So far, the Autobase had not lived up to Airazor’s expectations. For a place that was so important, the inside was very normal. Plain tile floors and dull grey walls formed hallway after hallway, as stern-looking mechs and femmes walked briskly to and fro. Occasionally, a wall was hung with a portrait of a Prime, or a plaque commemorating a battle. It would have been boring if Airazor hadn’t felt so anxious. She remained in tight formation behind Ironhide, making sure not to step out of line. The older mech had a habit of making sudden stops to wave at someone or to let someone else pass by, which once or twice resulted in a collision between the two. Airazor was only just beginning to catch on when Ironhide swung around and grabbed Airazor by the head, locking her in place.

“Where are ya going so fast, kid? Ease up.”

“S-sorry, I’m just nervous.”

“I guess you’ve got a right to be. It’s been a long time since I was in your spot. A real long time,” he sighed.

He gestured towards a door to his right, above which flickered a sign reading “Registration”. Inside waited disinterested-looking clerk behind a Spartan desk. Ironhide followed her in and took a seat at a chair in the corner.

“How can I help you?’ asked the mech, who did not seem like he really wanted to help her.

Airazor bit her lip. “I’m, uh, here to become an Autobot?”

The clerk removed a datadeck and a small, squat cylinder from the desk.

“Name.”

She steeled herself, taking a deep breath. There wasn’t any reason to be as worried as she was now, was there? “Airazor of Iacon.”

“Protoform Batch Initiators?”

“Turbine and Sky Lynx. Of Iacon.”

The clerk raised an eyebrow. “Are you-“

“She’s not lying,” interrupted Ironhide.

The clerk lost whatever expression he gained, and typed a few lines into the datadeck.

“Date of activation?”

“Vector twenty-three, 8943 CE.”

“Altmode?”

“Flier.”

“Circulatory fluid type?”

“RR anionic.”

“Step forwards, please.”

Airazor did as instructed, taking a careful step closer to the desk. The floor beneath her feet sunk slightly.

“What’s that for?”

“Your weight,” sighed the clerk, continuing to type into his datadeck. He then took the cylinder and twisted it clockwise, which produced a worrying click. Even more worrying was the pair of sterilized manipulator guards that emerged from the clerk’s wrists. With the device in hand, he rose from behind the desk and slowly circled Airazor, holding the cylinder in front of him like an oversized dart. He eventually came to a stop hovering over her right shoulder, where one of her stabilizer fins protruded.

“This will sting,” he warned, before plunging the cylinder into her body. The device undid its twist with a loud snap. Airazor winced as she felt something small and sharp enter her shoulder fin, but made a point to stifle any sound. She was here to become an Autobot, who were always tough and stoic in the commercials. As the clerk removed the cylinder, its purpose became clear- the center of her stabilizer was now adorned with a bold red Autobrand.

The clerk took a moment to admire his handiwork, then returned to his seat behind the desk, clicking a few more keys on his datadeck. “Your ID number is GR115923. Welcome to the Autobots.”

“All right, come on,” said Ironhide, rising from his seat. “We’ve got places to be.”

Airazor left the room quietly, staring down at the ominous tribal-mask face of the Autobrand as she walked. The recalled a history class lesson- the design was derived from the full-face helmets worn by the Primitive forces that defended Iacon, which is why its eyes looked so empty and dead. She followed Ironhide down a few more corridors and into an elevator, which they rode down a staggering number of floors.

“So, where are we going, exactly?”

“There’s a briefing. After that, the goal is to get offworld in a megacycle.”

“That soon?”

“Recruiting you was a last-minute thing. But there weren’t any requirements for the position, so to speak.”

“Well, that’s…. encouraging.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine, kid,” smiled the old bot as the elevator doors opened. “Just pay attention during the briefing and you’ll learn what you need to know. You’ve got what it takes.”

The young femme nodded, attempting to convince herself that she had what it took.

Lots of bots my age join the Autobots, she considered. I’ve just got to keep my chin up and do what I’m told. I’ll be helping people, after all. It can’t be so bad.

The hallway they exited into was lined with darkly-armored guards standing at attention outside of each door, which were very effective at destroying what little confidence Airazor had left. Ironhide escorted her to the fifth door on the left, which was marked with a long alphanumeric identification number, and ushered inside. The room was poorly lit, probably to draw attention to the holoscreen at the front. Next to the screen was a podium, just like in the informational datatracks. The rows of adjustable chairs were far from full, with only a few mechs and femmes present. A pair of speeder-bots occupied the seats closest to the podium, and quickly cut their conversation short when they noticed the newcomers.

“Hey, it’s Ironhide!” chirped a dapper-looking brown mech, waving casually.

“What’s all the excitement for?” chortled the big red bot. “Did you expect me to die before I got here?”

“I mean, if you did kick the bucket, Wheels would be first in line for the antiques,” smirked the smaller yellow bot whose feet were resting on the back of the chair to his right.

“I’d do no such thing,” countered Wheels, pouting. This caused his carefully-groomed moustache to curl up in a way Airazor had to put a great deal of effort into not laughing at. Ironhide moved forwards and slumped into a seat behind the younger mechs, his joints grinding as he did so. Airazor followed, meekly keeping her limbs close to her chassis.

“That just sounds painful,” the yellow mech grimaced.

“Bee, when you get to be my age, you live for the things that hurt the least,” said Ironhide. “What do you two think of the crew so far?”

“Well, I have high hopes for that guy back there,” he replied, aiming a digit towards the back of the room where a hulking flier was hunched over the comparatively small chair. “He’s a Wrecker.”

“A jarhead, huh,” Ironhide pondered. “I’ve worked with them before. Nasty sons of glitches, but good in a pinch.”

“Other than him, the only one I’m excited to work with is that sweet piece of aft over there.” He stuck a thumb down the aisle, towards a blue-gray femme with an odd-looking helmet that was in the middle of reconfiguring a wrist communicator. “She’s Nebulan, and by Primus that little accent of hers is just the hottest thing.”

“Well, I bet she thinks your accent sucks,” blurted out Airazor, who only felt more mortified once she felt her hand involuntarily clasp against her mouth.

Bee narrowed his optics. “I’m gonna guess that she’s not the latest femme you’ve hired to help you into and out of seats.”

Airazor tried to put together a response, an apology, an explanation, something, but her vocal processor was being hampered by pure embarrassment. “I don’t- I mean, I really- I’m…”

“Prime said he wanted new blood, and I found her kicking the scrap out of Cryotek’s goons. She’s got spunk.”

“I can tell. I started young, too, so I can’t complain too much. As long as you know this isn’t daycare. Lives are on the line, here.”

“I’m- I’m aware of the risks,” Airazor mumbled.

“Don’t mind Bumblebee. He’s just like that,” explained Wheels.

“Personally, Ironhide, I’ve got some concerns about the scientist they’re sending along.” With a nod of his head, Wheels indicated a silver femme seated far behind them, wringing her hands in her lap.

Ironhide frowned. “What are we supposed to do with a gal like that?”

“We’re going to a new planet, completely uncharted, right? I assume the Council wants somebody to survey it. To see if they can get bidders for a colony.”

“Really? But how long has it been since they established a new one? The last was Lithone, right? In 8722?”

“No, no, that was in 8631. The last one was Paradron. But you’d think that after the Colony Wars they’d know they’re stretched thin enough.”

“Maybe they figure putting a colony so far away would force it to be dependent on corporate assistance,” suggested Bumblebee. “And there would be no transwarp lanes connecting them to potential allies.”

“Whatever the case is, I think it’s rotten. I mean, according to Glyph’s theories, this planet probably has some native life-forms, even if they’re microscopic. A colony would wipe all of that out.”

“Always a bleedin’ spark, Wheeljack,” grunted Ironhide.

“I think he’s right,” said Airazor feebly. “What if it’s something that could really help us out in the long run? Like a cure for Cosmic Rust?”

“I’m not for causing any more trouble than we need to,” Ironhide clarified. “But we don’t have a say in this. It’s between the Council and the corporations.”

The other two soldiers nodded with great solemnity, while Airazor sat still, thinking it over.

“But… aren’t we the army?” she asked. “And aren’t we the ones going to the planet? Why can’t we do anything?”

Ironhide shifted in his seat. “Because we do what the Council says. And the Council put that scientist on the mission. Besides, you don’t want to go to an alien planet and catch an alien disease, do you? Or find out that the air reacts with Cybetronium, and you fry as soon as you step outside of the ship? She’s not just here for herself… whoever she is.”

The door to the room opened once again, and another mech entered. He was some sort of hauler, tall and broad-shouldered. Ironhide’s joints shrieked as he rose from his seat with alarming speed, snapping an arm into a salute. Everyone in the room followed, including Airazor, although she wasn’t sure why until she looked at him more closely. Only his upper body was familiar to her, since the rest was usually hidden behind a podium for a speech or an address: Iacon’s governor and the supreme commander of the Autobots, Optimus Prime.

That’s who they were talking about? THE Optimus Prime? Oh, Primus above…

The commander saluted back as he took his place behind the podium, as per usual, and his audience sat back down. The guards outside closed the door. Optimus Prime cleared his throat, and began to speak.

“My fellow Cybertronians, our planet has, for many centuries now, been embroiled in a bitter conflict. These have been wars of grievance and revolution. The foremost of these revolutionaries is Megatron of Helex, founder of the Decepticon movement that has swept over both Cybertron and colony worlds alike. Through his campaign of revolution, he has dismantled governments and established a Decepticon bloc in Cybertron’s southern regions as well as most of the planet of Promet-2. However, when Megatron orchestrated the destruction of Apophenia, he made his greatest mistake. He was branded an outcast and a rebel by his own movement, which has served to divide the Decepticons. While many have allied themselves with Shockwave and are content with the current ceasefire, there is a highly radicalized faction that owes their allegiance to Megatron. Due to sanctions placed on the Decepticon bloc by the Council, this radicalized faction has been steadily growing in number.

Approximately five solar cycles ago, Megatron and a sizeable contingent of his Decepticon supporters left Cybertron on a repurposed Destron cruiser. All reports indicate that their destination is the as-of-yet undiscovered planet indicated in the Boltax observatory ruins. Glyph, the senior archaeometrist at Xaaron University in Simfur, has interpreted the observatory ruins as describing a ‘Second Cybertron’, a planet with a theoretical life-creating construct known as an ‘Allspark’. Now, whether this ‘Allspark’ exists or not is completely unverifiable. What we do know is that while Megatron is offworld, on a potentially deserted planet, he is vulnerable. Our mission is simple: We will make planetfall, locate Megatron, and bring him to justice. If necessary, we are prepared to neutralize him. Afterwards, we will-“

Airazor’s hand shot up, as if she urgently needed a hall pass. She could hear the sound of Ironhide slapping his hand over his face.

“Do you have a question, young one?”

“Um, uh, yes. Sir! Your lordship! Sir!”

“‘Sir’ will be enough. Go on.”

“Yes, sir. So our mission is to get Megatron?”

“Yes.”

“When will we build the bridges?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like in the commercial? Where the Autobots are building a bridge? And then they dig a well?”

“Regrettably, this is not a humanitarian mission.”

“So this is-“ she searched for a word she might have remembered her father saying all of those stellar cycles ago. It was a word that made the Autobots sound scary, something that years of commercials and statues and plaques and her mother telling her otherwise had buried. “… this is a kill squad?”

“The Council would call it a peacekeeping mission. It’s going to be called an expedition in the datamags. But I’m not going to lie to you. Yes. It is a kill squad.”

“That’s all I n-needed to know. Sir.”

Airazor took a deep breath and felt a lump in her throat. She wanted to scream and yell that she had been lied to and that all of the things she had seen were propaganda and that now she was stuck on some top-secret mission which she could very well never come back from, but that would only put her in a worse place than what she was. Besides, half of that was wrong. She had always known that war wasn’t a nice place like it was in the broadcasts or in the datamags; if it was, her father would still be around. All evidence to the contrary was a lie she had allowed herself to believe. And it wasn’t Ironhide’s fault either. He certainly hadn’t forced her to join the Autobots. She could have said no. But she said yes, whether it was out of spite for her mother or out of envy of her father or because she was tired of her house and her life and her planet and she wanted something new or because she had given up trying to make her own decisions and wanted someone to do it for her and all of these possibilities kept swirling in her head and none of them were more right than the others so she decided to clamp down on the horror and uncertainty and shut it all up because it was where she was now, and there was no going back.

“Kid,” whispered Ironhide, whose voice was a welcome burst of clarity to Airazor’s current hazy mental state. “Are you gonna be all right?”

“Yeah,” she whispered back, twice as quiet, as she made a silent vow to herself. “I’m gonna be just fine.”

Optimus Prime was continuing his briefing.

“… Decepticon forces are primarily volunteers. These are not professional warfighters. Most will lack any real combat experience. However, Megatron is a master strategist. Even if they are not skilled, his forces will likely be well-equipped, and directed in an efficient manner. Furthermore, their numbers will far surpass our own. In order for Operation Chosen Stars to be a success, we will require the utmost in teamwork and coordination. Unity is-“

Optimus Prime was again interrupted, not by a question, but by the doors to the briefing room opening. Every head in the room turned its gaze on the entrance. Into the room marched a long-coated officer, flanked by two huge bodyguards.

“Who are you?” asked Optimus Prime, who never sounded so uncertain in any of his speeches.

The officer, a mid-sized speeder, held up a badge, as if on cue.

“Omnibot RC. I’m here on orders from the Security Council.” Her words were sharp-edged, with funny cut-offs, as if they were pre-programmed. “There’s been a change in flight plans. My two associates from the Lightning Strikeforce company and myself are now officially a part of this operation.”

Optimus gave her a look of disdain. “And why does the Security Council find this necessary?”

“Based on several statements you have made in the past, and your former association with the terrorist Megatron, the Council questions your loyalty to the Autobot cause and your compliance to their demands. I have been assigned to this operation to ensure that orders are followed.”

“And what if they aren’t?”

RC’s red eyes flickered, betraying an emotion Airazor thought looked a lot like glee.

“I have been authorized to terminate you.”

Ironhide leaned down to whisper into Airazor’s ear. “This isn’t good.”

“If the council is so concerned, why don’t they relieve me of my command?”

“Oh, they’re perfectly satisfied with you as a commander,” she cooed, no longer hiding her spite towards the Prime. “They just don’t like your personality.”

“I understand,” grunted Optimus Prime.

“Excellent,” replied RC tersely, regaining her icy demeanor. “My associates and I will take a seat, and you can finish your briefing.”

“We were just finishing up.”

“Then we will meet you at the ship,” she huffed, spinning on a heel as she transformed into her speeder and screeched out of the door. Her larger, slower bodyguards followed, making far less noise.

“You may now proceed to the ship as well. Once there, you will have a megacycle to prepare for departure,” explained Optimus Prime, sounding much wearier than he had moments before. The other crew members began to filter out of the room, but Bumblebee, Wheeljack, and Ironhide stayed put- with Airazor staying close to the old red bot.

“Can you believe it? Man, why don’t they just shoot you already?” roared Bumblebee.

“To give them credit, they sure did wait a long time before trying to axe you, Prime,” sighed Ironhide. “But you’ve got to give ‘em what for. Omnibots are just a bunch of overclocked nutcases riding the Council’s driveshaft. You’ve dealt with them before. You can do it again.”

“I thank you for your words of encouragement, Ironhide. One can only hope that Miss RC thinks before she tries pulling the trigger,” Optimus smiled weakly. His attention shifted from the soldiers to Airazor.

“So you must be the rookie I sent Ironhide to find.”

“Y-yes, sir. My name’s Airazor, sir.”

“I’m sorry if the mission wasn’t what-“

“No, no. It’s… it’s all right, sir. I know about Megatron. Taking him out is important, I understand. It will be an honor to work with you, sir.”

“I only wish we could have met under less dire circumstances. This mission is going to be…” His mouth sank into a frown as he ran out of words. “There’s a technical term for it. I’m sure you’ll learn it soon. Is it possible that we have met before? You seem familiar.”

“She’s Sky Lynx’s kid,” said Ironhide. “Spitting image. Except for being, uh, huge.”

“Really? I didn’t know it would even be possible for him to…” He broke off yet again to turn his attention back to Airazor. “Your father did a lot of good. But what he did has no bearing on you. You’re separate people, and don’t let anyone make you think otherwise- you’re free to be what you want.”

“Oh… t-thanks, I guess. Sir!”

“You’re welcome, Airazor. Now I suggest we head for the ship. There isn’t much time left.”

Wheeljack nearly jumped with excitement. “Oh, you’re going to love it, Prime! The Axalon is just phenomenal! I couldn’t have dreamed up a better ship myself!”

“Now that’s high praise, considering how much dreaming Wheels does,” laughed Ironhide.

“All right, Autobots, we hereby commence Operation Chosen Stars!” bellowed Prime as he moved toward the exit. “Let’s transform and roll out!”

The five reemerged into the hallway in vehicle modes, with the Autobot commander at point. Airazor feathered her throttles to keep pace behind the speeders and haulers, which gave her time to think. Maybe what Optimus Prime had said sounded a little corny, but the more she worked it over, the more sense it made. With this mission, she was finally going to be free. She wasn’t just some kid, or her father’s daughter. She didn’t know what she was going to be, but she knew she would figure it out herself. There was a whole new world waiting for her, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass her by.