"What do you two think you are doing?" Ratchet demanded upon walking into the back of the med bay to find Thundercracker and Bluestreak sitting by the holo-table, images of three sparks hovering above it. He recognized all of them and went over to hit the button to deactivate two of them. "This is for medical use only. Neither of you have any business ogling Ironhide's and Chromia's sparks."

"We were curious, is all," Bluestreak said. "Thundercracker mentioned it to me and we started talking and then decided to use some visual aid. I didn't think it would cause any harm. But it's interesting. And it isn't like we would hold it against either of them."

"I should hope not," Ratchet replied sharply. He tapped in a command and brought up the file on Bluestreak's spark. A jagged green line circled its entirety. Bluestreak looked away. Ratchet merely frowned. He then glanced from one spark to the other. "So, what did you want to know?"

Thundercracker eyed the image of the third spark -- his own. It was a darker blue than the others and was pitted with reddish-violet marks. "What is the difference between joining and merging sparks? The Decepticons never used such words. Only stabilize, terminate, or save it for Megatron."

Ratchet shuddered. "Well, since we have an example already..." He removed the images of their sparks and pulled up the previous two again. "In the case of joining or merging, the sparks first need to be compatible. Ironhide and Chromia are just one example because they are mates. They have already joined sparks, hence their ability to link up and create new additional armor or weaponry together." He brought up a wire frame video depicting the fight with Dirge in Oakland that used battle data for the simulation. "Sibling-sparked mechs can do this as well, but in their case it is because they started out as one spark."

Thundercracker tilted his head. "I hadn't heard that one before."

Ratchet nodded. "They are rare. Sparks do not usually split, but every once in a while there will be an excess of energy that creates an additional individual. It is also possible for unrelated sparks to be joined in a sibling rapport for the advantages I mentioned earlier. However, they cannot merge. Only compatible mates can do so."

Bluestreak nodded to the images. "Does that mean Ironhide and Chromia are not completely compatible?"

"No, they are. It is just that..." Ratchet hesitated. Further information was on the confidential side. He trusted Thundercracker to keep it to himself, but he worried that Bluestreak would unintentionally blab during his penchant for rambling. He tried to think of the best way to explain it to prevent that. "...There is more to it than our science can define. There is a limit to a spark's power when it is scarred." He gave Bluestreak a measuring glance; indicating the younger mech's own issues might make him keep the information to himself.

Bluestreak nodded, humbled.

"So, what happens when sparks merge?" Thundercracker asked.

"A variety of things. Energy and data exchange, a strengthening of the bond between the two individuals, a new spark." Ratchet included the last in an off-hand manner. To his relief they both merely nodded along and didn't catch the last reference, sparing him from questions about consequences.

"Hmm," Thundercracker murmured, "So what did Megatron get out of absorbing them?"

Ratchet rumbled, seething at the thought and not hiding his disgust. "A depraved power trip." The two looked at him in shock, not used to hearing him speak in such a tone. He didn't apologize. "It is one thing to terminate a life. It is another thing altogether to deny a spark its final rest. No being has that right."

Bluestreak shuddered, hands tightening on his folded arms. Thundercracker merely watched Ratchet, meeting the medic's gaze. Ratchet watched him in turn, almost expectantly. The Neutral understood and said quietly, "There are examples in human culture that express a principle of the path of enlightenment that involves being reincarnated -- reborn as another type of creature, human or otherwise, as defined by their social structure. The soul -- or spark -- is the same, but must learn various lessons in order to ascend to the next level when they die. When they have ascended far enough they reach true enlightenment. Megatron denies his victim that final step."

Ratchet nodded slowly, wondering at Thundercracker's source material. "Hence why he was more than just a threat to the universe as a conquerer. Again, there is a difference between conquering and devastating."

Bluestreak abruptly stood and walked around to the other side of the table, halting by the shelves and studying their contents. "Say, Thundercracker, what happens if they don't learn the lesson they needed to? Do they simply not die until they do, or are they reborn as the same person?"

"Like all organics, they die at the end of their fragile lifespan," the Neutral explained, "If they did not learn, they are reborn as something at the same level. If they did not learn and became worse, they will be reincarnated as something lower in the social structure."

Bluestreak turned and blinked. "Humans have...interesting concepts about life."

Thundercracker smiled -- or tried to. "There are literally billions of different cultural beliefs in the universe. Obviously you did not make a study of them, but someone in your fold did."

"Hey," Bluestreak protested, "I'm a fighter, not a scientist. Not that I'm not interested in studying, but I'm usually busy doing other things."

Thundercracker chuckled briefly and added, "Besides, humans all likely think our culture is strange."

Ratchet turned off the holographic display. "Of course they do. Other than a laptop computer or a flip-phone, they have never had transforming technology, and their artificial intelligence programs are shaky at best. For many of them, sentient machinery is a thought that shorts their processors."

"Meanwhile," Thundercracker said, "We consider them to be technologically inferior. Quite a cycle. I am sure it has occurred on other planets."

"Only when we stopped long enough to take in the local scenery," Ratchet said. "Following a potential lead, having vehicles to copy." He stopped and tilted his head, typing into the holo-table keyboard. An image of the schematics for Rhythm and Blues appeared over it. Ratchet reviewed the super structure, then zoomed in on the powercore area. It appeared he was having an internal discussion with Broadcast, for he rotated the image, examining a few important transformation relays and nodding occasionally. Then he closed it down.

Bluestreak was the first to ask, "What was that about?"

"Just something Broadcast and I have been working on."

"When are you not working on those little bots?" Bluestreak asked, glancing at the empty table.

"When I am not working on him." Ratchet pointed at Thundercracker, a good-natured gleam in his optics.

Bluestreak grinned at the Neutral. "Did you pick an alt mode yet?"

Thundercracker tapped the edge of the table with one finger. "No. I actually seemed to do well imitating a pile of scrap."

"You can't stay that way forever." Bluestreak headed out of the room. "I have a shift coming up. I'll be on the lookout for more bugs."

"Do that," Ratchet mumbled as he brought up yet another set of schematics on the table. These were of Thundercracker's entire system layout. "You do need the armor for it, but given the last supply inventory from the Ark, I have enough material to give you the rest of the mass your frame can handle. Do you have any idea what type of alt mode you would prefer? I merely need a template to build up your body, then you can scan whatever you like in that size category. Given that you are taller than me when you stand straight you have numerous choices."

Thundercracker leaned to the side until he could see into the front room and make sure it was clear before he replied, "I was hoping to delay this for a little longer. I...need to admit my reluctance to leave the vicinity of Autobase One. A good number of humans can tell the difference between an Autobot and a Decepticon. I still resemble the latter and especially fully armored I know there are mannerisms I won't have shed. It will take more time to...change."

Ratchet nodded. "Understood. Still, you might as well begin preparing for that time. You can also rescan something else later."

Thundercracker thought for a moment then stood and went over to the side computer to open a video file. "There is a certain type of jet used in a popular airshow. I would like a change in paint scheme, too..."

~*~

"Secretary Keller? You have a call on line two from a Mister Ron Arcstrom."

John Keller regarded the call box on his desk with a raised eyebrow, then picked up the phone and hit the blinking number two button. The only Autobots he ever expected calls from were Optimus Prime and Trailbreaker. "Good afternoon, Arcstrom. How can I help you?"

"Hello, John. I need to call on a favor," Ironhide replied. "Do you have any agents free who are overdue for a cruise? I need a solid escort temporarily while I'm on leave."

"On leave?" Keller wondered at the implications when the Autobots were still working on the Ark issue. "Do you have clearance for this?"

"Yes. I intend to remain in suit at all times, or at least as necessary to continue the cover operation."

"All right. I'll see what I can do. Do you have port details yet?"

"Yes, sir."

~*~

Ironhide sank low on his struts as he felt the swaying motion of the ocean liner through the cargo hold's floor. He was anchored in place like the dozen other vehicles around him yet was the only one that could appreciate the relaxing pitch of the ocean. He relegated his worries about leaving not just Autobase but also the United States to a subroutine at the bottom of his processor. There was no turning back now.

Well, not without contracting a case of rust from sea water. He had never been fond of swimming since he tended to sink like a rock.

The trip would take over three weeks. All that time with nothing to do except think. It had been centuries since he had taken as much time to focus on himself. He hadn't even thought of that before, he had simply gone about his function with the Allspark recovery programmed in as the end result. Now, with the reality of Earth as a home settling in and Chromia returned to him, his processor had moved on to other things.

He was concerned about the Decepticons and several times had almost cancelled his leave, himself. They may have been weakened without Megatron and had already suffered a second defeat on Earth, but he wasn't going to count them out for good. However, the loss of the Allspark kept coming back to him, reminding him of his age and the knowledge that while Cybertron's fate was sealed, there was still hope for another generation of their kind to be born. One that could be free of the conflict.

To be free of the fighting... He had discussed it with Ratchet before, soon after the battle for Mission City. He knew he was excellent at his function but he wanted to be more than just a walking weapons platform. He had long feared that it was so hardwired into him that he would never shed the impulse to fight. Ratchet had been right to suggest disabling his cannons. It was the first step. Next he had to remove the psychological impulse, and for that he needed to find a place where he would be least tempted to fight.

Chromia was different from him that way. She had chosen to become a warrior and had learned to become the best. He had been built and programmed for it from the very start. Such was one reason he was on this journey alone. It would have been easier with her along to see the things he would otherwise miss, yet that defeated the purpose.

He hadn't told anyone, but shortly after the Ark had crashed he had begun looking at Earth's remote regions for ideas. One place in particular caught his attention, a continent between the Pacific and Indian Oceans known for its rugged outlands. The trick had been finding a way to get there. He was glad no one had come across him while he was researching. He had told Ratchet and mentioned a few things to Chromia and of course to his commanding officers as well, but aside from them he hadn't wanted anyone else to know until after he left -- if even then. He hadn't wanted to be teased before he left, and didn't want anyone to bring it up when he returned; if he succeeded, that was his business. If he failed... he didn't want to be reminded of it. For the time being he was incommunicado with Autobase and the Ark to avoid prying questions on the way.

~*~

Huffer released an annoyed hiss of steam from his side vents as he held the adult human aloft for the other Autobots gathered around Teletraan-1 to see. "Found him in corridor C-one-eight. I said I didn't want to be disturbed, and I meant it."

Red Alert looked about himself. "But I had been watching -- I was certain he had not left my side!"

Despite his awkward position, Simmons folded his arms and smirked. Or partially folded his arms, since he was being held by the back of his jacket.

Optimus sighed. "Reginald, I agreed to let you into this base regardless of its state of disrepair. I would appreciate if you didn't take it upon yourself to find your way around. Especially when your counsel was the topic of our debate."

"Sorry, it's a habit. I see alien stuff, I want to look at it and document it." Reggie's tone was perfect Sector Seven nonchalance.

Red Alert was mortified. "That does not give you the right to walk off on your own!"

Prowl also glared at the human from where he stood beside Teletraan-1. He tapped a button on the console and a smaller version of the monitor and keyboard slid out from the front of the machine. "Your disk and the access code you promised..?" he hinted.

Huffer put the human down and nudged him toward the console then set his feet to block the way out of the room. Simmons tugged his jacket into place, walking calmly toward Teletraan-1 as he took out the CD. "Now that's nice and convenient. Planning to have more humans using this equipment?" He glanced up at Prime.

"Do you remember Frenzy?" Optimus asked in response.

"That little freakazoid?" Reggie snorted. "A pushover."

"Autobots come in that size, too." Optimus glanced pointedly at the scaled down keyboard. "Now then, you have information on the Decepticons. How were you able to find them when our advanced equipment could not?"

Reggie smirked. "You were apparently using the wrong advanced equipment." He took another object from inside his jacket, this one square and resembling a piece of plain foil wrap.

Huffer gave a start as soon as the object was in the air. He leaned over, extending a tiny clamp from his wrist and taking the square from Simmons before the human could blink. The clamp rotated as Huffer brought it close to his optics to scan it. "I know this tech. Where did you get it?"

Reggie hid his annoyance and leaned on the small console. "You guys do know you're not the only aliens to visit Earth, don't you?"

"Obviously," Huffer replied. He turned to Optimus. "In the Falxerne System my team met a non-robotic bio-engineered race of scientists who had created a microscopic pulse generator that rendered anyone in contact with it completely undetectable by sight, sound, scent, radar, infrared -- you name it. And they were more advanced than us, for being organic creatures." He cast a sidelong glance at Simmons. "Talk about something falling into the wrong hands."

Reggie made an exaggerated shrug, arms spread wide. "Finders keepers, losers weepers. I told you S.-Seven was my life. I collect weird stuff."

Prowl frowned. "So that was Sector Seven property that you took when you left."

"No," the human answered indignantly. "It's mine. I found it. With how long I've been studying aliens I know where to look."

Prowl's tone was still accusing. "So instead it's something you didn't report to Sector Seven. Isn't that against the rules? Since you like to quote them to others." Simmons scowled up at him.

Huffer peered at the square again. "How much of this did you find? A sample this small isn't much good to anyone."

"Enough to fool the Decepticons. Do you want to see this, or what?" Simmons held up the CD.

Prime motioned to the console. "Please, go ahead." Meanwhile, he opened a private frequency to Huffer. "Check his vehicle. Be subtle."

Huffer nodded, adding a, "Hmm. I wonder how long this was here. Mind if I analyze it?"

Simmons didn't bother to look at him, busy with his own security pop-ups. "Knock yourself out."

"Riiight," Huffer replied, slipping quietly away to the Ark's improvised entrance. Meanwhile, the others moved closer to see what Simmons had on the disk.

A list of video files came up on Teletraan-1's main screen. The human clicked the first one. A visual of choppy gray water appeared, the camera bobbing in time with the waves. A rasping voice came next. "This is Reginald Simmons...Bit of a swim to get over here, but the suit's working fine. There's two jets flying around but the boat's cover worked, too. Good thing, because if they didn't get me, this guy might." There was a splash, then the camera moved closer to a large, dark shape in the water. "Zoom in," Simmons' voice said quietly. The dark shape resolved into the rear of an aircraft carrier. A painted name sat just above the waterline, reading TIDAL WAVE. "Not one of ours. Or Her Majesty's. So, what's it doing out here? Let's find out, shall we?"

The file ended. Reggie clicked on the next one. The camera opened on a shot of the carrier's deck near the control tower. "That was close. Just avoided a flying rat." The video continued on through a doorway and down a stairwell, then on to some scaffolding. The angle shifted to a view of Simmons' gloved hands clinging to a crossbeam as he crawled along it over a room studded with viewing screens. A large gray and white robot stood in the middle of the floor looking down at his left arm.

One of the Autobots cycled air in a gasp when he realized the mech was Soundwave, and that Simmons had dared to sneak around right under his olfactory sensor. The recorded human didn't seem worried. When he reached the center of the scaffolding he pointed the camera to each of the screens below. One showed a room with two small mechanoids who seemed to be arguing with each other. Another showed a training room where a panther-sized and -designed mech was sparring with an avian-type robot. Two screens showed empty hallways. On another the view seemed to be through curved glass; it showed a blond-haired young woman having an animated conversation with an overweight, dark skinned young man. Still another showed the tarmac of a military base. The largest screen held a view of a cargo bay containing five industrious robots working around a larger, familiar frame.

"No," Prime uttered, horrified.

The camera shifted straight down to view Soundwave's wrist, zooming in on the small screen there. A robot built like the other five was working around an open spark chamber.

"By the Allspark..." Red Alert whispered. "Are they insane? Do they truly expect to resurrect Megatron? His spark had to have burnt up!"

Before anyone could respond, the video cut off with the sound of a loud clatter reaching the microphone. The third file opened to a view of Reggie's face, soaked with either sea water or sweat. "If they're doing what it looks like they're doing, we're going to need a whole lot more ammo this time. Good thing I kept that vintage flame thrower. I counted fourteen of them, including the ship. No one's going to tell me that isn't also one of them. I'm going to stick around for a while. If I get out of here again, I'll let you know." The camera cut out.

Simmons turned from the console to regard the gathered Autobots, clasping his hands behind his back. "I have their coordinates. What do you plan to do about this?"

Optimus, looking grave, cycled some air in thought. He glanced at Prowl, then said, "Send those files to Ratchet so he can verify what is happening with both Megatron's body and that spark -- we have no way of knowing if that even is Megatron's actual spark. If it is, we need to stop them. Based on Ratchet's conclusion I want to organize a strike team. The Stunticons were in none of those security feeds, and we don't know if the Combaticons have made planetfall yet."

Simmons raised his eyebrows, hiding his sudden discomfort. "How many does that make, total?"

"At least twenty-five," Prowl said grimly.

"And...how many of you?" Reggie glanced around.

"Sixteen available on short notice," Optimus replied.

Simmons sighed loudly. "Guess I should call in the pros."

Red Alert, suddenly furious, pointed an accusing finger at the human. "You call in the pros? This needs to be brought to the attention of John Keller and Tom Banachek immediately!"

Optimus reached past him to hit a button on the main console. "Teletraan-1, open a message to ARROW headquarters, priority level urgent."

"Hey--!" Simmons protested, turning to glare at Prime. He then cast an awkward glance at the screen as Banachek's face came up in a video window. Then he found himself level with Teletraan's transmitting camera as Optimus picked him up.

"Tom," the Autobot leader announced, "We have found your rogue agent. He has some information you need to see."

~*~

Ratchet and Perceptor reviewed the video of the Constructicon's work for the umpteenth time. The image had been refined and separated from the rest of Reggie's files. Ratchet had enlisted Perceptor for a second opinion on the spark core segment. Everyone else had been banned from the med bay, including Thundercracker.

Perceptor made a displeased noise as he used his onboard instruments to magnify the readouts on the screen in Hook's workroom. "I cannot confirm beyond doubt the possibility that it is Megatron's spark. We can only assume, due to the question of where they could obtain another spark that they would then dare to place in their revered leader's shell."

"That is what I keep coming back to," Ratchet said. "I checked his body, myself, before the humans dumped it. There was no residual spark energy, nevermind a spark. Only leftover radiation from the Cube."

Perceptor replayed the file again, slowing the frame rate and analyzing a particular section. When he was certain of the input, he pointed to the spark chamber, then to one of the readouts. "See, there? A fluctuation in regard to the variety of energy wavelengths. What do you make of it?"

Ratchet squinted, studying the readout, then the spark chamber. "Hmmm..." He didn't speak again for several minutes as he ran through his internal records of spark activity. Then his optics brightened, wide with realization. "He did have time to... And it would explain why..." He didn't complete either thought, leaving Perceptor to stare at him, waiting, as the medic's optics became distant. He was about to tap Ratche'ts arm when the bulkier mech snapped back to the present.

"We need to get to that spark. Getting past their defenses will be difficult, but I have an idea." He turned to a second console that displayed data Huffer had sent about the Falxernian sample as well as the full body suit that the engineer had confiscated from Simmons' car. "I'm going to have Tracks pick this up so you and I can have a better look at it. I think we can make use of this given the assessment Huffer has made so far. I have the perfect subject to use it on." As Perceptor looked on, Ratchet pulled up a file on an F-18 Hornet.

~*~

"I'm going to kill him!" Lennox stormed into Banachek's office, having gone straight there after Eugene told him of the news from Autobase. "Who does he think he is?!"

Tom wasn't at all surprised by the reaction. Will and Reginald had continued to be at odds since their first confrontation with each other at Hoover Dam, and although Will usually made light of the trouble Reggie's absence caused since then, Tom knew the moment would come when Lennox would be genuinely angry. This was it.

While Will may have adapted to his new position in ARROW, he wasn't very far removed from his Army command mode, either. "I'm enlisting Powerglide to rendezvous with the Autobots right away. I'm taking Simmons into custody and acting on that data. Give me clearance on the anti-cyb guns."

Tom thought out his answer for five seconds too long. Lennox stepped up to the desk and planted his hands on its surface. "I trust Ratchet's analysis. We're talking about a possible resurrection of Megatron. You knew him as a popsicle, I led a team against him in a battlefield. We've been preparing to fight the Decepticons if we had to. It's sooner than we hoped, but it's here. Lift the locks and let's get to it!"

Banachek nodded, standing. "Well, you're not goin' alone. I'll get a team together, but without Powerglide for now. Just one thing, Will. You handle the robots, I'll handle Simmons."

"Sold," Will responded, his face grim. "But I'll take what's left of him after the court martial so I can give him a piece of my mind."

~*~

Broadcast settled back in his seat as Chromia joined him in the comm room. He gestured to the second chair but she shook her head, stepping up beside him and folding her arms across her chest. They both looked to the main screen, ready to start a video meeting with Optimus Prime and Prowl. The latter appeared to be weary, the likely cause of it sitting within view of the camera -- Simmons, looking entirely too smug for his own good. Broadcast raised his optic ridges. "Thought this was chiefs an' tacticians only?"

Optimus cast a glance downward. "Reginald wishes to aid us with his insight on the Decepticon's operations."

Broadcast lowered one optic ridge in a questioning expression, then shrugged. "Okay. Let's hear what you guys got. Prowl?"

"Based on what we know," Prowl began in a cautious tone, "This will not only be an infiltration mission but also a rescue mission."

Chromia and Broadcast both gaped at the screen. The boombox started to say, "What--"

Prowl cut him off. "Ratchet has a theory, a morbid one but it's something we're going to take a chance on -- if you are willing, Broadcast."

"Me?" Autobase's commander gestured to himself. "Why didn't Ratchet mention it in person? I'm right up the corridor."

Optimus inclined his head. "It was my decision. I had to be sure of our course before telling anyone."

"So, what is it?" Broadcast glanced quickly from Optimus to Prowl. "What in the universe could link me to the resurrection of Megatron?"

Prowl dimmed his optics. "Ratchet believes there is a possibility that the spark of one of our own is partially responsible for the reinitiation of Megatron's spark due to the proximity of Cube energy and the fact that this Autobot's spark was tied into that energy because of..." He paused for the right words. There really were none. "Because of Megatron's recent consumption of that spark."

Broadcast's jaw mechanisms went slack. "Jazz."

Prowl nodded. "Ratchet suggested that we use the download feature you two have been discussing for Rhythm and Blues to try to extract Jazz's spark from the possible conglomerate of Megatron's spark. We have only one shot at succeeding, however, and this is all still in theory. You--"

"I'll do it," Broadcast interrupted. "An' don't ask 'are you sure', 'cause yeah, I'm sure. He's my brother. I didn't have a choice but to accept it when I got here an' found out, but if there's any chance of bringin' him back, I'll do it."

Optimus remained silent, pain clear in his optics. Prowl nodded solemnly. "Very well then. The plan calls for a seven member team to disrupt the Decepticons at Tidal Wave while the rest of our available forces guard our bases. They have flyers so they could easily spring a retaliatory attack on us. Prime is leading the infiltration team. Broadcast and Thundercracker will do the initial infiltration, Arcee and Bluestreak will be long range defense, Ratchet will aid with Rhythm and Blues, and Firestar will evacuate Broadcast, Rhythm, Blues, and Arcee should we succeed. Firestar will bring them straight to the Ark where Moonracer will be our standby medic. This means we need Ratchet to help Huffer finish setting up the Ark's med bay.

"I will take coordinating command at the Ark with Huffer, Gears, and Windcharger for defense. Red Alert and Inferno will go to Autobase as protection. Perceptor is to continue work on the shard, but if anything happens Tracks is to be prepared to evacuate the shard and Chromia to evacuate Perceptor. Chromia is to be acting base commander."

The femme uttered a displeased sound. "While I understand the importance of protecting Perceptor, I must insist on joining the infiltration team."

Prowl shook his head. "No. We need that team as small as possible and it's more logical for Firestar to be the flight-capable bot on the team. You and Tracks are best for Autobase: he can carry the shard in its containment unit in his cab. While using your jetpack you can carry Perceptor in your arms. Neither Tracks nor Firestar can handle him in their alt modes."

Her optics flashed. "Ironhide was part of the end battle against Megatron. I should be there in his place to finish it for good!"

"No, Chromia," Prowl said, voice stern. "Ironhide would not have been included on the team if he was here. I would place him at the Ark. We can't risk this one over emotional attachment."

Chromia's optics flashed again and she looked down at Broadcast, then back at Prowl. Optimus put a hand on Prowl's shoulder at the same time Broadcast stood up on his chair and grabbed Chromia's near arm. "Diff'rent story, Lady C," his warned quietly. "I understand where you're comin' from, but if this goes bad we're gonna need as many warriors as we got waitin' safely on the outside."

After a moment she stiffly responded, "Acknowledged."

Optimus cycled out air, concerned. Chromia had never been one to question battle plans solely for personal reasons. He was reminded of the petty arguments that had been splitting his forces on and off since right before the Ark crash. Deep down he worried that something on Earth was the cause.

Prowl stood rigid. "The previous plan to transport Thundercracker to the Ark for his new armor fitting remains, with Ratchet transferring to the Ark to complete the med bay. Once that is accomplished everyone else will be sent to their designated locations for the main operation. These are direct orders and there are to be no further objections."

"Acknowledged," Broadcast said, his optics dimming in thought.

"What about him?" Chromia pointed to the corner of the screen toward the hitherto silent Simmons. Prowl frowned and the two at Autobase could see he was more annoyed at the human than he had been at Chromia's protest.

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(c) 2008 S. Loweck. This work may not be copied, distributed, or reprinted without the author's permission. Transformers are copyright Hasbro/Paramount/Dreamworks.