worse, she was lonely. She knew almost no one, however. She knew Variance only as an occasional escort and her mother's sometimes bodyguard. The only other Autobot she knew was First Aid and she was reluctant to interrupt him for something as ultimately trivial as mere boredom. It was entirely possibly that he wouldn't be the least bit interested in spending time with her anyway, though something in her doubted that.

The sheer oppressiveness of her boredom soon convinced her that the risks were worth the attempt. Steeling herself against another harsh rejection, she called First Aid.

"This is First Aid," the medic's warm tenor responded.

"I'm sorry to bother you but, um. . . ."

"Starchaser? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Well, um, I'm bored," she confessed lamely.

"That hardly sounds like a medical condition," First Aid responded with a light chuckle.

"I . . . I know. It's just, well, I don't really have computer access and I don't have anything to do and, well, I don't know anyone else, and, um, I'm bored."

"Well, I have some time free. Would you like me to drop by?"

"Please?" she replied quietly, cringing inwardly at the desperate pleading in her tone.

"I'll be there in a little bit. First Aid out."

Now that he was on his way and she had a moment to think, she realized she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She had just called the Lord Regent's personal medic and essentially invited him to her quarters to do . . . who knew what. More astonishing, to her at least, he had accepted her invitation.

She was just beginning to seriously worry about what he was expecting to do when the door chime rang out, disrupting her chain of thought.

"It's open," she called out. First Aid walked in and she could almost see the smile hiding behind his faceplate.

"So . . . I hear you're bored. . . ."

"Yeah," she replied lamely.

"Well . . . what would you like to do?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be bored," she replied with a faint grin.

"Fair enough," he replied, a hidden grin of his own coming through clearly in his voice. "Well, how about a game of shiv'kri?"

"I, um, haven't ever played it."

"Well, it's rather like pentalakezz, only with three boards instead of five.

"Um, I haven't played that either."

"I suppose next you'll tell me you haven't ever played Sekuu either."

"Well . . . I haven't," she admitted, embarrassed. "We didn't play any games."

"Really? Never? I'm surprised; it was probably Irradia's favorite game. Then again, she had a hard time getting anyone but Lord Magnus to play Sekuu with her; she couldn't lose. Why don't we start with that, since that's probably the easiest to learn, even if it is the hardest to actually master."

First Aid kept up a near-constant stream of conversation, explaining the rules and then helping her with basic moves and countermeasures. He walked her through three games, all of which he won easily, but she didn't mind. She liked listening to him talk, taking comfort in the sound of his voice. When he suggested a new game, Mi'djit, she was happy to learn it as well. She listened, rapt, as he explained the simple rules and the Nathi origins of the old stones game. It was one he had played frequently when he had still been subject to tours of duty with the rest of the Mercuries, but that he didn't seem to play much anymore. Starchaser found herself liking the game for no real reason she could discern, except that First Aid seemed to enjoy playing it so much.

Halfway through the second game she realized he was paying more attention to her than he was to his moves. She hadn't ever been the focus of anyone's attention before, let alone someone like First Aid, and she found herself enjoying it. She could tell his gameplay was suffering, so she tried to let him win. The games stretched longer and longer, until either he noticed or he started paying better attention. Either way, he was soon winning more than he was losing.

"Star, I . . . oh. First Aid. Is everything okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, everything's fine. Starchaser was feeling lonely. I had some time off, so I offered to keep her company. And . . . oh my, I hadn't intended to spend quite this much time here," and he trailed off with a rueful chuckle.

"Thank you for your company," Starchaser murmured demurely.

"Most welcome. We shall have to do this again some time," he replied, his voice colored with his hidden smile. "Irradia, I can't believe you didn't teach them Sekuu."

Another smile twinkled in his optics and then he was gone.

"What was that all about?"

"I was bored. You weren't here. He was willing to keep me company. That's all."

"And the Sekuu?"

"He taught me the basics, but I still have a lot to learn."

"I'll say," Irradia replied in an oddly disgruntled undertone. "Don't play that game anymore, Star."

"But . . . why not?

"It's dangerous. Once the game starts, it never truly stops. Each game builds off the last. First Aid is a cunning Sekuu player; he remembers every move of every lay of the board and who he played with each set."

"Wait . . . you mean Sekuu is a gambling game? He never told me that. . . ."

"No . . . Sekuu is gambling. With your life. I don't want you playing it anymore."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't, hon. There's a reason I only ever play with your sire. But every move is an exchange, and every counter a promise. Some people do play it without attaching all the meanings to the moves, but First Aid isn't one of them. How much did you play?"

"Three games," Starchaser admitted in a low murmur.

"He won all three, didn't he?"

She only nodded, worried that her mother would be angry with her.

"Save the memory of every move. Write them down, in order, before the memory file can risk corruption. I'll explain everything when you're done, okay?"

"Okay. . . . Um, I have a question, though."

"What's that, hon?"

"Is there any way I can get a message to 'Runner? I don't think he believes it's really me through our link."

"You can't, but I can. Get those moves down, then you can write a note to your brother, okay?"

"Okay. . . ."

Starchaser held stills of the games in her mind, carefully documenting each move as she slowly walked back through all three games. Now that she could see the game more objectively, she could see missed opportunities, see the weaknesses in her defenses that First Aid had exploited. But the idea that a hidden language was staring at her frightened her. The way her mother spoke of the game, she was almost afraid to know what had happened without her realizing it.

Irradia strode into the administration building, intent this time that nothing was going to get in her way. Blurr was nowhere in sight, but that hardly mattered, and it was probably to her benefit. The staff would be much easier to intimidate without the warden around to counter her authority. Striding up to the admittance desk, she slammed her palm down on the countertop to get the receptionist's attention.

"Is there something you want?" the Femme noncomm behind the counter asked frostily, eyeing her hand with disdain. Her attitude, however, quickly vaporized when recognition lit her suddenly pale optics.

"Bring me Octane," she ordered with a thin smile.

"I . . . I can't just bring you a prisoner. There's p--"

"I don't care how you do it," she growled, leaning over the counter to glare down at the quaking receptionist, "just bring him to me. Now."

The Femme sputtered for a moment, before skittering away from the counter to take the stairs to the second level two at a time. Irradia allowed herself another small smile as she noticed the rest of Blurr's staff working very hard not to draw her attention.

Perhaps Magnus won't have to kill anyone after all, she thought absently. Ah, but why spoil his fun? Such punitive reminders do tend to stick in the memory centers more fully, in any case. And he does so enjoy making an example of someone. . . .

Blurr stared at the report on his desk screen without actually seeing it. He disliked having his authority overruled when it came to the disposition of his own charges. He couldn't ignore the dictates of Lord Magnus, of course, but the entire reason he even enjoyed his job was the near autonomy of his post. He was lord of his domain . . . even if it was one few Autobots cared to acknowledge. Their distance only made his authority with the inmates stronger. As had the more judicious use of the threat of the arena holding cells than had previously been the norm. Random brutality in enforcement was a far better control than mere random whim.

"Sir? Sorry to disturb you, but we have a problem. . . ."

He looked up to see his new receptionist - he couldn't remember her name, and at the moment, he wasn't sure he even cared - cowering just inside the door to his office.

"What is it now?" he grumbled, flicking the switch on his screen. Perhaps the break from his reading would be something worthwhile. Perhaps it would be something where he could reassert his authority, something to take his mind off of the orders of his liege lord and the irritating turncoat who was responsible for the warlord's intervention. Yet somehow he very much doubted it.

"The Consort is here, demanding that the prisoner Octane be brought to her. What should I do?"

It was an unusual request, to put it mildly. He had no reason to deny her request, besides pure spite. And certainly such a spiteful action could very well be throughly enjoyable. However, judging from the way the receptionist was acting, Irradia wasn't likely to take "no" for an answer. As much enjoyment as he derived from baiting her, he knew full well there was nothing to be gained by pushing her too far.

"Sir? What should I do?"

"Get Octane and bring him to her. But don't let him leave with her. No matter what."

"Yes sir!"

Octane wasn't entirely sure what had happened in the course of Sunrunner's dreams to encourage the warrior to release him, but he was grateful for the freedom of movement. It was a contradiction of his life that he could easily spend several hours in meditation, yet could not bear to simply sit idle for very long. And with Sunrunner's restless nightmares, meditation had not proven very effective.

He often wondered at the quirks of fate that shaped his life. He had been sparked into a world only just beginning to feel the power of the Autobot resurgence. By the time of Shockwave's capture, he was already living in an off-world settlement, one of several attempts to live normal lives, to try to hide away from the war that threatened to destroy their homeworld. It would not be be his last. And now, vorn later, he was a prisoner of the very Empire he had sought to escape . . . and Shockwave's assistant.

"Shockwave? I'm looking for someone called Octane. . . ?"

"And you have found him," Octane volunteered softly as he walked into the room. Shockwave nodded his confirmation. Octane didn't recognize the Decepticon standing before them, but that was hardly a surprise.

"The 'bots are agitated over something. I was told to bring you to the Admin building, and I got the distinct impression that if I didn't hurry, it was going to be my wings . . . or worse."

"I don't suppose you know why," he murmured as he walked out with the Seeker.

"She didn't say and I wasn't curious enough to ask."

"Well, I'm sure I'll find out soon enough," he replied with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He offered a silent prayer to the All-Father for protection as he hurried to the administration building.

Irradia lightly drummed her fingers on the counter, the most blatant sign of her impatience as she watched the far door. She was beginning to wonder if she needed to search for Octane herself when he walked into the building. Halting the drumming of her fingers, she watched loathing fall over his face as he caught sight of her.

"All right," the receptionist muttered, "you wanted him, here he is."

Hate warred with dread as Octane approached her. She favored him with a small smile. He recoiled as if bitten, scowling at her with unbridled disgust.

"How quickly he reviles me," she murmured as he stood before her, shoulders twitching slightly in agitation. "But despite what you may think, Octane, I am not here to hurt you. In fact, I have something for you."

She shunted in a small datapadd, holding it out to him.

"From her hand to mine, from mine to yours, from yours to Sunrunner's. No other is to see these words."

"Why?" he asked in quiet confusion.

"Now wait just a minute. . . ."

"So he will know her voice is real," Irradia replied, ignoring the protesting receptionist. "Give it directly to Sunrunner, no one else."

"You can't do that!" the Femme screeched in protest.

"He can and he will. You will not interfere," Irradia growled, at last glaring at the receptionist.

"There are rules . . . regulations . . . protocols. . . . You can't just give him a datapadd! We have to scan it!"

"You heard my instructions Octane."

As if just remembering he was able to do such things, Octane shunted the datapadd into his subspace pocket. For a moment, Irradia wondered if the receptionist was going to go into convulsions.

"What in the name of Cybertron is going on down here?!" Blurr demanded irritably, quickly crossing the room to glower at both Irradia and Octane.

"She gave him a datapadd without letting us scan it first," the receptionist supplied in what was likely intended to be a helpful tone. Blurr turned to Octane and held out his hand expectantly. The spiritualist hesitated, glancing between the irate warden and Irradia.

"Give it to me now, and I won't throw you in solitary," the warden growled.

"You have my instructions, Octane," Irradia rumbled, her gun suddenly in her hand and resting against the base of Blurr's neck. The spiritualist's optics grew wide as the warden hissed in displeasure. Octane sketched a quick bow, then left with all haste.

"Now then . . . see how easy it is to get things done when we're all reasonable beings? And, of course, as reasonable beings, we all know there's no need to do anything to Octane, right? He's being a good prisoner, just doing as he's told, right? I'm sure, as a reasonable Autobot, you agree with me, don't you Blurr? Because I'd hate to think you weren't reasonable. We might have to replace you with someone who was, if that were the case. And that would be a shame, don't you think?"

"Yes, it would," he muttered.

"Then you agree with me, that the only reasonable thing to do is go on about normal business, yes?"

"Of course."

"And you agree that there's no need to do anything to Octane, yes?"

"No need at all."

"Because, between us, I'm rather fond of the misguided spiritualist, so I'd hate to hear something had happened to him. I'd be rather . . . disappointed. You don't want to disappoint me, do you Blurr?"

"No . . . no, I suspect that would be . . . unpleasant. For all of us."

"Quite likely," she agreed. "But of course that won't be an issue, because we're all reasonable beings and we all agree that there's nothing that needs to be done about my little favor."

"As you say, Liegana."

"Good. I'm glad we had this little chat, Blurr," she replied, at last shunting her weapon back into subspace. The warden turned to face her with smoldering optics. She favored him with a vicious smile, which was rewarded by a slight flinch.

"I won't take up any more of your time then."

Blurr nodded sharply, turning the receptionist back to her work. Irradia held his gaze a moment longer, then walked out of the building.

Octane had never moved so swiftly in his life. He could feel himself shaking and he had the sinking feeling that he would be the one to pay for Irradia's arrogance.

"You were not gone for long. What happened?"

"If something should happen, I should like very much for you to know that it has been my honor and pleasure to serve you, Shockwave. Now, if you will excuse me, I have something I must give to Sunrunner."

He hurried past the confused former general to crouch next to Sunrunner's prone form. Before he could reach out to touch his friend and waken him, the warrior sat upright and stared at him with narrowed blue optics.

"What do you want?" the warrior muttered darkly, accusation clear in his expression and tone.

"From her hand to Irradia's, from Irradia's hand to mine . . . and now from mine to yours," he said quietly, handing over the datapad. Sunrunner scanned it, then read it again, confusion clear in his expression. Octane waited patiently, praying the message was worth what he would likely have to pay for it.

Sunrunner stared at the datapadd in confusion, a cloud of doubt washing through his thoughts. His mind felt like it was wrapped in a thick fog, shading everything with the impression that he was still dreaming. It helped nothing that his last memory that he was certain was not a dream was of a dark hole and vile laughter, with no transition to this current location. But the glyphs on the datapad in his hands did not change and he was at last forced to admit that they would not. Still not entirely certain he wasn't dreaming the entire thing, he read the message once more.

Dear brother, I must be brief. What you saw was no lie. I, too, was there. And what I told you was no lie. They live. Please . . . tell the others. Though I may no longer be one of you, I could not let this go unshared. May it give you the strength I could not possess.

"Sweet merciful primini preserve us," he breathed.

"'Runner? What is it?"

"Octane? 'Tane . . . I . . . I think I have news. . . ."

"Let me get Shockwave, then. . . ."

"Shockwave? He's here?" he asked, incredulous, but the spiritualist was already gone. A moment later, he returned with the legendary general. Sunrunner felt as if the floor had gone out from under him, the joy of his news going sour at this revelation. Shockwave had been the great hope of the Decepticon cause after Megatron was presumed dead. He had heard a million stories of the legendary general's victories . . . and his narrow escapes. When he was captured . . . no one had known what had happened. Rumors spanned the gamut, from claims that he had never been captured, to fanciful tales of his escape, to dark whispers of his death. After so many vorn, Sunrunner could only conclude that the noble warrior had been killed; if he had lived, surely he would have returned to lead the Decepticons against the Empire. To see him alive . . . it made his head hurt to even try to understand it.

"What news, my son?"

For a moment, Sunrunner couldn't imagine what the distinctive Decepticon before him was talking about. Then he remembered the datapad in his hands, the words he had read ten times, each time expecting them to change. And he remembered his dream . . . and his sister's words.

"The Empire has a new world, Earth, and the Prime is there . . . he's staying there to fight Decepticons. He's staying there to fight Megatron."

"Megatron? Surely not. . . . After all these long vorn, surely he must be dead. . . ."

"Megatron, Soundwave, Starscream . . . they're alive. They're all alive, and they're fighting the Empire."