Chapter 8

Sideswipe kept to the narrow side roads on his way back to Iacon. He needed time to process what he had just witnessed in Antihex, and to decide his next move. He had long suspected that the Neutrals were keeping up a front; he had known that they were not as impartial or altruistic as they wanted everybody to believe, but he had never imagined such a dangerous, clandestine agenda underlying their true motives.

It was only a short while later, as Iacon’s iconic Command Center came into view before him, that he was able to fully comprehend just how much the Autobots were in danger. However, the danger did not come from any Decepticon this time – no, the reality was much more sinister than that, and not just because it all seemed to be unfolding right under their very noses – the worrisome part was that very few, if any, Autobots had any clue about what was actually going on. There were so many new questions that he needed to have answered but, also, so many questions that he could now answer. The Neutrals were the one piece of the whole puzzle that had never seemed to fit together just right. Until now.

Speeding ahead, he engaged his brakes a little too late as he approached the grand entrance and overshot his mark.

“Hey, watch it!” a gruff voice called out, and he realized with annoyance that it was a mini-bot. He had almost run him over in his vehicle mode – a sleek, red hover car. Transforming into his robot mode, he approached the mech with the intention of offering him an apology. “Why don't you watch where you're going?” the mini-bot reprimanded him.

“Look, I'm sorry, but I didn't see you and–” Sideswipe stopped in front of him, looked down upon his much shorter frame. He could have intimidated him easily enough, if he'd had the inclination.

“Yeah? Save it for someone who cares.” The tough-talking mech was already in a foul mood, and their minor altercation had only made things worse.

He was beginning to test Sideswipe's patience. “You know what? That's just fine with me, Brawn,” he replied and then started to turn away, heading towards the large, double doors that led into the Command Center within Iacon Central.

“Hey! I remember you,” the mini-bot called out after him and Sideswipe hesitated, turned back. “You’re that Side-slagger,” he mocked.

The sound of his voice made Sideswipe want to cringe. “It’s Side-swipe, and if I’d known it was you I would have just run you over!” he shot back.

“Oh, yeah – well, I dare ya!” Brawn replied, placing his hands on his hips, and then paused in thought, appraising him. “Didn't think you had the mettle to show your face around here again.”

Sideswipe couldn't believe Brawn's blatant insensitivity; if that was how he truly felt, the least he could have done was keep his unwanted remarks to himself. Sideswipe opened his mouth to say something in reply, but then changed his mind. Instead, he shook his head in disbelief and started to walk away again. He didn't need this right now; he had bigger problems to deal with.

“What’s the matter – forgotten how to act like a true warrior?” Brawn continued to taunt him as he watched the taller Autobot walk away.

Sideswipe couldn’t listen to him; the nerve of that mini-bot was proving to be too much and he spun around, shouted back at him. “Why don’t you go and stick your head in the waste processor, Brawn? I don’t have time for your slag.” Brawn stared back at him critically, but made no further comment.

Sideswipe turned his back toward him one more time and continued on his way. He didn't stop until he reached the double doors to Iacon Central, making his way determinedly up the wide steps. He input his security code at the door panel, half-expecting to be denied entry and, sure enough, was confronted with an error message from Teletraan II. He looked about, pausing for an instant before attempting the same code a second time. Receiving the same error message, he slammed an open hand against the door, leaned against it in frustration. “Come on, open up,” he tried to coax it, but he knew that it was a pointless exercise.

‘Please enter your security code,’ the central computer requested, ever patient.

“Apparently, I no longer have one,” he said aloud, and then shook his head. He began to head back down the steps, looking for an alternative means of getting inside the Command Center, but was stopped by a friendly voice from behind him.

“The codes were all changed.” He turned back around to see the welcome sight of Arcee. “Here, maybe I can help.” She walked up to the doors and input her code. The doors slid open without issue.

“Thanks!" he said, and smiled at her warmly. “It's sure good to see you again.”

She smiled back at him, led the way inside. “And why is that?” she teased.

“Uh, no reason.” He glanced back towards Brawn, but the mini-bot was nowhere in sight.

Thankfully, she changed the subject. “So, have you decided to rejoin the ranks, then?”

“What?” Sideswipe started, confused, but then quickly caught on. “Oh, well, no. Not exactly.” She waited expectantly for him to continue, and an awkward silence followed before he explained further. “Actually, I need to speak to Prime about something.”

“Optimus isn’t here at the moment, but you can speak to Prowl instead?” Arcee accompanied him up a few levels until she came to a stop in the hallway that led through to the control room. “Well, here we are. You’ll need proper authorisation to enter beyond this point,” she informed him in a friendly manner.

He nodded, and thought that her optics expressed a subtle, unexplained sadness, despite her cheerful manner. “Thanks. Really. For everything.” He looked about the brightly lit hall, and memories of times now past came flooding back into his main processor. “I can’t believe how much things have changed since I was here last.”

“That's exactly what I thought, too.” Arcee looked at him empathically. Her expression showed slight concern, though she didn't make any further comment.

Sideswipe paused, and returned her gaze. “Arcee… I'm sorry, where are my manners?” He sighed, shook his head. “I completely forgot to ask about you. How have you been?”

She shrugged, smiled again. “Great. Everyone's been so wonderful. I've been assigned to help out in the med bay. It's… kind of a dream come true for me, actually.”

“That's great. I'm happy for you, Arcee. I really am.”

She thought that he seemed distant, his thoughts a million miles away. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked him, her voice soothing.

“I’m not sure.” He focused his gaze upon her once more, deciding whether he should confide in her before he spoke to the Autobot higher-ups about the traitorous Alliance. Right now, she was the only Autobot he knew that he could really trust. “I–” He shook his head, looking away. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Arcee.” He still wasn’t certain himself about the implications of sharing what he’d just learned about the Neutrals and the Autobots in Antihex who had joined them. Letting the other Iaconian Autobots know would most likely create a division among them; some would undoubtedly fight to stay with the Alliance, whilst others would bravely face the truth of the situation, whether they liked it or not. He was almost certain that there would be consequences to blowing the cover on the Neutrals’ agenda that he hadn’t even considered yet.

She nodded in understanding, ever patient. “When I’m having difficulty with something I find that, sometimes… the best way to deal with the situation is to just come straight out and say it.”

Sideswipe contemplated her words, took his time doing so. He respected her, not just as an ally but also as a good friend. He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled slowly. “Okay. I think… the Autobots have made a huge mistake.”

Arcee nodded, listening carefully as he spoke, genuinely interested in what he had to say. She did not want him to feel uncomfortable; it was obvious that something weighed heavily on his mind and, whatever it was, she sensed the seriousness of it. He would not have come back to Iacon Central otherwise. She let him continue.

“Forming an alliance with the Neutrals. They’re bad news, Arcee – real bad news. And I think we might all be in danger.”

A look of consternation crossed her face as she tried to make sense of what he had just told her. He did not need to convince her of the truth of his words, nor did she need to know all the details about what he may have seen or heard recently that had caused him to come to such a drastic conclusion. She lowered her voice, placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll go and find Prowl. Will you be alright to wait here? I shouldn’t be too long.”

“Sure,” he said, taking another deep inhale. “Go ahead; I’ll wait here.”

“Okay,” she replied, and then started across the hall towards the control room, her steps quick and light.

Sideswipe waited in the hall, watching her go until she disappeared from sight.

Optimus had been kept almost an hour in the holding cell. Being isolated from the rest of the Autobots was difficult enough, but not knowing where they were, or even if they were still alive, was something that he could barely tolerate much longer. His thoughts kept returning to recent events; Elita and her crew's sudden departure from Cybertron; Jazz's consequential actions against the High Council's directive; Groove's critical condition back at Iacon; and now, the immediate danger to his small team of Autobots, who had more than likely also been captured by the Decepticons.

So when Megatron eventually re-entered the small room, this time unaccompanied, he felt a certain sense of relief, despite the circumstances. As the leader of the rival faction stood before the cell’s energy bars, Optimus couldn’t help but try to fathom what the other was thinking behind the strong, red glow of his optic sensors.

“I have listened to your proposition, Optimus Prime… and now you will listen to mine,” Megatron said, his tone steady, uncompromising. Optimus faced him but said nothing, allowing him to speak. “I have tried to reason with you on several occasions, and all for nothing. So, instead, I’m going to give you a choice, which is simply this: give me your word that no Decepticon shall come to any harm at the hands of the Alliance – and, in return, I shall allow your Autobot companions to go free… along with the Neutrals who accompanied you here. Or, you can refuse and discover for yourself what happens next.”

The Autobot leader looked back at his long-time adversary with restrained anger, though he was not surprised at the other's proposition – in fact, he should have expected something like it. “You know I can't ensure the safety of any Decepticon – especially if they continue to violate the rulings of Cybertron's governance agreement. Why don't you just let my team go? You have me… isn't that enough?”

Megatron shook his head in mock disappointment. “What use are you to me alone, Optimus Prime? I simply wish to ensure the safety and well-being of those under my command. Surely you, yourself, can understand that. But, if you do not give me your word… well, then… I cannot guarantee the safety and well-being of your own team.”

Optimus exhaled in frustration, turned away from him. Considering his options, he realized that the lives of his friends and fellow officers depended upon the decision that he was about to make. After a long moment in thought, he turned slowly around to face Megatron once more. “What's to stop me from simply going back on my word, the minute you've released us?”

The question was not one that the Autobot Prime Commander would have usually asked. Megatron held out his hands in a conversational gesture, palms open. “You are free to take that course of action, if you wish. Although, I hardly expect a Prime's promise to be without integrity or honour, and worth nothing. Only you, and your conscience, must bear the consequence of such an act.”

As much as Optimus hated to admit it, Megatron was right. He could make a false promise, give his word without any intention of honouring it afterwards; but, was he prepared to live with such a dishonourable act? As the Autobot's Prime Commander, speaking truth had always been synonymous with fighting for freedom and justice; values that he was not prepared to put aside for anyone, not even now. He had an obligation, an established code of honour to uphold, and the current situation did not justify going against it. Megatron knew this, of course, and was using it against him to get what he wanted. It left him with little choice. “Very well; I will instruct the Autobots under my command to cease enforcing the Council's directive. However, I have no power to tell the High Council or the Neutrals what to do in that regard.”

Megatron listened to his response, gave it serious consideration. “I accept your promise.” He gave a half-smile, satisfied that he had finally gained some ground with the Autobot leader. “I knew you'd make the right decision, Optimus Prime.”

The Decepticon leader left the room and, after a minute, Optimus felt the odd sensation of being teleported.

Sideswipe instinctively straightened as the Autobot Chief of Security appeared in the hallway from the main control center, accompanied by Arcee. Prowl slowed to a stop in front of him, looking him up and down as if he were appraising a new recruit. It made Sideswipe feel uncomfortable, but he refrained from commenting.

“Sideswipe,” Prowl greeted, his tone detached, formal. He gave a slight nod of his head. “It's good to have you back.”

He couldn’t determine the sincerity of Prowl’s words, nor was he able to determine what kind of response he was going to get after he’d said what he had come here to say. “Ah… yeah, look, I’m not here to…” Sideswipe hesitated, briefly glanced at Arcee for reassurance. She was smiling calmly back at him, her optics offering unwavering encouragement. He began again. “I’ve got to speak to Prime about the Alliance. It’s important.”

Prowl waited for him to continue, but when he didn't he prompted for more information. “I see. Prime is currently away on assignment, and has left me in charge.” He paused, contemplating the situation. “Whatever it is that you wish to tell him, you can tell me.”

Sideswipe nodded affirmatively. “Alright,” he responded. “Look, I just came here to warn you all…” He faltered, summoning the courage to speak what was on his mind.

“Just tell him what you told me, Sideswipe,” Arcee guided him gently, noticing his difficulty. “You'll do fine.”

He looked away momentarily before returning his gaze to Prowl’s reserved, expressionless face. Perhaps it was just a façade the Autobot second in command put on – his own way of masking deeply buried sentiments from a mental torment that he did not allow himself to acknowledge. Not a single warrior that he had ever known had been left untouched by the Great War, in one way or another. You should never judge a bot by his color, his twin and brother, Sunstreaker, had always told him – or, in this case, by his lack of expression. He fought to push those memories out of his mind, not wanting to focus upon his own inner turmoil. “To tell you that the Alliance with the Neutrals has to end. They’ve been lying to you from the beginning. If you don’t do something now, it’ll be too late. They’re already planning a take over, even as we speak.”

“I see,” Prowl replied uncertainly. “Sideswipe, you are making an extremely serious accusation. You do realize that?” He did not doubt Sideswipe’s sincerity, or the fact that he truly believed what he was telling them; his main concern was whether the former Autobot warrior wasn’t deluding himself. Sideswipe looked confused by his remark and did not respond immediately, so he sighed, nodded. “Very well. Let us talk somewhere in private. Please, follow me,” he said, and then turned and started to walk back up the hall towards the control center.

Sideswipe hesitated, glancing at Arcee, before hurriedly catching up with the second in command.

* * *

The door to the conference room closed as Prowl took a seat at the table. He indicated for Sideswipe to do the same, taking his time before speaking. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, Sideswipe, so I’ll be honest with you.” He sighed, exhaled slowly, carefully. “As I said earlier, the accusations you made are serious. Of course, we cannot disregard any important matter that comes to our attention… however, what you’re saying – you must understand that for the Alliance to even consider investigating the validity of such an accusation will require at least some plausible grounds.”

The room fell quiet as Sideswipe absorbed Prowl's words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Wait – so… what you're telling me is, you're not going to do anything about it?”

Prowl sat back in his seat, folded his arms in front of him. “Not at all. In fact, if there's any truth to it you can rest assured that appropriate action will be taken.”

Sideswipe placed a hand under his chin in contemplation, looked down at the floor. “’If there’s any truth to it,’” he repeated. “You know, if I didn’t know you any better I’d say that you think I’m making it all up.” He looked up at Prowl whose his expression, as usual, was unreadable. “I do know you better than that… right, Prowl?”

A tense moment of silence followed, and Sideswipe was beginning to feel that perhaps he might have a harder time getting his message across to Autobot Command than he had first thought. When Prowl spoke again, his tone was harsher. “You should be thankful that I’m even taking the time to listen to your as yet unsubstantiated stories. As non-military personnel, the Alliance is under no obligation to take what you say under advisement, let alone respond to your accusations.”

“Unsubstantiated stories?” Sideswipe rose slightly from his seat, his palms planted firmly down on the table top. “I can't believe what you're telling me, Prowl. What the hell's gotten into you?” The blue light of his optics dimmed slightly as anger and frustration began to well up inside him. “Did you not comprehend one word I said?”

Prowl did not appear intimidated at all by the former warrior; if anything, Sideswipe’s outburst only helped justify his own position. “Every word.” He stood up and walked towards a wall terminal, proceeded to monitor a data stream on a small display screen in front of him. His back was turned towards the estranged warrior as he spoke. “You are convinced that the Neutrals, and the Alliance, pose a threat to the Autobots. You have based this on the claim that they have been deceitful in their dealings with us, and that they are planning to undermine our joint leadership… which would, by the way, effectively cancel the governance agreement. The very agreement that has guaranteed – and continues to guarantee – all Cybertronians working together to safeguard against the Decepticons and their allies, as well as the sharing of all resources for our mutual benefit.” He paused, considering his next question carefully. “Can you give me one good reason why they would want to work against us?”

Sideswipe gave an exasperated sigh, slowly sat back down again. “Look, I have no idea why – all I know is that it's the truth. I witnessed them talking about it with my own sensors – I was right there among them!”

Silence filled the room; and the uneasiness between the two was palpable. Prowl took his time answering, ignoring the agitated state of the other mech. Finally, he exhaled, slowly and deliberately. “There's also another consideration that needs to be dealt with. It concerns you, Sideswipe.”

This caused Sideswipe to look up at him with apprehension. He did not like where this conversation was heading. “Yeah, how so?”

Prowl stiffened, turning to face him again. “The circumstances of your dismissal from active duty–”

“I don’t see what that’s got anything to do with any of this,” Sideswipe rebutted quickly, cutting the other off mid-sentence.

“Please, let me finish.” Prowl's blue optical sensors gazed back at him; he emanated self-assuredness, and the authority that naturally came with his rank.

Sideswipe sighed, waving one hand dismissively as he looked away. “Go ahead.” There was nothing Prowl could tell him that he hadn’t already heard before, anyway.

Prowl spoke slowly and evenly for his benefit. “As I was saying, your dismissal from active duty occurred as a direct result of your unwillingness to cooperate with your superiors. You were spared the embarrassment of an officer’s review on compassionate grounds. However, in order for Cybertron Command to take your perspective into consideration, your past breach of our code of conduct will need to be re-evaluated.” He paused, sighed empathically. “Are you aware of what that would entail, Sideswipe?”

The former Autobot officer got up from his seat. “Yeah, I’m aware.” His tone was filled with disbelief and growing anger. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day when the Autobots place more importance on protocol than they do on the very real possibility of the destruction of our race!”

“Don’t you think you’re being just a little unreasonable–” Prowl interjected, beginning to lose his patience. He was spared from having to continue the conversation by an incoming alert on his communications link. “Excuse me one moment,” he said to Sideswipe, and activated the channel. “This is Prowl.” Silence followed as the message on the other end was conveyed to him in private. “I see. I’ll be there shortly.” Closing the link, he looked up at the red and black Autobot with a look that spoke of a sudden, untold tragedy and for the moment, at least, their disagreement was forgotten. He sighed in resignation. “I’m needed in the repair bay,” he informed Sideswipe as he decided what he should do with the troubled warrior. He couldn’t just turn him away; doing so now would only ensure that he would never return to Iacon Central again. Neither could he leave him alone in the command center without a valid security pass. His only other option was to keep him under his supervision – at least for the time being. “You are welcome to accompany me,” he offered finally, and then moved towards the door of the conference room, pressed a button on the access panel. As the door slid open he indicated patiently for Sideswipe to exit the room ahead of him, and they both started towards the maintenance and repair bay in silence.

Ratchet regained consciousness from what had felt like a long yet restless slumber. Disoriented, the first thing he became aware of was that he was lying flat on his back. He saw the familiar sight of Cybertron’s orange-tinged sky directly above him as the day began to give way to night. Sitting up warily, unsure of where he was or how he’d ended up here, the recent memory of his encounter with Rumble and Soundwave flooded back into his processor.

Looking about, he noticed that tall tower that occupied the former site of Darkmount fortress to his left – the same one that his team had been investigating before they had all been unexpectedly teleported to undisclosed locations. He stood up, checking his internal systems, and was relieved to find that he was functioning normally except for a slight energy drain from his power core. Then he remembered Optimus and the others who had arrived here with him, and realized that they were nowhere in sight.

However, something else caught his immediate attention then so he started away from the tower and towards the Neutrals. Each one of them was sprawled on the ground, unmoving. “What in the…” he uttered, astounded.

Many vorns of specialist repair experience took over and he rushed towards the nearest fallen bot, checking for vital signs. He spent a few moments with one only to move on to the next, and then the next; after checking several of the Neutrals he stopped, stepped back a little.

The scene before him reminded him of the disturbing eeriness that always followed a devastating massacre, except that every Neutral on this battle field had not been massacred; he had simply been off-lined, and drained of his primary energon reserves. Each would need to be transported back to a maintenance facility for refuelling, but there was nothing that a full recharge couldn’t fix, other than battered pride. He sent out a general assistance broadcast, waited for acknowledgment.

The manner in which four teams of Neutrals had been overpowered he could not have easily guessed though he could say, with almost certainty, who had been responsible.

“The Decepticons,” a deep, familiar voice said from behind him, and he turned around with a start. Relief flooded his circuits when he saw the large, blue and red mech standing there.

“Optimus. Thank the Heavens you’re all right,” Ratchet replied, and then saw the concern in the Autobot Commander’s optics as he surveyed the off-lined Neutrals for himself; he looked slightly defeated, but otherwise was fine. “Eh, they’ll be okay. I’ve called for assistance; maintenance teams should be here soon.” He waved a hand towards the unconscious Neutrals. “Though next time, I doubt they’ll be as fortunate.”

Optimus relaxed his shoulders, visibly relieved. “Hopefully, there won't be a next time.” He sighed. “What about the other Autobots; have we heard from them yet?” He sounded tired, withdrawn.

Ratchet shook his head. “Not yet. I only just…” He searched for the right words. “Got back a few moments ago.”

The Autobot leader activated his communications link so they could both hear it. “Trailbreaker, do you read me?” They waited for a response, but after a long moment there was only the crackling sound of static.

Ratchet shook his head in thought. “Maybe they're still–” he began, but was then cut short by the sound of a voice that suddenly came over the link.

“Prime? This is Trailbreaker.” The channel sounded weak, the voice distant.

Optimus glanced towards the tower. “Trailbreaker, do you know where you are?”

Trailbreaker seemed to take his time in responding. “Uh… hold on.” There was a slight pause as the defensive strategist got a lock on his position. “I’m about… one hundred megamiles from Central Iacon, bearing south-east, several sub-levels down.” The two Autobots looked at one another perplexedly.

“Is Bluestreak with you?”

“No, I'm alone.” He sounded uncertain, confused. “Prime… I don't remember how I got here. One moment I was with the rest of the team, and then the next…”

“Don't worry; I think I can answer that. Can you make your way back to headquarters?” Optimus asked him.

“Yeah, shouldn't be a problem. Uh, Optimus? There's something else,” Trailbreaker said, and then faltered.

Optimus waited for him to continue but the voice on the other end of the link remained quiet. “What is it, Trailbreaker?”

More silence followed, and then Trailbreaker's voice came through abruptly. “I'm not quite sure how to explain this, Optimus, but I think – there's something down here with me.”

Optimus stood motionless as he listened carefully to the transmission. “Some thing?” he asked, seeking clarification.

“Yeah. Like I said, I don't know how to describe it. I mean, I don't see anything, exactly, but… I can sense something, if you know what I mean. It's pretty dark down here, though.”

As Trailbreaker was speaking Ratchet was suddenly alerted to his own com link being activated. He nodded towards Optimus and then answered the transmission. “Ratchet here, go ahead.”

“Ratchet? Oh, hey, we sure are glad to hear your voice!”

“Hot Rod,” Ratchet identified the voice on the other end, more for Optimus' sake than for any other reason.

“That's me. Bluestreak's here, too.” Unlike Trailbreaker's voice, Hot Rod's came across loud and clear. “We're on our way back to your location.”

“Good to hear you're both alright.”

“You'll never guess what happened! We were transported to an underground tunnel of some kind – I think it was still in Polyhex, but–”

“Save it for later, Hot Rod. Just meet us back in Iacon soon as you can, would you?” Ratchet replied, unamused by the Autobot warrior's excitement though relieved that he, and Bluestreak, were both unharmed.

“Oh, okay, sure thing.”

“Good. Ratchet out.” The Autobot medic closed his com link and looked over at his Commander, who had also ended his communication with Trailbreaker. “Looks like we’re all present and accounted for, in a manner of speaking,” he said, and thought better of asking about Trailbreaker’s odd message.

“Let’s head back to headquarters,” Optimus said, thankful that Megatron had kept his promise, at least.

The two of them transformed into their vehicle modes and started on the main road back out of Darkmount, just as two maintenance teams arrived to transport the unconscious Neutrals to their nearest command post, most likely in Antihex.

Neither spoke a word during the rest of their journey back to Iacon.

Astro looked up at the illuminated sign that adorned the side of a grey, metallic building. ‘Roundup's Exotic Entertainment' it read in large, hard-to-miss Cybertronian letters. “This is it.” He sounded unimpressed, scanned the area for any recognizable signatures.

“Well?” his companion, Rook, waited expectantly.

Astro shook his head. “Nothing.” He began to walk away, heading back down the main street.

His partner watched him go, and then called after him. “Wait – so, what now?”

Astro stopped to turn back towards Rook. “We'll keep searching until we find him,” he answered, as if there was nothing else to say.

“Can you at least tell me who this Comet is that we're supposed to be looking for?” Rook asked, frustrated with the notion that, apparently, Astro still did not trust him. “I simply want to help!”

The blue mech hesitated, looking up towards the early morning sky. “All I can tell you is that he’s Cybertronian.”

“I already knew that,” Rook answered tersely, observing him critically. “Is he Decepticon?” Astro returned his gaze but said nothing so Rook tried asking him again, more forcefully, demanding an answer. “Is he Decepticon? Answer me!”

“I can't tell you that–” Astro repeated, but Rook would not take no for an answer.

“Damn it, Astro. If you want me to help you – if you want to truly give me that second chance you talked about – then you’ve got to start trusting me.” Rook’s yellow optics glowered in frustration under his visor and, for the first time, Astro saw conviction in the mech – an inner strength and purpose that had been buried for far too long.

Finally, Astro began to let down his guard. “You're right,” he said quietly, and slowly exhaled before continuing. He nodded purposefully. “He is Decepticon.”

Rook took a small step back, solemnly taking in the information. “Would it be safe to say that you've already tried locking onto his signature? Signalled his private com link?” Under normal circumstances these methods should have worked, but it was obvious that this particular situation was far from normal.

Astro nodded affirmatively. “His unique signature is… untraceable. And, as far as his private com link goes, it's been deactivated.”

“I see,” Rook replied, intrigued. “So, other than looking for a Cybertronian signature I don't suppose you have any other way of tracking him down?”

Astro slowly shook his head. “No. Using any other method would have put him in danger.” Astro started back down the street resuming his scan for any possible sign of the Decepticon, until Rook interrupted him once more.

“Forgive me if this sounds untenable, but… have you tried scanning through all encrypted Decepticon transmission frequencies?”

“Of course, that's one of the first–” Astro began, but then stopped in his tracks as a sudden thought entered his processor. “Wait just one astro-second.” He adjusted his internal scanner to pick up additional signals from coded Decepticon emergency transmissions. “It's unlikely, but a possibility, nonetheless.”

Rook had to hurry to catch up to him again, and they walked together in silence until they had travelled a few more blocks. “I'm picking up a very erratic signal,” Astro said in surprise, and began to move quickly along the main street before turning right into a smaller access way. “It's coming from a Decepticon transceiver. Rook, you're a genius.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rook replied, perplexed.

“It appears the signal’s integrity is severely degraded.” He continued walking at a fast pace, as if he were afraid that if he stopped or slowed down he may lose the life line. “It’s unstable.” After several more minutes Astro finally stopped and looked about. They were in a narrow alleyway a good distance away from the main thoroughfare. “This is where the signal ends,” he said, searching for anything that might resemble a transceiver.

As Rook stepped forward the sound of metal clinking against the smooth, stone surface of the alleyway was picked up by their audio sensors, and he stooped low to retrieve the small object on the ground that he had flung aside with his foot. Examining it briefly, he carefully handed it to Astro. The object was, indeed, a Decepticon transceiver. However, it looked as though it had been crushed underfoot by a large Dinobot. “Is this what we’re looking for?”

Astro’s expression showed deep concern, something that Rook had never seen from him before. “He’s in trouble.”

From the moment he’d arrived at the maintenance and repair bay Sideswipe felt like he were on the outer looking in, trapped in some sort of semi-dream state and unable to take command of his own motor relays.

“Dammit, we're losing him.” Red Alert, the temporary Chief Medical Officer and Ratchet's new prodigy, stood over a berth fully focused upon his unconscious patient. His voice was laden with anxiety. His ability to handle the situation was not a concern, however; whether his patient would survive another day, was. “Arcee, try to boost the power signal… take it to maximum tolerance levels.”

His assistant stood right beside him, only too willing to help in any way she could. She was so focused on the medical emergency that she hadn't noticed Prowl or Sideswipe enter the med bay. “Won't that risk permanent damage to his neural circuitry?” she asked nervously.

“Yeah, but right now he doesn't have any other option. He's as good as gone if we don't do something,” he explained, carefully observing the monitor readouts.

Arcee nodded in understanding and glanced over at the patient’s gestalt team mates, Hot Spot and Streetwise, who stood watching the critical situation unfold at the foot of the berth.

A third Protectobot, Blades, stood in front of Sideswipe, removed from the activity. He had his arms crossed in front of him, and an expression of pure bitterness and resentment was etched upon his face. Sideswipe imagined what he might be thinking at this very moment, and guessed that it probably involved a particular Decepticon, and how he was going to be terminated at his hands.

The room was eerily quiet as Red Alert and Arcee concentrated on their task; no one else dared speak or move. The pink and white femme turned a knob near the external power source by a fraction, and then waited intently as Red relayed immediate feedback.

“A little more,” he said, and she complied, though she couldn’t hide her own stress and worry. Beside Groove, the indicator panel that displayed his vital signs showed his critical state. “Okay… okay, that’s good.” Red Alert let out a tentative sigh of relief, stepped back from the berth but kept his optics fixed upon the indicator panel until it began to show a stable signal. Then he glanced up towards the onlookers, and noticed Prowl standing nearby. “Sir, I’ll need your authorisation for what I’m about to do,” he said, briefly looking towards Sideswipe.

Prowl moved closer until he stood over the berth, looking down at the patient. “How is he?” he asked.

Red was hesitant to respond, reluctant to speak too candidly in front of Groove’s closest friends, but Hot Spot caught his expression. “Whatever it is… you can tell us, Red,” he said, prepared for the worst. He spoke for all of his team mates. “It’s not your fault what happened. We know you’re only doing your best.”

Red nodded. “Alright. The truth is… we almost lost him. He's practically surviving on backup reserve. If we keep him on life support much longer, it'll be completely depleted. His only hope now is to place him in semi-permanent stasis. That'll buy us a little more time. But we need to do it now.”

Hot Spot looked doubtful. “What's the risk?”

Red glanced at Arcee and Prowl, before returning his attention to Hot Spot - all familiar faces of friends that he trusted with his life. “There's always a risk that we might not be able to bring him back. And that's even if we're ever able to restore his missing link.”

The Protectobot leader nodded in understanding and then looked over at his fellow team member, an unspoken communication between them, before turning back to Red Alert. “Do it.”

Prowl nodded towards the repair specialist, silently authorizing the procedure. Then he stepped away, returned to stand beside Sideswipe. The former warrior had his full attention fixed upon the scene before him, as if mesmerized by it.

Several minutes passed by in silence as they all watched the procedure being carried out, reluctant to speak or utter a single word. They watched as Red Alert carefully accessed Groove's spark chamber, rewired its connections. It only took him less than a breem, and after he was done he checked the monitor readout and indicator panel until they both showed minimal electrical activity, and then nodded solemnly towards Hot Spot.

Streetwise, who had not uttered a word to anyone since the emergency had begun, now spoke up. “Come on, let's get out of here. There's nothing more we can do for him, anyway.” His voice was like acid.

“Where are you going?” Hot Spot asked him before he could leave the med bay.

“Does it matter?” the white interceptor retorted. The tension that had arisen suddenly between the two was felt by all in the room.

Arcee, in an effort to alleviate Hot Spot's anxiety, reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Let him go, Hot Spot. He'll be alright.” The Protectobot leader hesitated, but then nodded in acquiescence. She was right; he probably just needed some time alone.

Streetwise took the cue and headed towards the med bay doors, but then Sideswipe grabbed his forearm on his way past, stopping him in his tracks. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing? It’s not safe for any Autobot to be out there!” Sideswipe warned.

The Protectobot looked at him as if he had fried a logic circuit. “Let go of me,” he replied contemptuously, attempting to pull his arm away, but Sideswipe’s grip was strong. “Sideswipe.” Streetwise acknowledged the other’s name as if it tasted of bitter energon. He tried to pull his arm away once more, and this time was successful; his arm came free with a hard swing, almost striking Blades.

Sideswipe watched Streetwise exit the med bay and called out after him. “I’m warning you – just stay away from any Neutrals!” When he got no response, he finally turned towards Prowl. “Prowl – sir, let me speak to Prime,” he requested one more time with increased determination.

“I'm sorry, Sideswipe, but as I have already explained–” the Chief of Security began, but was cut off by the Autobot.

“Please! I wouldn't have come here at all if it wasn't important. Unless you want to see another Autobot end up like that?” His voice rose in volume as he pointed towards Groove. “It could be any one of us next time – perhaps Blades here, or even myself!” He looked around the med bay, determined to make his point. “What about Arcee over there? Don't you even care about what might happen to us?”

The Autobots in the med bay all stopped to listen as he began to draw their attention, his indignation obvious for all to witness. Prowl hesitated uncertainly, but then decided on a change of tactic. “Of course I do – that’s not the issue here. However–”

“Then what is the issue, Prowl? Because I'm starting to think that I may have made a mistake returning to Iacon Central,” Sideswipe confessed, angry.

Prowl remained unperturbed by the other’s loss of emotional control, and ignored his last remark. “However, I’ll be willing to deliver your message to Prime myself… provided that you do not profess your view point to anyone else – at least for the time being. Needless to say, we wouldn’t want to create unnecessary panic.” He paused, cautious. “Would that be acceptable?”

Sideswipe contemplated Prowl’s proposal. It was probably the best he could expect to get from Autobot Command, especially considering his past record and his current official status as a former officer of the Autobot army: dismissed without penalty. “Fine,” he replied, and walked out of the maintenance and repair bay without looking back.

“Do you suppose it was left here on purpose?” Rook watched as Astro deactivated the transceiver, patiently waiting for his companion to reply.

“It’s hard to say.” Astro visually scanned the alleyway on all general frequencies, looking for any clue that might indicate whether the Decepticon was anywhere nearby, but there was no sign of him. “Come on, we’d better head back just in case we’re not the only ones who’ve picked up the signal,” Astro said, and started to make his way back up the alley. But then he stopped suddenly, sensing danger, and slowly retraced his steps back toward Rook, grabbing his arm. “Get ready to move.”

Rook became wary, but before he could ask any questions a large, ominous figure appeared from around the corner. It was an enhanced, orange and grey jet-former; a sight that was all too familiar to him. It scowled at them, and Rook announced in shock. “Jhiaxus!”

Astro did not wait one astro-second longer, and the two of them bolted down the alley as fast as they could go.

Jhiaxus roared after them, engaging his jet thrusters in robot mode and shooting forwards through the air down the narrow alleyway. “Traitors!” he bellowed, enraged. There was the crackling sound of sparks as Jhiaxus’ oversized frame scraped against the walls of structures on either side of the alley, slowing him down.

The sudden whine of a missile launcher was followed by an explosive impact. A projectile had narrowly missed Astro as its target, but the force of the blast had flung him sideways into a wall with an audible crash, and had demolished part of a multiple storey building. Rook, realizing that Jhiaxus was almost upon them, a second energy-blast missile already heading their way, threw himself down to avoid its impact and then scrambled towards Astro, who was still recovering from the first detonation. There was no time for words now, only action; he grabbed the blue mech by his arm and forcibly guided him towards an opening in the alley to their left. They stumbled out of Jhiaxus’ way just in time, as the second in command of the largest subterranean base on Alternity City shot past them at high speed.

“Are you damaged?” Rook asked, helping Astro to his feet. The taller mech shook his head, looking back towards the alley, and then the both of them broke into a run down the path before them. They could hear their assailant close by as he landed on the ground in the alleyway, turning back the way he had come. Then he emerged at the entrance to the narrow pathway and began to pursue them on foot.

“We need to lose him, fast!” Astro called out to Rook, and risked a few precious seconds as he turned around to deliver a volley of laser blasts towards Jhiaxus. This seemed to slow the mech down, but it was not enough to stop him as he almost caught up to them.

Rook fired his own laser weapon, but their combined weapons were no match for Jhiaxus. The enemy jet sneered at them, reloading his missile launcher, and fired it once more.

“Hey, Sideswipe, mind if I ask you something?”

Sideswipe looked up from his seat at a table in the main recreational area, on the ground floor of the Command Center. It was Blades.

“Shoot,” he replied unconcernedly, taking a gulp of the energon from the cylindrical container in front of him.

“Listen, uh, I overheard you talking to Prowl in the med bay earlier. And I was wondering.” The red and white helicopter took a seat opposite him, not waiting for an invitation. “Because if it's got anything to do with what happened to Groove…”

Sideswipe stared at the Protectobot, his optics intense. “I've no idea what happened to Groove.” His tone was curt, defensive.

Blades did not appreciate the Autobot’s apparent lack of empathy. Perhaps Sideswipe had his own personal demons to deal with, as they all had – in fact, he was certain of it – but that was no reason to treat him with any hostility. “Then, what was all that stuff you were saying about the Neutrals?” he prodded.

The red and black Autobot shrugged impatiently. “Maybe you should go ask Prowl?”

Blades shook his head incredulously, his frustration increasing. “Hey, what the frag is your problem?”

“I don't have a problem.” Sideswipe sipped at his energon.

“Oh, yeah?” Blades stood up to leave; he obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere with the mech. Looking down at him, he suddenly saw a very different Sideswipe to the one he remembered. “You know, I almost wish Streaker had never interfered with affairs that never concerned him. We’d all have been better off if he’d just kept his mouth shut.”

This seemed to snap Sideswipe out of whatever state he had been in. He rose abruptly from his seat, pushing his canister of energon aside. It slid halfway across the table top. “What did you just say?”

Blades took a step back, already regretting his bluntness. “Look, I'm only after some answers. I didn't really mean anything by it–”

“The slag you didn't,” Sideswipe replied, threateningly. “Why don't you just get out of my sight before I do something we'll both regret?”

During their heated exchange, Smokescreen and Bumblebee had entered the recreational area and were unable to completely avoid staring at the two Autobots as they walked past.

“What are you looking at?” Blades called out, before facing Sideswipe again. “Here’s some advice for you; keep up that attitude of yours and believe me you’re not going to win any favours – not around here.” Then, having said his piece he walked out of the rec room, leaving Sideswipe to contemplate his final words. Sideswipe sat back down slowly, reached across for his container.

He hardly noticed as Smokescreen approached his table, taking the same seat that Blades had occupied only moments ago. “Hey, welcome back,” the tactician said in greeting, attempting to diffuse the tension. He did not wish to upset the estranged Autobot any more than he already was. “Don’t take what he says to heart. He’s just worried about Groove,” he advised. “We all are.”

Sideswipe avoided his gaze, though he was listening and already starting to calm down a little. “Thanks,” he said and finished the last of his energon, placed the empty container down on the table. “Well, I’d better be going. Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?”

As he stood up to leave Smokescreen stopped him. “Oh! Hold on a second… before I forget.” He retrieved a small object from one of his forearm compartments, held it out in the palm of his hand. “Ratchet asked me to give this to you.”

Sideswipe looked down at the data chip in puzzlement. “What's on it?”

“I don’t know, exactly. All he would tell me was that it’s some kind of recorded message.” Smokescreen was somewhat disappointed that he couldn’t elaborate on it further. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. I was about to go out and find you.” He watched as Sideswipe took the data chip from his hand. “I hope it’s of some help to you. Oh… he also wanted you to go and see him.”

“Thanks.” Sideswipe paused in thought, and wondered what Ratchet would possibly want to talk to him about. “Last time we spoke, he'd made it clear he wasn't too interested in what I had to say.”

The blue and red Autobot gave him an apologetic shrug. “That’s funny; he said something similar about you. Though, you never know… things might be different now.”

Sideswipe looked at him contemplatively, almost pensive. “I sure hope so,” he said, and walked out of the rec room.

This time, Astro was prepared for the oncoming missile and he threw himself down, flat on the ground, to avoid it. However, as he started to pick himself up again he felt a sharp pressure against his back, and realized that Jhiaxus was standing over him, pushing him down with the tip of one of his rifles. The other one was pointed towards Rook.

“Him, I had suspected,” Jhiaxus said, indicating towards Astro. “But you, Rook. I am extremely disappointed in you,” he taunted his former subordinate. A cold gleam emanated from his optics. Rook stood motionless, paralysed by fear and unable to hide the sheer terror that he felt as he stared back at his former superior. Jhiaxus recognized this, and did not hesitate to play upon it. “How could you turn against me after all I’ve done for you, Rook? Imagine my surprise when I discovered what you’d done… turning your back on your friends… only to side with this… traitor.” Jhiaxus emphasized the last word, looking down at Astro with such contempt that it seemed as though his gaze would burn a hole right through him. Then he looked back towards Rook abruptly, his voice now menacing. “Why did you do it, Rook? Why did you betray me? Answer!”

The smaller mech reacted with a jolt, his mouth slightly open in shock as he struggled to think of what to say. “I…” he started, but was unable to vocalize further.

“Very well,” Jhiaxus interjected, impatient. “If you can't talk, then maybe he will.” The large jet hooked a foot underneath Astro and roughly turned him over so that he was facing upwards, his back now to the ground. The rifle that had been pinning him down was now threateningly pressed against his face. Jhiaxus gave Astro a malevolent glare before driving a fist down hard across his cheek. The impact was so violent that Astro sustained a deep cut to his upper lip. Energon from the gash began to trickle down his face and chin.

“No! Please, leave him alone! I – I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Rook pleaded suddenly without thinking.

Jhiaxus turned his attention back to his former assistant, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “So, it appears that you have a soft spot for this worthless scrap-pile. I do find that rather intriguing, despite my revulsion,” he said with obvious spite. Then he laughed with such cold and malicious intent that Rook felt as though his core had been plunged into a deep freeze. The last time he had heard Jhiaxus laugh in such a manner, he had stood by and watched him pull apart a condemned prisoner piece by piece before finally having his disassembled parts smelted down at a nearby ore refinery. “Oh, don’t worry – I’ll make absolutely sure that Astro receives his just reward,” Jhiaxus continued, mocking the mech beneath him. Astro lay on the ground motionless; he did not speak a word, nor did he give away any of his thoughts or emotions. “But as for you, Rook, you have made a terrible mistake. However, since I am in a rather generous mood I am willing to forgive your transgressions. Return with me to the base, and I will spare your life.”

This confrontation with Jhiaxus was more than Rook could handle, as he felt his resolve begin to weaken. He looked down at Astro, and was reminded of all that had happened between them since the blue mech had taken him away from the Hitec base against his will. He had vehemently protested his actions, had even despised Astro for what he’d done with an almost uncontrollable need for revenge. But then, that had somehow all changed, and he realized that he had formed a closer bond with Astro in the short time they’d spent together than he’d ever experienced with any mech at the base over the few vorns he’d served there.

“Well, Rook, what have you decided?” Jhiaxus reminded him, growing ever more impatient. “I haven't got all day.”

“I…” Rook looked down at Astro once more, and was reminded of the inner strength and determination that emanated from those yellow optic sensors, and how much he wished he could emulate the same qualities. “I wish to–”

But before Rook could give him an answer a sudden barrage of energy blasts impacted Jhiaxus from above. Rook looked up in confusion, and saw a purple and grey space shuttle hovering low in the sky.

Jhiaxus, oblivious to the source of the sudden assault upon him, cried out in surprise and frantically looked about. Distracted, he could not stop Astro as the blue Cybertronian took the opportunity to roll away from underneath him and away from his reach.

Astro aimed his laser blaster towards the enemy jet and opened fire. He was soon joined by Rook and, along with the help of the airborne Decepticon, the three of them quickly managed to turn the tide in their favour. Jhiaxus faltered, tried to aim his missile launcher skyward but found it difficult to get a lock on the enemy target as weapons fire assaulted him from all angles, sufficiently incapacitating him.

Looking up, Astro noticed a hatch opening underneath the shuttle and he waved, indicating for it to take them up. The shuttle complied; within a matter of astro-seconds a powerful force field was projected towards the two of them, and they found themselves quickly being pulled up towards the craft.

Jhiaxus attempted to stop them, but he was too slow; the two were already inside the shuttle as it took off high into the air, leaving their adversary far behind.

Astro, relieved beyond words that he and Rook had escaped with their lives, leaned his head against the shuttle’s interior. “Nice timing, Astrotrain. How in the Pits did you know we were here?”

Astrotrain laughed. “Actually, I wasn't looking for you, Astro. I was tracking a Decepticon transmission. Though, it seems to have stopped now.”

“That's because we got to it first,” Astro explained, holding up the damaged transceiver in his hand. “Jhiaxus must have picked up the same signal.” He looked towards Rook. “Astrotrain, you remember Rook, don't you?”

“Sure,” Astrotrain replied, but then was silent for a long moment.

Rook couldn’t help the feeling of uneasiness that swept over him; he’d forgotten all about the Decepticons he used to know, so very long ago, before he had turned against them. He realized with regret that Astrotrain – in fact, all of them – had every reason to mistrust him, and for a brief moment he feared that they were about to take their revenge upon him.

However, when Astrotrain spoke again he seemed to hold no such grudge. “Welcome back, Rook. We Decepticons have to stick together, now more than ever.” Rook had not expected him to be so forgiving, and it took him by surprise. He felt unworthy, undeserving of it.

“Thank you, Rook,” Astro then said, with unrestrained sincerity.

The green-colored mech became increasingly uncomfortable, though he was not displeased. “For what? I wasn't much help to you back there.”

“That's not true,” Astro replied simply. He touched the gash on his lip, wiping away the energon.

Rook contemplated his words, but did not give a reply. Instead, he asked Astro another question. “Aren’t you curious about what I was going to tell Jhiaxus?”

The blue mech looked at him steadily, and then shook his head. “No.” He paused for a brief moment before adding, “I know what you were going to say. I trust you.”

Rook slowly sat down beside Astro on the floor of the shuttle, and for the first time in a very, very long time, he felt proud to be a Decepticon once more.

It wasn’t until several hours after Sideswipe had left the command complex, when he’d returned to his private quarters, situated in a small, nondescript apartment block in South Iacon, that he finally found the courage to play back the message on the data chip. He had no definite idea of what he might find on it, though he’d half expected it to contain a recorded message of Ratchet, or even Prime himself, giving him some pertinent advice about reconsidering his position and reminding him of his duty as an Autobot, perhaps even requesting that he apply to return to active duty. Then he’d dismissed these thoughts; receiving such a message was highly unlikely, to say the least. Autobot Command had strict rules and procedures in place, designed to prevent Autobots just like himself from compromising the integrity of Cybertron Command. If he wanted to return to active duty, he would have to go out on a limb, request a pardon and, if he was fortunate enough to be granted a reassessment, work his way up to the top all over again. It almost didn’t seem worth it, not after the events that had led to his dismissal.

So when he connected the data chip's play back mechanism to an auxiliary data port in his fingertip, unlocking it with his unique signature, he did not expect at all the message that he was about to receive.

A holographic image of a tall, yellow Autobot appeared in front of him. His arms were crossed, and a look of cynicism pervaded his expression.

Sideswipe almost stumbled onto his recharge berth as he stepped backwards in shock, and then slowly sat down upon it. “Sunny,” he whispered, his optics locked upon the image of his twin brother as the recorded message began to play.

“Sides… I’ve tracked Bludgeon to Alternity City… and you’re probably as mad as the Pits at me right now. Please don’t try to follow me here, though. We don’t need the both of us getting our afts thrown into detention, or worse.

“I know… you were only trying to look out for me, and I get that, I really do… and I probably shouldn’t have said those things to you. Although you should know that I didn’t mean any of it, and… and I’m sorry. You’ll always be my brother, no matter what. I trust you with my life. If you don’t know that already, well… then I guess, I should have done a better job at being a brother to you.” There was a long pause as Sunstreaker’s holo image concentrated upon what he wanted to say.

“Anyway… uh, oh yeah, I guess I should mention that it’s… Cybertronian stellar date 143491-4-092-19–”

Sideswipe stopped the play back, sat motionless in his quarters as he fought to overcome the flood of emotions that threatened to engulf him. That stellar date was more than a vorn ago; in fact, it was the same day that Sunstreaker had left Cybertron – reason and destination unknown. It was also the last time that Sideswipe had heard from his brother, after a huge disagreement had created a rift between them only one day earlier.

He had no idea why he had not been aware of Sunstreaker's message until now, more than one hundred stellar cycles after it had been recorded, or why Ratchet had had it in his possession all this time.

Inhaling deeply three times, he resumed the play back.

“Look, I know you don’t agree with me about the whole thing with the proposed Alliance… but, I know what I saw and I just won’t ignore it. I know that Sentinel’s involved with this virus in some way… but I don’t have all the details just yet.” The hologram of Sunstreaker rubbed at his helm, hesitated. “And it’s like I told Optimus… If Sentinel has anything to do with this new Alliance, I’m not hanging around.” Another long pause and then, “I wish things had turned out differently, Sides. The last thing I want to do is alienate you as well.”

Sunstreaker’s moving image glanced briefly to his right, looking out for something unseen. After a moment, he turned back towards Sideswipe. “I’m going to try and get another message through to you soon, let you know what I find out. I figure it’s not going to be easy, but I’ll try. If all goes well, I’ll see you again soon. Sunstreaker out.”

The holographic image flickered off and Sideswipe dared not move, as if he feared that he might somehow lose the last existing memory of his brother.

All these years, and he had thought that Sunstreaker had abandoned him completely, that he had left Cybertron without even bothering to let him know where he'd gone, or why he'd left. All this time, and he had falsely believed that Sunstreaker had never forgiven him for the stupid things he'd said and done.

Now, however, this message changed everything.