"Psst."

Ahmer looked up and around at the hiss, but couldn't target where it was coming from. The hallway outside Ikeshoji's classroom was too crowded to be sure.

"Psst- hey, over here!" An arm went up not far away. "Durrani, isn't it?"

"Uh-" Ahmer edged his way through the slowly ebbing crowd of newly dismissed students. "Yeah, who wants to..."

The speaker, it turned out, was a woman Ahmer couldn't remember seeing before. Blonde, blue-eyed, pale-skinned and just a little too well dressed to be a freshman. She might have been a junior, picking up old classes, or a senior, scrambling to fill out curriculum requirements. He couldn't say. Either way, she had the kind of smile that was almost as distracting as the rest of her, and that was saying a lot.

"... know," he finished, aware that he'd almost dropped his sentence entirely.

"Sorry, didn't mean to catch you off guard like that," she said with another, more deliberate smile. "You're Sam Witwicky's roommate, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Ahmer, drawing himself up a little straighter. "Yes, I am. Can I help you?"

"Maybe," she said, and her eyes flickered to his notebook. "That stunt that Sam pulled at the start of class today, when he corrected the professor- did you understand a word of what he was saying?"

"I wish," Ahmer admitted. "I came pretty close a couple of times..." She was looking hopefully at him. He'd have to actually explain if he went any further. "... but no."

"Damn." She bit her lip. "You're absolutely certain? Most of that went right over my head."

"Mine too, I'm afraid," Ahmer had to confess. "Along with the rest of the class."

"Except for Sam," she said, finishing what he'd been afraid she was going to say. "Do you think I-"

"He's got a lot of classes this afternoon," Ahmer said hastily. There was no way he'd be able to get anywhere with this girl if she decided she was going to spend her time with Sam instead. "I can try and get some of his notes for you, though."

"His notes," she repeated, sounding skeptical.

"Yeah, here-" He leaned back against the wall and started riffling through his notebook. "Understand, I don't know what language they're in, but it's pretty obvious he knows what he's doing. Look at this."

He held out the notebook page. The girl's eyes lit up; she whipped out a cell phone and snapped a picture of the page immediately. "Ooh! Thanks!"

"Hey! What was that about?"

"I've got class in five," she said gaily. "Don't worry, I'll be back for more after- I know where to find you now. Ta!"

"What the- hey- HEY!" Ahmer called. "What's your name? I didn't even get your name!"

The sound of floating laughter over the heads of the remaining students was his only answer.

Whether they were on monitor duty or not there isn't an Autobot on Earth who doesn't have at least one aud open for signals on the faction distress frequency. They don't really expect anyone to make it to Earth in silent running mode, only to call for help on arrival, but the thought of one of their number crashing to Earth somehow and having his call go unanswered is enough to send static through the most callous mech's processor. So they listen. Just in case.

And now there's a call being broadcast on that very frequency:

"-is Hound and Moonracer- Earth has been rendered orbitally inaccessible by Decepticon blockade units- we've already lost Wheelie trying to run the blockade! I repeat, this is Hound and Moonracer- Earth has been rendered orbitally inaccessible-"

Math- any math- came easily to Ahmer. It was just a given. It'd always been like that. His mother had taken him to a library book sale when he was in fifth grade, and he'd come away with an eighth grade math textbook and a teacher's edition trigonometry textbook. He'd worked through them both by the end of the school year. In high school he'd taken all the math courses they had to offer, to the point where his last math class of senior year had been Accounting because there wasn't anything else to take. Numbers, any numbers, were his bitch. So to speak. Unfortunately, the numbers he and the rest of his class were facing now were under the leadership of one Hiroaki Ikeshoji, Ph. D., and while Dr. Ikeshoji was no doubt a brilliant man capable of making the numbers dance, the English language tended to look his way and laugh before riding off on the pilion seat of some other professor's motorcycle.

Ahmer slumped in his seat. This was not going how he'd planned.

As Professor Ikeshoji launched for the third time into an explanation of something that sounded like it had to do with cardioids, something jabbed Ahmer sharply in the upper arm. "Pay attention," Sam Witwicky hissed.

"To what?" Ahmer murmured back. "The man's incomprehensible! Why did they hire him?"

"Because he's a genius," Sam returned. "If you just follow what he's writing instead of what he's saying, anyway."

"Oh, come on!" said Ahmer. "How am I supposed to-"

"Ahmer?" said Sam, but Ahmer wasn't listening. His eyes had fallen on Sam's notebook. The page was covered, absolutely covered, in tightly written, inscrutable ideograms or glyphs that didn't look like anything Ahmer had ever seen before- row after row after row of them. Oh, sure, there were Professor Ikeshoji's equations and diagrams in there too, but they were almost completely crowded out by the weird little symbols.

"What language is that?"

"Huh?" said Sam. "I don't- what?"

"That." Ahmer jabbed a pencil at the ideograms. "What language is that?"

"It's not- I don't know what you're talking about."

Ahmer eyed him suspiciously.

"No. Really. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sam, you're taking notes in another language," Ahmer pointed out. "What language?"

"Seriously, Ahmer, I don't-"

"Mister- ah- Witwicky." The professor's voice cut through the conversation; both Sam and Ahmer jerked upright guiltily. "I need you to pay attention."

Sam gulped, but his voice was clear as he said, "I am paying attention. Professor. Sir."

The lean, grey-haired man eyed him suspiciously. "PLease," he said, "come and demonstrate, then. This problem-" He nodded to the chalkboard, where a blank coordinate graph and a half-completed equation waited. "Needs solving."

"Gladly. Sir."

Grateful that the professor's wrath had fallen on someone who wasn't him, Ahmer nonetheless watched Sam approach the front of the room with dubious hope for his roommate's survival. There was no way this could end well. Sure, Sam had said he'd gotten a 5 on the AP Mathematics exam, but-

Wait. Sam was writing out the rest of the professor's equation.

Sam was plotting out the equation's results on the graph.

Sam was correcting the professor's equation. And writing out new ones as easily as if it were breathing.

And Ikeshoji was looking at him as if he were the genetically engineered simultaneous clone of Al-Khawrizmi, Aryabhatta, and Newton.

Ahmer started copying out as many of those weird little ideograms as he could. There was no way he was going to let Sam get away with not telling him how he was doing this.

"SOUNDWAVE REPORTING. TRANSMITTING ORBITAL INSTALLATION DATA. DECEPTICONS: COMMENCE ORBITAL BLOCKADE PHASE ONE."

White Sands Test Facility
Tracking and Data Relay Satellite Ground Support
White Sands, New Mexico
United States

(There is always a last time for everything)

RAAF Woomera Test Range
Evetts Field Satellite Airfield
Koolymilka, Woomera Prohibited Area
Australia

Overhead,

Main Antenna Array
Indian Deep Space Network
Byalalu, Karnatka
India

one by one,

GLONASS Telemetry and Tracking Station
Komsomolsk-on-Amur
Khabarovsk Krai
Russia

without any fuss,

China National Space Administration
Deep Space Tracking Facility
Ürümqi, Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region
People's Republic of China

man's stars

Jodrell Bank Observatory
Jodrell Bank Center for Astrophysics
University of Manchester
Lower Withington
Cheshire
England

were

Leeheim Satellite Monitoring Station
Frankfurt am Main, Hesse
Germany

going

Montagne des Peres Tracking Station
Centre Spatial Guyanais
Kourou
French Guiana

out.

Space Telescope Science Institute
Johns Hokins University, Homewood Campus
Baltimore, Maryland
United States

The director of operations eyed the black phone on his desk. He hadn't used it since it had been installed. No one had. It wasn't the kind of phone you picked up lightly; it wasn't even the kind of phone you put anywhere you might brush up against it, in case you knocked it off the hook.

Nevertheless, he picked it up.

"Mr. Secretary?" he said to the voice on the other end. "I hate to disturb you, but we got one last image from Hubble before all systems went offline. I think you need to call Mr. Banacek back..."

Some businesses stay open twenty-four hours a day, always on the alert for any messages that may come their direction. The munitions plants of the United States of America have not been on that status since the middle of the twentieth century.

That may be changing very soon. There are orders for high-temperature magnesium sabot rounds of many sizes and calibers being drawn up in the Pentagon at this very moment. They will be delivered to the people who operate munitions plants of the United States by military couriers at the first light of dawn, whether the plants are open yet or not. And while there will no doubt be some arguments over retooling and refitting and time frames and all of the usual things... well.

They are very big contracts. But then, they are meant to bring down very big targets.

---
United States Army Armament Research, Development and Engineering Center (ARDEC)
"Home of American Firepower"
Picatinny Arsenal, NJ

"... I don't get it."

"What's to get? It's an order. Clear the lake."

"No, seriously. I don't get it. This is Picatinny Lake we're talking about. This is a pretty good-sized lake."

"I'm aware of that, Captain. So are our superiors. Get the lake cleared."

"The whole thing."

"Yes."

"Of all civilian vessels and traffic."

"Yes."

"For twenty-four to forty-eight hours until an unspecified person or persons of interest arrives."

"That's right."

"Do you have any idea how much of a fight the locals are going to put up?"

"All things considered I have a feeling that's going to be a really minor fight next to what's on its way. Clear the goddamn lake, Maxson."

"Yessir."

Minor Planet 20000 Varuna
Present Day

It sat ill with Starscream to huddle in the shadows of the ruddy-grey rockball and wait among their gathered forces for yet more Decepticons to arrive from the depths of space, but Shockwave had issued his orders. Just now Starscream had no desire to disobey them. That was a rare occurrence, and one not likely to happen again, but if Starscream was adept at anything at all in the universe, it was survival. And just now, he was absolutely, positively certain that countermanding Shockwave's orders would be the end of whoever was fool enough to try. Primus knew Skywarp and Thundercracker were flying perilously close to that line...

- Skywarp, - he heard the cycloptic mech's tightly pulsed signal go out. - Thundercracker. Report to my position at once. - A moment later, a more focused burst of signal added, - Aerospace Commander, I suggest you do so as well. -

It didn't have the feel of the kind of 'suggestion' Megatron used to give. Those had inevitably been laden with barely leashed wrath. This... Starscream could have been mistaken, but he thought he detected a faint trace of smugness in it. That alone was enough to make him wary; he signaled his acceptance and launched himself into the black Varuna sky. What was Shockwave planning?

Shockwave had set up his coordination post on the lip of an ice-lined crater overlooking a broad, flat, dusty plain. There weren't many strategic views to be had on the pathetic rockball, but he'd managed to find one. As Starscream approached he sent out a brief ping of greeting to the two other flyers. Of all the mechs on Cybertron, Skywarp and Thundercracker came closest to being mechs he actually liked. Not that the emotion ran deep enough to intervene with Shockwave just yet, of course- but still. He landed a little distance away from the two and noted, - Good luck, you two. -

- With what? - answered Skywarp- but before he could answer, Shockwave rose to his feet, and all three went silent.

- I have had word from Soundwave, - said the ancient mech. - The Autobots are preparing. -

- Yes? So? - said Skywarp, optic shutters briefly slanting in confusion.

Thundercracker winced, shoulder servos drawing closer together. Starscream didn't envy him. He could see where this was about to go.

And Shockwave didn't disappoint. -They are preparing, - he said tightly, - for us. They know we are coming. -

- So what? - said Skywarp, and even Starscream had to wince at that. Skywarp was a brilliant aerialist and absolutely deadly in combat, but at times he had all the sense of a drone. - There's what, seven of them on Earth? We outnumber them by- -

- THAT IS NOT THE POINT, - Shockwave's signal crackled. Skywarp went silent. - When I give an order I expect it to be obeyed, Skywarp, and I ordered complete silence on all potentially Earth-bound frequencies. -

Skywarp started to formulate a reply, but Thundercracker spoke first. - I should have stopped him, Adjutant, - he said. - The blame- -

- Is not his alone, - Shockwave acknowledged. - Especially given that the signal in question included names. Not only are the Autobots aware of our arrival, but they know who's coming. And who leads them.

Thundercracker didn't say anything. He only resettled his shoulders and nodded. He knew, if Skywarp didn't, where and how to pick his battles.

- Understand this, - said Shockwave, coming a step forward and no further. - I had planned on such a contingency. This breach of protocol is not a defeat for us; we will not fail. - His lone optic gleamed. - However. -

Starscream's sensors were so focused on the scene before him that Omega Supreme could have stood up behind him and he wouldn't have noticed.

- I dislike having to change tactics because of abject stupidity. It's a waste of resources and perfectly good planning. - Shockwave's head swiveled from Thundercracker to Skywarp, then back again. - And I will not see further chances to take this planet squandered by those who presume themselves secure. -

Skywarp and Thundercracker didn't dare look away from Shockwave's gaze, but they exchanged a brief, silent ping of worry.

- We will find where the humans have left Lord Megatron. We will retrieve him and bring back his Spark. And when we do, I intend to present him with his army of conquest- at full strength. - It was difficult to say, but Shockwave might possibly have glanced Starscream's way as he said it. - But that strength will be in the form I choose. -

He raised his hand and pointed, almost negligently, to the ice sheet that lined the crater interior. For a moment there was nothing, only light and shadow; then the shadows began to move, creeping, flowing together, heaving upwards. The glimmer of starlight from the Varuna sky glimmered off thousands of shards of silently broken ice as a carpet of something scurried over rock and ice alike to pool itself at Shockwave's feet.

Skywarp swore. Thundercracker stepped reflexively backwards.

- There is more than one way to make use of a mech who won't obey orders, - said Shockwave calmly. - Our parts can be broken down into all kinds of combinations with the right skill. In my research into ancient Cybertronian history I found more than a few secrets long lost. One of them was a means of producing and controlling an almost infinite number of mindless, sparkless surveillance and infiltration drones. Individually they aren't much, but en masse, they have the firepower and destructive capability of any one of you. I call them the Swarm. -

A trickle of glittering blackness raced up one of Shockwave's legs, across and around his torso, and up onto his shoulder from behind, where it sat still. Starscream was almost sure he could see scores of tiny, brilliant red optics peering out of that mass.

- The process of rendering a mech down into their equivalent mass of Swarm-bots is annoyingly complicated, and gives me another duty when I am already busy, - said Shockwave. - So I would prefer not to have to invoke it. But I will, if you fail our cause again. Am I understood? -

- Yes, Adjutant, - answered Skywarp and Thundercracker simultaneously.

- Good, - said Shockwave. - Now. I will require a planetary blockade of Earth before we proceed any further. The Autobots and their human allies are not to gain any more resources than they already have. Neither are they to be allowed to marshal their forces. Summon the others for me, all three of you. We have a disposition of forces to discuss before we reclaim our Lord and bring the third rock from Sol to its knees. -

Starscream shook himself, hard, and launched himself into the black sky again. Anything to get out of the ancient mech's line of sight.

The dogs, Sam would remember afterwards, were going crazy; of all that long Arctic nightmare, that was what stuck out. The dogs. One minute they'd been charging over the ice. The next, nothing but snarling, slavering rage, snapping and barking at anyone near them. He got up to see what was wrong-

The ice gave way under him with a crack like the end of the world.

He'd have screamed if he had anything to scream with, but the void around him was endless vacuum, the dark between the stars, and if there had ever been ice he didn't remember it now. Only the light, infinite beyond measure, gathered in and housed and trammeled in the walls of metal that fell now through the utter black...

But it wasn't falling, not really. Not when he knew every inch as he passed it, when every instant brought another breath of I know where I am without saying how. He was going somewhere, reaching for something. Some presence just beyond the edges of his thoughts that felt like home, and he was-

There, now, there, it flashed past, brighter than bright, a piece of life and home and self that flickered by as he tumbled, powerless, the last of his reserves spent. It wasn't fair! It wasn't right! He'd come so far, and now he was plunging from the emptiness without measure into sunlit air, the heat of his passage suddenly bleeding away and every system shutting down one after another-

Once, long ago, so very long ago, there had been a fall like this. But the air was thinly clinging and the soil was stone and metal and there had been nothing that lived. He remembered stretching out, then, and pulling back, and finding life had come to be. And it had been good. But this was something else; this was another place, and it was time to wait. It would wait. He would wait.

(but that was the thought of the immortal, to wait and wait until forever came around right, and he didn't have that time, did he? he had eighteen years behind him and some more in front of him, and as he looked into the teeth of time spilling over him he wanted to scream, but there was no screaming here-)

The images flickered by, dozens of them, hundreds, thousands, more than he could count or measure. Memories of lives, individual fragments of the infinite light, gone out and returned. Builders of a world, shapers of others, life after life after life given and lost and brought back again. He was breathing memories, bridges and arches and dizzying sunlight over metal towers stretching to the edges of the sky, the great arching hall where senseless metal came in and new-made life went out-

(not his memories, not his- Mikaela, Mom, Dad, Mojo, school and sun on the lake and learning to drive, and his first sight of his first car-)

That, at least, was familiar; that was something he could understand, both of him, all of him. He reached out as the yellow Camaro stood up, turned bright blue optics his way, touched the outstretched hand-

Sam jerked awake again, drenched in sweat, blinking furiously as the dream's infinite light faded to the edges of his consciousness. But only that far, and no farther. He still remembered it- all of it.

They were getting worse.

Sam had gone straight to the Web the instant his dorm assignment came in the mail. They'd put him in a freshman-heavy building called Rockefeller College, which, according to rumor, could easily leave a guy five flights of stairs away from the nearest communal bathroom. His assignment wasn't quite that bad, but it wasn't easy to reach either- three flights up and at the end of a long corridor. That was gonna make getting his stuff in a picnic, he was sure.

On the other hand, considering that the elevators were pretty well tied up, it meant that he got to grab a light bag or two and head up to his room well ahead of his parents. "Go on, Sam, see what you've got," his dad urged as he shoved the big box of books a little closer to the nearest elevator.

"Make sure and make a good impression on this 'Ahmer' fellow!" his mother chimed in.

"Assuming he got there first-"

"I'm going, I'm going!" said Sam, and bolted. The stairs weren't quite as crowded, but man was the third floor a zoo, boxes everywhere, students and parents shuffling in and out. He rounded the corner, checked the paper in his hand, opened the door- and found a room with several trash bags full of Federal Express packaging and, God help him, posters of the Autobots already tacked up on the walls.

Sam smacked the heel of his hand into his forehead several times.

"Oh, hey, you're here," said a cheerful voice. Sam dropped his hand and looked up. The speaker was about his own age, a thin, gangly, looking fellow with dusky skin, wire-rimmed glasses, and the sort of beard that guys who just can't grow beards inevitably wind up with when they insist on trying. "Sam Witwicky, right? My name's Ahmer Durrani. Nice to meet you. Please don't step in that spot over there inside the masking tape."

Sam hopped away reflexively, glancing down at the bath-towel-sized area. "Huh? Something wrong with the floor?"

"No, that's where my prayer rug's going. No feet of any kind, please. Hope you don't mind I picked out my own space already." Ahmer grinned. "I probably should've waited and flipped a coin for it, but Dad had all my stuff shipped here next day air."

"That, uh, that explains all the Fedex boxes." Sam shook his head. "Your parents didn't come with you?"

"Oh, they wanted to, but there's a family wedding going on back in Pakistan and they had to go." Ahmer shrugged. "Dad works for Fedex, so the employee discount got a workout instead. It's an honor to meet you-"

"Yeah, about that." Sam jerked his chin towards the nearest poster, which looked like it'd been taken at that robotics convention Bumblebee had attended in Tokyo last year. "What's up with that?"

Ahmer glanced over at the poster himself. "You like it? I've been following the Cybertronians in the news ever since the first leaks from Mission City. I'm going to major in mech e., and these guys are just incredible What I wouldn't give to talk to one of them for just five minutes- hey, did any of them come with you, maybe?"

"No. No, they- I- no." Sam shook his head. "They're all back west, far as I know. It's just me. Well. Today it's just me and my parents. But after that? It's just me."

Ahmer's brow wrinkled at that. "Seriously? But I thought you-"

"-had a car who turned out to be one of the Cybertronians, yeah, I know," Sam interrupted. "And I did. But he's not with me. You know the rules, they were all over the housing papers-"

"But you're Sam Witwicky! And your car's an alien, not just a car!" Ahmer said. "They'd've made an exception-"

"I didn't want one!" Sam protested. "I already have enough trouble with- look, I just didn't want one, okay? I just want to be a, a, a student. Like every other student."

"Huh." Ahmer crossed his arms over his chest. "Really."

"Yes." Sam crossed his arms right back. "Really."

"You're sure."

"I'm sure."

"You don't secretly have a very small Autobot on your person or in your things somewhere."

"No I do not secretly have an Autobot in my things! Jeez!"

"Just asking!" Ahmer put up his hands defensively. "Although if you are and you can't talk about it, you can wink once for yes-"

"Sam!" Ron Witwicky yelled from out in the corridor. "You didn't tell us it was gonna be this far!"

"The dorm map wasn't to scale, Dad!" Sam answered. In an undertone to Ahmer he added, "The 'rents."

Ahmer nodded; Judy Witwicky promptly elbowed the door open, suitcases in each hand. "Oh, hi there!" she beamed. She put down one of the bags and stuck out a hand for Ahmer to shake. "Judy Witwicky, Sam's mom. It's so nice to meet you, ah- how do I pronounce your name? Aymer?"

"Close. Ahmer. Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Witwicky-"

"Oh my God, and you went to all the trouble of making Sam feel at home?" Judy said; she'd spotted the wall decor. "Ron! Ron, come and look at this! Sam's roommate's got posters of all the Autobots up!"

"You couldn't have just put swimsuit models up or something?" Sam hissed under his breath.

"Wouldn't have been appropriate," Ahmer whispered in return. "I'm not-"

"Where did you get this picture of Ironhide and Miss Lissar?" Judy asked as Ron lumbered through the door, red-faced and sweating. "I don't remember this one being in the papers-"

There was a thump as Ron dropped the box of books an inch shy of the taped-off zone; Ahmer winced. "Nice place you got here, kid," Ron said. "Sam? What did I tell you about buying your reading material here? I nearly threw my back out getting this stuff up here."

"Ron, come and look at this, he's got the whole photo series from when those Japanese reporters came to the house!" Judy said. "Remember?"

"How can I forget?" Ron said, wiping his hands on his shirt. "It's not often a man gets his remodeling work in the newspaper."

"They were taking pictures of the aliens, Ron," Judy reminded him.

"And they got my hard work in the background of every single one. That counts in my book."

Sam just shook his head and went about dragging the suitcases over to what would be his dresser, and did his best to block out his mother's excited exclamations over every single photograph, picture, and poster in the room. It didn't work very well. His mother got excited easily. Fortunately, by the time he'd emptied his clothes out of both suitcases his father had come to the end of his patience. "Judy- JUDY. Come on. The van's downstairs and we've got another two trips to make. Sam, you get your stuff squared away, we'll be back..."

His parents left, and silence descended. Eventually, Ahmer said, "So."

Sam glanced to the door, and then back to Ahmer. "So."

"Your parents..."

"Yeah."

"Are they always like that?"

"Sometimes," Sam said, "they're worse."

"Ah." Ahmer chewed on his thumbnail for a bit. "I'll take the posters down."

"Thank you."

"Can I keep one of the small ones up?"

"Fine. I'm good with that."

"Thank you, Sam."

"No problem."

The Shadow is a Reconnaissance, Surveillance, Targeting Vehicle (RST-V), developed by General Dynamics Land Systems. The Shadow RST-V was developed for the Marine Corps Warfighting Laboratory, sponsored by the Defense Advanced Research Agency and the Office of Naval Research.

The Shadow RST-V is a 4x4 hybrid electric drive vehicle with reconnaissance, surveillance, targeting and C3I (command, control, communications and intelligence) capability coupled with integrated stealth and survivability features. The vehicle can be equipped in a range of mission variants including: forward observer, forward air control, reconnaissance, light strike, battlefield ambulance, air defense, logistics, personnel carrier, anti-armor and mortar weapons carrier. For a Command Post variant, the roof of the Shadow is extended.


The Shadow RST-V has significantly improved fuel economy and survivability and can be transported in roll on/roll off mode in a CH-53 or CH-46 helicopter, V-22 tiltrotor and C-130 transporter. Up to 21 vehicles can be carried in a C-5 Galaxy aircraft or 12 in the C-17 Globemaster. The vehicle has demonstrated maximum road speeds of 112km per hour. With 95 litres of fuel, the Shadow has an unrefueled range of 758km at a speed of 50km per hour. Using only battery power the vehicle's range is 32km.

There are six of them in the possession of military bases within unrefueled range of Autobase. They are not a common sight, per se, but given the nature of the region they are not considered especially unusual.

And unless all of them are in the same place at the same time, nobody notices when there is one more.

"SOUNDWAVE: REPORTING. LOCAL CAMOUFLAGE: ACQUIRED. ALLSPARK ENERGY SIGNATURE: DETECTED.

"BEGINNING AUTOBOT SIGNAL DECRYPTION AND DATA ACQUISITION: NOW."

Sam still had goodbyes to say- to humans, a little, to Autobots, more. The humans were simple enough. Epps saluted. Fig called him 'college boy' and shoved a pack of his mother's recipes at him. Lennox shook his hand and suggested ROTC with what might have been the barest of winks. Sam just laughed- a little weakly, but he thought it was good enough- and kept moving; there wasn't a force in the world that could get him to pick up a gun at this point...

"Sam."

That was Optimus; Sam had wandered into the Autobot hangar without noticing where his feet were going. He gulped and drew himself up straight as he could. "Optimus," he answered, faintly proud of the fact that his voice didn't even waver. "Hey."

"I understand you're going to be leaving us soon," Optimus said.

If the big bot knew anything about Bumblebee's state of mind, Sam couldn't see any sign of it, only concern. Maybe he'd get through this after all.

He nodded. "Yeah. We're- my parents and I, we're going to be heading to Princeton. Tomorrow. I mean we're leaving tomorrow, to get me moved in- they're coming back here afterwards."

"I see." Optimus inclined his head; Sam felt his shoulders tensing, tried to suppress it. "I had wanted to ask if you were sure that going by yourself was the right decision."

Sam winced. "Look, Optimus," he said, "I have to do this, okay? Just- I'm the first Witwicky to ever even get the chance to go to college. I can't bring Bumblebee with me."

"Because of the regulations governing the use of cars?"

"Because-" This was the part he hadn't told Bumblebee. Casting it in terms of unavoidable rules at least stood a chance of sparing Bee's feelings, but there'd been more to it than that. "Because, well... Princeton was a 'reach' school for me, you know? I don't know if you guys noticed, but I'm not exactly the most genius student in the world. I mean, I'm good. But I'm not that good. Princeton's an incredible school. They don't take B students who need financial aid. They take A students. They take B students from rich families." He paused. "They take famous students."

"And you think your association with us influenced their decision."

"Maybe I got in on my own merit, I don't know." Sam raised his hands helplessly. "All I know is, I got in. I have four years ahead of me, paid for and everything. I want to be able to say at the end of those four years that that was me, you know? That I earned what they gave me. Not that I made it because I was 'that kid who hangs around with the Autobots'."

Optimus was silent.

"I want to prove myself, Optimus. This is my big chance, you know? This is- this is for me. For my family. I need to prove that I'm good enough." He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I have to do this without you guys. I'm sorry."

"Sam," Optimus said at last, "any one of us would say that you have already proved yourself a hundred times over."

"Yeah, well, no offense, but that's you," Sam said. "I have to live the rest of my life with people who aren't you guys."

"Maybe," said Optimus quietly. "For your sake, I hope that's the case."

So do I, Sam wanted to say, but bit it back; there was no way he could say it without it sounding wrong. Instead he nodded. "Okay, then," he said. "Glad we understand each other."

"Goodbye, Sam," said Optimus, and held out his hand.

( I gotcha- )

Sam reached up to shake it as best he could, touched one finger-

( nothing something being knowledge wakening INFINITE LIGHT )

-and jerked in his seat as the same dream he'd had every night since he'd said his goodbyes snapped him upright. "Wake up, Sam!" called his mother cheerfully. "We're in New Jersey!"

The setup is one that was planned for some time ago, but never used more than once or twice: scaffolding and monitors, cameras and microphones and encrypted hard-lines. There is space here for one mech to speak to multiple humans face-to-face, both in the flesh and on the screen; there is room for others as well, to wait their turn as needed. In the past this setup was used to inform governments of the existence and presence of the Cybertronians, to ensure that they were ready to have the rest of their people informed.

Tonight, unfortunately, is going to be a variation on that theme- a variation that many no doubt prayed would never be needed.

There are things the experienced and old do not say, even if they think them. A long enough life teaches those who survive it that it's best to acknowledge things to themselves, and then to stay silent. The universe may not be aware or malicious in its own right, but after a long enough existence it becomes easy to think that saying certain things gives the idea of them more substance. Enough substance, and... well.

Ironhide wasn't superstitious, exactly. He just didn't see the point in giving the universe ideas.

At the moment, the idea he didn't want to give the universe was on the nebulous side. The general thrust, though, was something like this: after long years of Decepticon silence, even from Scorponok, more Cybertronians had arrived on Earth. And they'd been Autobots. Except for a few incidents with irritated highway patrol officers, the new arrivals were adapting. Everything was rolling along smoothly, even to the extent that Sam Witwicky would be going off to the opposite side of the continent sans protector. It was all just too much. There was no way that kind of state could hold. Something was going to break loose; life, in his experience, was not that kind...

Well, there wasn't much he could do about it. Just keep watch. Just keep wary. At least he'd be the first to know when the streak broke.

Or Grimlock would. That was one thing Ironhide appreciated. The cerebrator-damaged mech might have been a shadow of his former self, but all the slag he'd been through had made him properly wary. When 'Hide wasn't standing guard, Grimlock was. The only problem was that there was a good chance Grimlock would charge at the danger without notifying anyone. He'd had all the impulse control of a new incept ever since that smelting headshot. Ironhide had made it a habit to check up on Grimlock two or three times a watch shift, just to make sure he was still there.

And that night he was. Grimlock's shape formed a dark outline against the flickering blue of half a dozen monitoring screens in the hangar, each crammed with readouts representing the scanning data of multiple human sensor systems. The Autobots' own deep-sky scanners had a screen all their own, although they scarcely needed one. Any of them could have plugged directly into the system and siphoned the raw data for analysis. Having it out in the open eased the minds of the Autobase human contingent, though- and made it simpler to get a second opinion from other Cybertronians, without having to open a second connection. Grimlock didn't much believe in extraneous chatter when he was on duty. It would've made him miss something.

Nevertheless, he turned his head a fraction at the sound of Ironhide's footsteps. "It not end of duty shift yet," he said. "You early. Again."

"You know me, Grimlock," was Ironhide's answer. "Can't help wanting to keep an optic on things."

Grimlock's only answer was a grunt. He knew, all right. Ironhide had been the only mech he could really count on to be there since he'd finally made it to Earth, other than Prime- and the only one he really got along with. Mostly because he didn't seem to feel the need to constantly talk. This was no exception; the big black mech took his place at Grimlock's side, and for a while silence reigned, save for the twitters and beeps of the consoles around them.

Eventually, though, Grimlock felt the need to speak. "Ironhide. You worried about something."

There was no question in his tone, and they both knew it.

"Just wondering," Ironhide allowed; that much, he felt, was safe. "Who might be next."

"You not only one," said Grimlock. "If four come now, soon there gonna be more. It a matter of time."

Ironhide nodded. "Lot of space out there," he said. "Lot of places there could be mechs coming in from. All kinds-"

He stopped. Grimlock froze. The lone Cybertronian monitor had flickered into brilliant life. They watched for a while as the barely-above-background-noise signal streamed past the sensors; they turned to look at each other, after.

Minutes later, every mech on Autobase fell silent as Grimlock transmitted the same six words to all of them:

"This Grimlock. Him Shockwave- him coming."

The sound of a motorcycle engine purring up to the south gate caught the guards' attention. None of them really knew what to think of Arcee yet, and the ostensibly female Autobot had gone out for a speed run on the local roads that morning. A few questions wouldn't hurt anyone, they reckoned... unfortunately, the bike that approached had two riders. Arcee only ever bothered faking one.

"Afternoon, Sam. Afternoon, Mikaela," said the MP as the motorcycle rolled to a halt.

"Afternoon, Fred," said Mikaela. "Is Bumblebee in?"

"Just got back half an hour ago," the guard said. "Hangar B, maintenance bay four."

"Maintenance bay?" Sam exclaimed, poking his head out from behind Mikaela. "Is he all right? What happened?"

The guard shrugged. "Didn't tell me. You're cleared to go in."

"Thanks, Fred," said Mikaela. The bike's engine purred into life, and they rolled past.

"Maintenance bay," Sam repeated as they picked up speed. "That's not good."

"Sam, just relax," Mikaela said. "He probably just needed an oil change or something."

"I just got him one last week. he should be fine. He'd've told me if I wasn't looking after him properly, right?"

"He always has before," Mikaela agreed. "maybe he's just visiting somebody else who needs a tune-up."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Sam, relax. It's going to be just fine. He's a big bot, he can handle it."

"I dunno, Mikaela, this is- this is Bumblebee, you know? You know how he gets-"

"Sam." It was a tone of voice that had rolled eyes in it.

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry! I just- this is Bumblebee, okay? He takes everything seriously. He's not- I really don't think today's going to end well, that's all."

"You don't really have a choice," Mikaela observed.

"What, because Princeton's not gonna change their policy? Mikaela-"

"I meant because we're here already," Mikaela said, as the sign for Hangar B flashed past.

"... oh." Sam would've run a hand over his face, but he was still wearing his helmet. "Oh God. Oh God, I'm out of- I can do this. I can totally do this."

"Keep telling yourself that, Sam," said Mikaela. "I can't help you on this one."

"You're sure?"

The door to the hangar slid open and the bike whizzed past. "I'm sure."

"He's your friend too, you know."

"Yes, but he's your car."

Sam gulped, took a deep breath, and nodded. "All right I can- all right."

Under other circumstances, he would've stopped to say hello to Optimus, or any of the soldiers he knew who weren't too tied up in their daily duties to speak with. Sam had been steeling himself for this all day, though, and if he pulled up short now he'd lose his nerve. When Mikaela finally cut the engine he pulled his helmet off, squared his shoulders, and marched straight to the maintenance bay. "Bumblebee? You, uh, you okay, big guy?"

A flash of yellow caught Sam's eye as he turned the corner. An Army tech on the opposite side of the Camaro's hood looked up and waved. "Just a few scratches," the tech said. "I'll get out of your way."

Sam almost wished the man had stayed, if only for the moral support. Almost. This was probably better off private anyway. A familiar array of metal-on-metal noises and electronic churrs rang out behind him; he turned around to face a fully upright Bumblebee. "Make yourself at home 'cause you're / Welcome..."

"I don't think I'm ever going to get over that," Sam murmured. "Uh. Sorry. Hi, Bumblebee. Didn't mean to interrupt anything. You're sure you're okay?"

The robot nodded, indicating a few body panels with marginally brighter patches of paint. "'Tis but a scratch," he noted in the voice of the Black Knight. "I've had worse."

"Uh. Yeah." Sam's hand went to the back of his neck unconsciously. "How'd that happen, anyway? That wasn't anything we did yesterday. I'd remember if anything happened to you- ah. okay. You were with the other Autobots. That's good," he said as Bumblebee indicated Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's own repair bay. "That's... that's really good."

His voice wobbled fractionally on the last word, and he kicked himself internally for it- the more so because Bumblebee cocked his head at the sound. "Tell me if you got a problem, tell me if it's in your way, tell me if there's something bothering you..."

"I- no, it's not something bothering me, it's just-" He fought the urge to press both hands against his face. "Bumblebee, there's something I have to tell you, okay?"

"Hello, Seattle. I'm listening."

Sam settled for pushing the palms of his hands together. "Okay. Well, uh, you know, I'm starting college next week, right? Of course you do, you've seen how much packing and getting ready we've been doing- anyway, uh-"

Bumblebee nodded, optic shutters flickering briefly in an impression of a blink.

"Well... you can't come with me." Sam hunched his shoulders.

"Surely you can't be serious!"

"I'm really sorry-" Sam's hands started flailing of their own accord. "Look, it's Princeton, okay? They don't let freshmen or sophomores have cars, and there's nowhere to park anywhere near campus, you'd just be rusting in a garage somewhere-"

Bumblebee shook his head rapidly at that. "How can I protect you in this crazy world?"

"Ahgahd. Look, Bee, I'm not trying to- I'm sorry, okay?" Sam dragged one hand over his face and let out a sigh. "It's been two years now, right? Almost three soon? The Decepticons haven't even had a signal come through in all that time. What's there for you to protect me from?"

"There's something due any day; I will know right away-"

"You can't put your life on hold protecting me from something that isn't happening!"

But the Autobot wasn't listening. "It may come cannonballing down through the sky, gleam in its eye-"

"Bumblebee!" Sam all but shouted. "Please!"

Bumblebee went quiet.

"Look." Sam forced himself to look the mech in the eye, or at least as close as he could get. "Bumblebee. I don't want to do this. I really don't. But there's nowhere for you where I'm going. It's just a place for- you know, for humans. Here's different. Here, this is a place for humans and Autobots. You've got a place here. You belong here. You don't-"

How it was possible for a sixteen-foot-tall alien war machine covered in armor and guns to look like a kicked puppy Sam didn't know, but there was no other way to describe it. Bumblebee's shoulders didn't so much hunch as partially sink into his torso, and his optics dimmed as he lowered his head.

Sam closed his eyes, bit one knuckle. "Oh, jeez, Bee, I'm sorry..."

"I'll be by your side, wherever you fall," warbled the quiet little voice from Bumblebee's half-muted speakers. "In the dead of night, whenever you call..."

"... uh," Sam managed, opening his eyes. "I'm not... you can come and visit, if you want, if it's okay with Optimus and all. Or if there's an emergency, or something. I'm good with that. I am. I promise."

Bumblebee was still for a moment; then he nodded.

"Okay then," said Sam, who suddenly wanted to be anywhere that wasn't somewhere he could see the yellow 'bot's wounded look. "Uh. I don't... that's it, really. I didn't have anything else to say. Just- that. I mean. And goodbye, I guess."

Bumblebee reached out with one hand. Oh, God, please don't let him quote E.T. at me, Sam thought. But no; as Sam reached up to make contact with Bumblebee's fingertips, the voice of Billie Holiday answered instead. "I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places, that this heart of mine embraces..."

"I'm gonna miss you, Bee," Sam managed, and squeezed the Autobot's hand with both of his once before turning to leave.

Not an auspicious start to the school year.

When the Autobots were first granted refuge and a home on Earth by the United States government, it was at a location some distance from Barstow, California. The existing military infrastructure in the region made it possible to keep an eye on the aliens, and its relative proximity to the Witwicky family's home meant Bumblebee never had to drop entirely out of daily contact with the rest of his people. It had another advantage, as well- the local roads were seldom of interest to the Highway Patrol, who more often focused their attention southward or west of town. Nevertheless, just to be on the safe side, the human brass at Autobase had made a few phone calls when they caught sight of Bumblebee pulling up to the gates and the Twins rolling out to meet him. Sometimes it just didn't pay to take chances.

The human brass were wise.

"Give me, give me the speed I need
I want more life, don't need this state to last-"

A smudge of brilliant red flared down the winding road, unwitnessed by any save a family of startled roadrunners. Close behind, almost too close to follow, came a streak of blinding gold; a little ways after, one of yellow and black, its engine gunning for all it was worth.

"I want more to burn, I want more to break
so give me the speed I need-"

"Nice place you found here, Bumblebee!" called Sunstreaker to the trailing Camaro. "Not too bad, for organic engineering!"

"My own movements feel so strange
Are we all insane, or is it only me?"

"Got to hand it to you, Bee," Sideswipe added, "you always did know how to find the good roads."

"Even if you can't keep up with us on them-"

"Sunstreaker! Not his fault!"

The gold Aero laughed, dropping his speed down a tad. "No offense, Bumblebee," he said.

"Believing, believing the free will-" The blaring music fell back into the background as Bumblebee mustered the volume to speak. "None taken," he answered. "I get my job done."

"No kidding." Sideswipe rounded a particularly narrow curve in the road, cutting his speed in preparation for the climb ahead. "I've been going over your records since you got here."

The music switched reflexively. "Check my records, check my facts, check if I paid my income tax-"

"We're your mentors, we're allowed," Sunstreaker answered, unruffled.

"Sorry," Bumblebee answered, creeping forward. Sunstreaker had always been the heavier mech, and on steeply inclined roads like this, it showed. "Considering what happened in Mission City-"

"Yeah, about that."

A human would've held his breath. Bumblebee merely went silent.

"You did an incredible job, Bumblebee," said Sunstreaker. "All of you."

"The odds were stacked against you from the start," Sideswipe added. "To make it out alive like that-"

Bumblebee couldn't help but shiver inwardly, remembering. "But Jazz- the Allspark-"

Sunstreaker's horn let out a rude, blattering sound that echoed off the hillsides around them. "Who were you up against, Bumblebee? Huh? Combat monsters. Flyers. Mechs with kill counts too long to keep track of. You're still here."

Bumblebee was still silent, save for his engine's rumble.

"Besides," Sideswipe noted, "I couldn't help but notice you took a lesson from your old teacher."

The puzzled sqwarnk? of Bumblebee's horn in response startled a family of coyotes otherwise long since used to ignoring what happened on the roads nearby.

"Giving the Cube to the human boy? Looks like I taught you to gamble after all."

"Oh."

As they reached the crest of the hill, Sunstreaker signaled to his twin, and the two Aeros pulled to a halt. Bumblebee followed suit, silently grateful for the moment's respite, but still puzzled nonetheless.

"What my brother's trying to say," Sunstreaker finally said aloud, "is that we're proud of you. You did good."

"We all tried to-"

"Not 'you all'," Sunstreaker said, a little more firmly. "You. You're the one we raised, not them. It's you we're proud of."

It wasn't often that Bumblebee was genuinely struck speechless, but this was one of those times.

Sideswipe laughed. "Nice one, Sunny. Knock the sparkling for a loop, why don't you."

"I'm not a sparkling!" Bumblebee protested. "Not in centuries!"

"Prove it, then," said Sunstreaker. "Catch up with me."

The gold Aero gunned its engines, rocketing off down the hill. Bumblebee let out a rasping, hissing laugh and followed after.

There's been an immense buzz around the four new Autobots ever since they rolled into the hangar at Autobase. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe have been immensely popular with virtually everyone on base. For all that Sunny is a vain sort of fellow, he does have his gracious side, and he knows how to play to a crowd- you have to, when you're built as well as he is. Sideswipe is mostly content to follow his twin's lead, and listen when the humans talk. Perceptor's been busily digesting every bit of information he can get a feed on, whether on the ground or in the air. His sole foray into the unfiltered realms of the human Internet sent him screaming back to the filtered database Bumblebee provided. (Specifically, screaming "MY OPTICS! I HAVE TO HAVE THEM REPLACED NOW! OTHERWISE I MIGHT SEE SOME OF THAT AGAIN!".) And Arcee...

Well, Arcee's been pretty popular, when she's actually been on the base, but she's spent a lot of time out racing against the Earth winds and thinking in solitude. She's got a few questions she doesn't really want to put to the other mechs, or to most of the soldiers, but there's someone who might be good for a few answers, which is why she's coming back to the maintenance bays to look for Lissar.

There isn't an Autobot on Earth who doesn't spend time every day scanning the skies for signals, or analyzing SETI @ Home, or otherwise sifting through the bits and bytes and signals and silences coming from space. Their people are out there, after all- hostile and friendly alike. While it's nice that the human intelligence and scientific communities are listening, ultimately it's all too clear that pegging Cybertronian signals is a job for... well... Cybertronians.

One such signal came through the other night. Four mechs, incoming: Perceptor, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker- and Arcee.

One can imagine the current state of anticipation at Autobase.

The minor planet Varuna orbits Sol at such a distance that its presence was only detected by the momentary disturbance it made when it occulted the light of a distant star. No planet-bound telescope could hope to catch sight of it. Even satellites set in Earth's orbit, probing endlessly outward into the deep and lonely skies, scarcely stand a chance. Space is vast, and Varuna tiny. No one looks for it much, or monitors it often. No telescope was turned Varuna's way on the day of the battle in Mission City.

A pity. They missed a hell of a fight.

Shockwave's leap was perfect, his arc unmarred by petty considerations like atmospheric drag. Starscream would admire it later, for all that he despised the mech who made it. He shoved himself sideways, priming his attitudinal thrusters for a massive burn. His only chance was to keep the other mech off balance, too rattled to plot his way through the fight. As it was, Shockwave's right fist landed a massive blow that sent Starscream spinning. - Call that a strike? - he taunted, righting himself. - I'm disappointed, Shockwave! -

- I call that a beginning, - the cycloptic mech answered, his optic burning like the light of an ancient star as he brought up his other arm. Aeons ago, he'd lost his left hand in combat. Another mech would have had it replaced, or upgraded; Shockwave had opted instead for a dedicated energy cannon. Starscream had seen it tear through Autobot prisoners' torsos, leaving nothing behind but glowing, slag-edged holes. Unleashing his own missiles was pure reflex, an instinctive need to give that thing other, smaller targets. And it worked- Shockwave fired on the incoming attacks, point defense shots swift and precise. Starscream rejoiced, lashing out at his enemy's other side while he was distracted, striking where the joint of arm and body were exposed.

The WHAM! of Shockwave's fist coming up to meet Starscream's midsection might have been silent, but it resounded through every part of his system nonetheless. - I don't need to think to take down missiles in vacuum, - Shockwave pointed out. - Autofire does it for me. Predictable, Starscream. Far too predictable. - His fingers flickered out of the fist, grasped the edge of Starscream's armor; as Starscream wrenched himself free, his feet shot out from under him, smashed away by an almost careless slam from one of Shockwave's feet. - But then, you always were- -

- You know nothing! - Starscream shot back, tucking and rolling away in the planetoid's low gravity. His feet found purchase on a minor outcropping; he pushed off, unfolded, opened fire. - Lurker! Skulker! When did you last take the field? Who'd you fight last? I've seen battles you'll never know! -

- And that's all you know. - Shockwave evaded Starscream's blasts with almost disgusting ease, shifting this or that body part halfway to alt mode rather than bothering to move. - Force, nothing more. -

- I have- aaaugh! - His transmission aborted in a burst of white noise as Shockwave's energy blast lanced through the space where his head had been mere microseconds before. - You missed! Since when do you miss? -

For answer there was only another blast, blindingly bright, and a third- and then Shockwave was there, on top of him, his lone optic filling Starscream's entire field of vision. - Oh, - Shockwave answered as his fingers clamped down on Starscream's neck, - I think I found my target. -

Starscream's servos locked in place across the board. He'd've fought back against any other mech, but Shockwave's cannon-hand was lodged against his midsection in such a way that the slighest twitch from Shockwave would send a pulse of incalculable energy straight through Starscream's spark chamber.

- You have enough sense to choose to live. Good. - Shockwave's head slid back fractionally. - I had begun to wonder. -

It took Starscream several seconds to process that. - You're not going to kill me? -

- No, - Shockwave said simply. He released Starscream's throat and stepped back, though his cannon remained primed to fire. - Insults mean nothing, Starscream. And my plans have no room in them for petty revenge. -

- Your plans, - Starscream repeated. - What did you have in mind? -

- Nothing more and nothing less than what Lord Megatron tasked me with in the beginning, - Shockwave answered. - Even before the war. There is more to this star's third planet than you know. -

- Oh, I can't wait to hear this, - Starscream sent, endeavoring to convey the feel of a skeptical mutter.

If Shockwave noticed, he gave no sign. - Tell me, - he said calmly. - What do you know of the Matrix of Leadership? -

- The what? - Starscream sputtered, staring at the other mech as if he'd grown another head. - Are you insane? That was lost so long ago it's nothing but legend! -

- No, Starscream, - Shockwave returned. - It may have been lost by the Second Prime and Second Lord, but that kind of power cannot be destroyed. I have been searching records and calculating chances since the day Lord Megatron first accepted me into his service and set me to guaranteeing his ultimate victory. It exists. And it is here. There was something almost like the sound of a smile to his signal as he added, - Why do you think the Allspark came to rest where it did? Power calls to power. Each of the Twelve gave a share of their own sparks to light the Matrix, and the last share- -

- Was lit by the Allspark itself, because the Fallen had passed into darkness, - Starscream finished, the words coming slowly out of long-stored memories of ancient myth. - So you think... -

- I don't think. I know, - Shockwave said, his tone alight with a mixture of logic and fanaticism that set Starscream's spark to trembling. - Come now. We must find our people and prepare. We'll return to Earth, of that you can be certain... and when we do, nothing will send us away again but the dissolution of our sparks. -

There were islands on Earth larger than Varuna. Landing was a simple matter of homing in on Shockwave's signal, selecting a suitably flat patch of surface, and letting the local gravity take over; there was no atmosphere to complicate his descent. Starscream maintained flawless form the whole way down, nevertheless. He had a witness, after all, and under no circumstances would he let that witness catch him at anything less than his best. Shockwave might have been built with only a single optic, but that blasted sensor saw everything.

The ruddy-grey dust of the surface crunched beneath his weight as he straightened up, facing the other mech. - Shockwave, - he sent as pleasantly as close-range commlink signals would allow. - Imagine meeting you here, after all this time. -

Shockwave's lone optic flickered in acknowledgment. - The search has been a long one, - he acknowledged. - Both of us have been very busy. -

Starscream wondered if he could get away with a scan of the other, older mech. Shockwave looked as if he'd taken a few steps to modify himself since leaving Cybertron, and it would've set Starscream a fraction more at ease to know for sure what he was dealing with. Then again, this was Shockwave. He'd achieved his position at Megatron's side through planning and intelligence gathering more than direct combat. An active scan would only tip him to Starscream's uncertainy, slag the luck... Starscream only nodded. - All of us have, - he said. - You must have been especially caught up, to arrive so late on the scene. -

- I am neither late nor early, Starscream, - Shockwave replied. - I have come precisely when I intended to arrive. -

The signal's tone was bland, neutral; Starscream felt an instant's flare of anticipation at the reaction he hoped to get. - Oh, really? - he answered, as casually as he could. - You of all mechs planned to arrive after Megatron's death? And here I thought you were his loyalist... -

The gleam of Shockwave's optic narrowed to a single, laser-red point. - Megatron's death, - he repeated, that point locked onto Starscream. - Explain. -

- Of course. - This was almost too good. - Lord Megatron followed the Allspark's trail here thousands of years ago. It seems he expended all of his reserves, and went into stasis lock after entering the third planet's atmosphere in his pursuit. The natives found both Megatron and the Allspark, and took primitive but effective containment measures for both. -

Starscream paused, waiting for further reaction from Shockwave. He got none. The other mech might as well have been an unsparked, unpowered assembly save for that burning optic. - An Autobot scout arrived here some years ago and infiltrated the third planet's population, - he continued, a little disgruntled. - He failed to locate the Allspark himself, only a handful of organics- -

Shockwave held up one hand. - Clarify. Organics? -

- All sentient life of the third planet is organic life, - Starscream answered. - The only technologically capable civilization present is a land-dwelling species called 'humans'. -

- I will require more information on the humans later, - said Shockwave. - Continue. -

Starscream's own optics narrowed briefly at that, but he nodded. - The Autobot scout turned up several humans who had had contact with Megatron and the Allspark, - he said. - When we located him, I set the other Decepticons in the system to following his trail, rather than wasting their efforts elsewhere. We eventually located Megatron's prison and I set him free. -

Shockwave's head canted a few degrees to one side, but beyond that, he made no response at all.

- The Autobots had made contact with the humans, - Starscream continued, - and attempted to flee with the Allspark. We drove them into a population center and I ordered a full-scale attack, destroying a fifth of the Autobot presence on the planet and a considerable portion of the humans' military forces. Megatron had all but destroyed Optimus Prime when the Allspark's energies were unleashed against him. -

Shockwave's head turned, slowly, smoothly, in the direction from which Starscream had come. Just as slowly and smoothly, it turned back. - Our forces' conditions? -

- Decimated, - Shockwave allowed. - I intend to gather the rest of the Decepticons and rally them under my command against the surviving Autobots. -

There was no sound. There had been none, could be none, in the airless void through which Varuna drifted. Nevertheless, there fell a silence deeper than what had been before.

- Under your command, - Shockwave said at last.

- Mine, - Starscream agreed. - I was second-in-command. Megatron is dead- -

- Even in death there is only his command, Starscream. -

The tone shot a thread of foreboding through Starscream's processor, but he ignored it; there was too much at stake to back down now. The words of a fool or a fanatic, he shot back. - Which are you, I wonder? -

- There's only one fool here, - Shockwave answered. - Defend yourself, Aerospace Commander. -

And Shockwave leapt...

Starscream seethed with rage as he slipped past the bounds of Earth's atmosphere, hurtling outwards through the silent dark. This wasn't happening! This couldn't have happened! Megatron, fallen- all right, he hadn't exactly been saddened when that happened, but to see it done at a human's hands? And at such a cost- the Allspark, gone forever; the Decepticons, dead or scattered; the Autobots entrenching on Earth- no, never! He would no sooner put up with that than willingly submit to a lifetime of servitude. Earth's people would pay for this, oh, yes... and as for Optimus Prime...

... well, that would be a little harder. Despite all the sheer fury crackling along his circuits, even Starscream had to quail a little at the thought of bringing him down. That would take planning- and help. He'd lost too many followers already today. Best to get well clear of the range of any Autobot scanners on Earth, then work out how to marshal his forces. He had no doubt there would be scanners pointed to that miserable planet's skies; even a mech gone as soft in the processor towards the natives as Prime and his lot would still be wary.

Starscream thought for a while, riding the solar winds outward. As the crackling hiss of Earth's magnetosphere dropped away from his circuits, he recalled his original journey into this wretched system. There were a handful of minor planets out beyond the orbit of the last gas giant- rockballs, the lot of them, but large enough to cause the odd gravitational disturbance. A quick poll of his long-range sensors turned up one within relatively easy reach. It would do for a base while he ran through his options. He allowed himself an inward smile as he set course for the planetoid the humans called Varuna.

At lightspeed, the trip would've been a matter of hours. Starscream had no particular need to hurry. There were no Autobots in pursuit- no pursuit at all- so he contented himself with speculation about who would be the first to fall once he and his followers returned. He'd replayed his favorite Earth invasion scenario for the fifth time when something impinged on his awareness: a transponder signal. A familiar signal. A Decepticon signal. Coming from- he shifted through his analyzers quickly, altered his position, triangulated- coming from the approximate location of Varuna.

Well. This was going to be interesting.

- Hail received and position noted, - he sent back, matching the other Decepticon's frequency. - I'm approaching your position as we speak. Remain calm. -

There was a momentary pause, a fractional hesitation of signal transit time- Varuna was still a long way off- when the answering signal came in. - I always do, - it said, its tone tranquil and almost amused. - Identify yourself. -

- Aerospace Commander Starscream, - he answered slowly. There was something about the other mech's signals that tripped too many alarm circuits for his liking. - And who am I speaking to? -

- Shockwave. -

- Acknowledged, - Starscream somehow managed, forcing his tone to remain even. - ETA in twenty kliks. Aerospace Commander Starscream out.

He cut all signal contact with the other mech and poured on all the engine power he could muster. The sharp, sudden flare behind him, the hamfisted slam of inertia, were all the release the soundless vacuum of space could offer for his rage. Of all the 'Cons to find, after everything that had happened, the first one had to be him? Megatron's other adjutant, the only competition Starscream had ever had for his position as second in command? There was no way this could end well. He suddenly wished he'd been able to grab a human on his way out of Earth's atmosphere; he could use something to eject into space and fire a few missiles at. . .

It would have to wait. Varuna was growing closer with every passing instant. Starscream would need all his wits about him if he was going to come out ahead.