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>> The Awakening
>> The Newbie
>> The Phoenix
>> The Arising

The Phoenix

Two months later

The sun had not yet risen above the glorious peak that was Mt. St. Hillary, yet there was activity in the corridors of the Ark. Autobots on early-morning patrols were stumbling out of their rooms, staggering down the halls to the rec room for a much-needed Energon-boost. Some were clutching their heads and groaning, a sad after-effect of last night’s celebration. They had just succeeded in taking control of a Decepticon stronghold; found deep within the storage cells were a few crates of high-grade. Naturally, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe took them all and passed a few around yesterday; of course, if someone wanted more, they’d have to pay the twins.

Prowl shook his head and sighed, passing the next hangover victim a cup of Energon and a small vial of Ratchet’s special oil.

“We missed you last night, Prowl,” a feminine voice said at his left shoulder. The analyst merely shrugged, shoving cup and vial into Cliffjumper’s stiff hands. Solarflare grinned, swinging her legs back and forth from where she perched on the countertop. “It was fun.”

When the last degenerate stumbled out with his drinks, Prowl turned around and laid his hands on the counter, looking at Solarflare sideways. “We’ve been over this, Solarflare,” he said tiredly. Of all the Autobots, Prowl never used her nickname. “And I’ve been over it with every mech in this facility: I do not imbibe.”

Rolling her optics, Solarflare reached out and flicked Prowl’s grey nose with a taloned finger. The black and white mech scowled but said nothing. “Neither do I, but I still had fun.”

Prowl turned around and leaned back against the counter. “I wouldn’t think prying Sunny off the wall counts as ‘fun’.”

Now it was the femme’s turn to shrug. “I didn’t mean to shoot him.”

Prowl gave her a sidelong glance. “No? Everyone here has wanted to shoot him on more than one occasion.”

“It was totally accidental. He should’ve known not to make me laugh so hard.”

“I thought you had full control over your weapons’ relays by now.”

Solarflare’s crest dipped in annoyance. So she’d had a rough start -- bashing unsuspecting mechs upside the head with her wings, in the chest, in the back … “I do,” she replied, a little perturbed by Prowl’s inference. She took a sip of Energon. “Haven’t you accidentally fired a rocket or something?”

“Not while laughing.”

The avian femme pounced on that tidbit of information like a falcon on a pigeon. “So, you have accidentally fired on someone?”

Prowl favored her another glance. “Not quite,” he admitted. “When I was newly-built, I tripped and fired a missile into the wall.”

“Then you shouldn’t be questioning my control.”

The black and white turned slowly to face her. “As far as I am concerned, Solarflare, you will always be ‘newly-built’ to me. You have work to do.” With that, he pushed himself up from the counter and began to walk out the door. Solarflare rumbled low in her vocalizer and gave him the finger behind his back.

“I saw that.”

So she lifted the other hand to mirror the first. Prowl merely continued on his way out.

Snorting, Solarflare picked up his discarded cup and lobbed it into the nearest bin. Her’s soon followed. Looking about the empty room, she braced her forearms on the countertop and pushed herself neatly off, landing without a sound. Strolling across the room, she slipped out into the hall and meandered over to the elevator. With a wave to Hoist as he hurried on by, she stepped into the elevator when it rang on her level. To her surprise, she had a companion: Optimus Prime.

“Mornin’,” she said cheerfully, looking out at the back of Mt. St. Hillary as the elevator zoomed up.

“Good morning,” the Autobot commander replied in turn. “I hear you all had a wild night. I wish I could have joined you.”

Solarflare grinned. “I think having Ratchet repair your transforming relays would be more important.”

Prime sighed with humor as he looked down at the only femme in his Earth army. “Rumor has it you shot Sunstreaker.”

Instantly, her shoulder-struts sagged. Had Prowl reported her? “Yeah,” she mumbled, “it was an accident. He made me laugh so hard my eye lasers discharged.”

To her surprise, Optimus chuckled. “So Jazz told me. Had to pry him off the wall?”

Solarflare looked up at her leader; Optimus was a paragon at times, she decided. But she smiled despite herself. “Left a dent I’m afraid.”

“I’ll send Grapple and Hoist down there later this evening.” The elevator chimed and the doors sluiced open. Optimus reached down and patted Solarflare on the shoulder-strut. “My stop.” And with that, he was gone, the elevator decidedly larger after the removal of his massive bulk.

The next floor was hers. Exiting the elevator, Solarflare took a left and stopped at the second door. A security camera in the corner whined and she waved to Red Alert before palming open the lock and stepping into her domain, the Communication Room. It wasn’t massive, like the bridge that housed Teletraan-1, but it was all hers. To her right was the comm unit, with its blank screen. A thin line ran out of one port on the left, which she used to interface with Teletraan. A few data pads and readers lay stacked neatly on a shelf that butted up against the far wall. Behind the comm unit was a small Energon dispenser.

Sliding into her chair, Solarflare reached for the line and pressed a small panel on the side of her neck. The door popped open and she inserted the line, at the same time powering the comm up. Cybertronian text scrolled past her optics, on the inside, not the outside. She internalized it all, filing it away in the back of her cortex. From another panel along the right side of her jaw, a slim microphone extended, curving around to her mouth. Reaching for a data pad with her left hand, she initiated her interface with Teletraan. Sliding the pad’s front into the corresponding slot, she tapped out a short succession of commands. Today’s duty roster instantly downloaded onto the pad and she pulled it out to set beside her.

“Solarflare to patrols. Respond, please.”

“Powerglide here!” “Hound reporting in.” “BAZOW! Warpath here, little BAM! lady.” “Tracks here.” “Smokescreen here.” “Skyfire here.” “Mirage here.” “Silverbolt reporting for the Aerialbots.”

“Good morning, gentlemen. I have a few changes of plan to report.”

Good-natured grumbling filtered over the comm-link. “Hound, you’re to extend your patrol over into Section-3H; Powerglide, Skyfire, you’re to do a flyover of the Decepticon stronghold we breached the other day.”

Powerglide rumbled. “I thought that was clear.”

“Prime thought it best to check it once more.”

“But there’s nothing left,” the red jet wheedled.

“Those are the orders, Powerglide. I need a minute-by-minute report as soon as you get there.”

“Fine,” he replied, resigned.

“That’s our little Flare, the slavemaster,” Skyfire chuckled.

She smiled to herself and began to scan the boards, keeping their comm-chatter in the back of her cortex as usual. If anything came up, she’d pick up on it instantly. Already the board was alive with requests; emergencies were picked up by Teletraan almost immediately, and most world leaders had a direct line to the supercomputer. Everything else was filtered through to the avian femme’s board. Solarflare didn’t mind it much; some days, though, she felt like a glorified telephone operator or an automaton whose only response was “I’m sorry, sir/ma’am, but we’re not the police.”

With a deep breath that filled her ventilators, she flicked the first switch and spoke into the mic along her jaw. “Communications, the Ark, Solarflare speaking. How may I help you?”


Mirage sighed happily when the peak of Mt. St. Hillary came into view. Hound plugged along beside him, as servo-weary as the spy was. Though tough and resilient, even the tracker had succumbed to the double-shift.

“I think I’m going to climb into an energy bath and sleep the night away,” Hound told him over their internal comm-link. “I haven’t felt this drained in vons.”

Mirage sent a wordless agreement along the line. Laboriously, he rolled his sensors up along the path in a sweeping arc, just to be sure. One never could tell with the Decepticons. As the Ark grew in size, a familiar shape accosted his sensors: perched above the great orange boosters that jutted out into the desert was Solarflare in avian mode. Her head was pointed straight towards them, following their movement as they trudged up the winding path. Mirage knew that she had seen them five miles off and had alerted the rest that they were coming in. Still, he was glad to see her after a long day. He and Hound passed beneath her and into the belly of the Ark; she would stay outside until the last one came in. It was a strange ritual, one that many had questioned until they began to anticipate seeing her there. It eased their Energon pumps to see a familiar face welcoming them home, washed away some of the grit and dirt that had accumulated on their sparks.

The spy and tracker transformed and walked the rest of the way up to the bridge where Prime would be waiting for their report. Optimus was sitting at Teletraan’s main console when they came in, idly flicking through Sky Spy’s tally of daily events. The commander turned in his chair as they entered.

“All clear, Prime,” Hound announced in his usual jaunty manner, despite his acute exhaustion.

“Mirage?”

“Hide nor stinky residue from the aft of a Seeker, chief,” came his reply. “We swept the area twice.”

Optimus leaned back and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Good. Perhaps we shall have that reprieve we’ve been waiting for.”

Hound tilted his head to the side, noting something was amiss. “You don’t look good, Prime. Are your relays functioning properly?”

Behind the mask, Optimus smiled wearily. “My relays have never been better, Hound. I’ve just spent the last couple of hours analyzing Decepticon attack patterns.”

Mirage and Hound chuckled. “They have patterns?” the spy asked with mock-incredulousness.

“Indeed they do,” Optimus replied, slipping back into the chair. “I hope that my calculations will provide us with a cursory warning system.” He slipped some more, bringing Hound and Mirage instantly to his side.

“Why don’t you rest, Prime?” Hound offered, looping his arm under Optimus’ left; Mirage took his place on Prime’s right. Together, the spy and tracker heaved their commander to his giant blue feet. Optimus dipped precariously to one side, and then stabilized.

“Perhaps you are right, Hound,” he said softly, wearily. They stood there a moment while Optimus’ internal gyroscope leveled out and he was able to stand unaided. Slowly, Mirage and Hound relaxed their grips and hovered expectantly as Optimus tottered out the door.

Hound sighed. “Suddenly, I’m not as tired as I was a click ago.”

“Agreed. Why don’t we go and see if Flare is still playing welcome wagon?”

The tracker grinned. “Unfortunately, I’m not that awake. I think I’d fall off the boosters if I tried to make the climb. You go on ahead -- I think I hear the sultry sounds of an energy bath calling my name.” He gave the spy a wave and slipped out of the bridge. Mirage lifted a black hand, mouth open to call him back and thought better of it. A puff of air slipped out of his vents and he looked at Teletraan’s screen. The supercomputer was still frozen on the last image Optimus had been looking at. Walking over, he cancelled the order and punched in a new command: instantly, the screen was filled with the exterior view of the Ark, specifically, the area above the boosters.

She was still there, inclining her head to Skyfire and Powerglide as they roared overhead. Mirage pulled up Optimus’ discarded chair and perched on the edge, laying his arms on the console. He punched up the zoom and was surprised to see her head turn slightly. How could she have heard that? It was her vision that was upgraded, not her aural tracts. A strange emotion flickered across the spy’s cortex as he watched her; suddenly, she was facing the camera, her glittering golden optics blinking as she stared into the lens.

“Red? Is that you? Dammit, stop staring at my ass.”

Mirage laughed in relief. He flicked a switch that lifted a small screen on the camera’s nose. “It’s only me, Flare.”

The eagle-like head drew back in surprise as she saw his face on the tiny screen, then she relaxed and chuckled. “Well, damn you too, Mirage. If you’re not too tired, wanna join me?”

“Of course,” he replied, if a little too eager. She winked at him and turned back around, pointedly flicking her blunt white tailfeathers down.

Mirage turned off the camera’s connection and rose. His Energon pump increased its beat imperceptibly in anticipation. It was such a strange reaction that he halted in the doorwell, laying his hand on the side. He turned his head back towards Teletraan, but the screen glowed baleful blue. Quickly, the spy ran through the spectrum, checking for anything within the immediate area that might have triggered the response. Negative … flickered across his inner optics.

Confused, he moved forward, taking the quickest route down to the main bay. Solarflare watched him amusedly as he scrabbled up the rock face. Transforming, she sat down on the edge of the outcropping and patted the spot on her left. “Not tired?” she asked, grinning.

“I’m always up for spending time with you,” he replied, taking the proffered place. It was the honest truth, too. “I haven’t see you much; you’re always holed up in that turbo-fox den of yours.”

“And you’re always out on patrol,” she countered, poking him in the side, purring in contentment.

“It won’t last long,” he told her, looking down at the desert rocks. “We usually have a period of intense activity before Megatron shuts down for a while to cook up some new masterful plot.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her knees, propping her chin between the spikes that jutted up from each kneecap. “I hope so. I’m getting tired of hearing grown mechs whine to me about adding to their patrols. I’d stop them if I could, but Prowl’s insistent.”

“He would be,” Mirage conceded, following her gaze.

There was silence between them for a while, then she said, “I think I need a hug.”

The spy’s head jerked up, looking at her with wide blue optics. Her vocalizer was muffled slightly by the way she was resting her head, but he heard her clearly. Hugs weren’t exclusive to humanity, but Transformers weren’t usually given to such displays of affection -- at least not the mechs and femmes he had run with. Solarflare’s shoulder-struts dipped low as she took his inaction for a rebuff and dug her bulky foot into the rubble. Realizing his mistake, Mirage slowly reached out and drew his arm around her shoulders. Her grey crest perked up and a small mewl of pleasure warbled up from her throat; she scooted closer and leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing softly.

“Thanks, I needed that.”

His fingers tightened on her shoulder, slipping down to her upper arm. Prowl might expect top performance from her, but not Mirage. Certainly not Optimus, who, despite his promise, had kept her out of the raid on the Decepticon stronghold. There was only so much she could do with her limited knowledge.

“Mirage?”

“Hm?”

“Are you ok? Your pump’s beating faster than usual.”

The spy slipped a little as he sat up, but that only brought her closer. “I --” He fished desperately for an answer. “I guess I haven’t cooled down yet.”

She lifted her head and reached across both their bodies to touch his throat with her fingertips. “You seem to be all right. Did you blow anything?” She started reaching for his chest-latches, but his hand came up and pushed her well-meaning digits away. Yesterday, he wouldn’t have minded, but not today.

“I’m fine, Flare. Primus-honest truth.” And he smiled wide to prove his point.

Her golden optics searched his before her hand came up and flicked his nose. With a quirking grin she settled herself back on his shoulder. “Better be.”

“I am, I am,” he affirmed, patting her upper arm gently. “You’re a den mother sometimes, Flare.”

A snicker issued from the pile of feathers tucked up against his side. “I’m a fraggin’ bird, Mirage. What do you expect?”

“Nothing less than sensational,” he teased back, reaching up to ruffle her crest. “Say, I have tomorrow off. We haven’t had target practice in a while.”

She looked up and grinned. “My target practice or yours?”

“Yours, of course.”

“Good. I’ll never be good enough to beat you.”

“With practice, little bird, with practice.”

And she swatted at him. Dodging the blow with practiced ease, he carefully extracted himself. “I hate to call it a night, Flare, but I have to recharge. I’m servo-weary.”

She mock-pouted, but stood up. “See you tomorrow then.” There was a faint click and her wings swung up, fanning out behind her. A soft whine filled the air as her boosters powered up; a moment later, she was winging her way above him and diving into the mouth of the volcano, out of sight.

Mirage shielded his optics, watching her depart. Once he was certain she was within the bowels, his shoulders slumped. His weariness from patrol combined with that of his internal struggle to maintain a collected façade left him with almost nothing. With a sigh, he shuffled over to the edge of the precipice and prayed to Primus that he made it down in one piece.


Mirage palmed open his door and stepped in, turning on the light and subsequently shutting the panel. He trudged slowly to his recharging berth, barely taking in the contents of the room as he passed them by. Every fibre of his metallic being ached, even more so after he had taken a jaunt down the rocky face of the mountain. Luckily, no one had seen him and he was able to save some face.

Pulling himself up onto the berth, he cast a weary gaze at the table where he kept a few holos from Cybertron. Reaching out, he pushed aside the ones showing him attending high-Cybertronian-society functions and picked up the one sitting way in the back. Holding it in both hands -- lest he drop it from sheer exhaustion -- the spy rubbed his thumbs along the edges reflectively. It wasn’t long ago that this holo had been taken: it was a rare group-shot of everyone standing before the Ark’s entrance. Even Spike, Sparkplug, Carly and Chip were there, perched on the shoulders of their favorite Autobot: Spike sitting on Bumblebee’s shoulders, Sparkplug with Ratchet, Carly with Ironhide and Chip with Sunstreaker. Mirage found himself standing next to Hound, a cool expression on his grey face while the scout grinned uncontrollably. In the front with the smaller Autobots was Solarflare, her smile as bright as Hound’s, leaning casually against Bluestreak.

A low rumble issued up from the depths of his vocalizer, shocking the spy. Shaking his head, he set the holo down and rummaged in his drawer. He pulled out a small projector and flicked it on, scrolling by the first few candid images from his past. Carefully, he studied the holos taken here on Earth, usually by Hound, who had taken up photography as one of his myriad hobbies. Everyone had a set of these, Hound made sure of that.

Mirage frowned slightly as he came to what had been the end of the slideshow; Hound must have uploaded more recently. There were holos of Spike and Bumblebee playing catch with the Dinobots, Sunny and Sides grinning like the fools they were as they worked punishment detail under the watchful optic of Prowl. Mirage passed over a mess of inane pictures before stopping on the ones Hound had taken of Solarflare: the avian femme was deliberately posing in front of a waterfall, hands behind her back, wings flared out, head tilted coyly to the side. The next showed her playing checkers with Trailbreaker; another, surprisingly enough, captured Solarflare shooting Sunstreaker in the shoulder with her eye lasers. A quiet chuckle left the spy’s lips as he gleefully remembered having to pry the prideful golden warrior off the wall with Skyfire, the only other warrior not completely plastered. In the fourth subsequent holo, Hound had caught he and Solarflare at target practice on the range. Solarflare was sighting along the line of her energy pistol while Mirage had his hands over hers, showing her the correct way to handle the weapon.

A band across his chestplate tightened abruptly as recalled the events from a moment before. They had been that close then, but it was a completely different mental scenario than what was present in his hands. On that day, they’d been friends; tonight, he had no idea what to think. Why, all of a sudden, was he being bombarded with strange emotions; what had he seen or thought of today that had shifted his perception of their relationship? Why did he suddenly want to strangle Bluestreak for an event that happened two months ago?

I’m just overly tired, he thought to himself. The justification eased the ban of tension around his chest and he set the holo projector on the table. Yes, tired. One too many double patrols.

Pulling his feet up, Mirage settled comfortably on his berth; his hand groped underneath for the power cord. Finding it, he plugged himself in, arching his back as energy instantly began to flow into his tired frame. With a contented sigh, the spy hooded his sky blue optics and slowly drifted offline.

An amorphous shape. Cry of an eagle.

Mirage looked up.

The sun blazed high overhead, burning through his protective coating. He felt the heat as acutely as if he had been one of flesh.

The eagle cried louder, fanning its great grey-white-black wings.

Solarflare.

“Flare!” he called out.

She came to him, stirring up a gusty breeze with her powerful pinions. Her feathered pinions. He reached for her, but his hand passed through her like water. Great golden eyes winking, she flew backwards, out of reach.

He ran towards her, all logical thought thrown by the wayside, caught up in the threads of dreamtime.

Then the eagle was gone. Solarflare stood before him, a grassy field stretching out for miles all around. He skid to a halt before her, panting. “Flare?”

She lifted a black hand and lay it on his chestplate, talons out. Slowly, she drew them down, the screech of metal on metal ringing in his aural tract. It was pleasant to him, unlike it was for humans. A shiver wracked his lean frame, sending his cortex buzzing.

“Flare.” He said her name like a caress, wanting more.

She stripped his armor away, piece by piece until he was protoform-bare. They lay strewn about the grass like a human child’s toys.

Her hand reached for him again, passed through him; it pulled back, holding his spark in her palm. She held it up to her face, the otherworldly glow highlighting her sharp cheeks, casting shadows where her optics were.

And ate it.

Mirage woke himself up with a howl. Flailing about, he knocked his hand on the night table, scrabbling for the light switch. Once the warm glow suffused his room, he leaned forward, arms wrapped around his legs, still plugged into the recharging berth. His cortex ached and he lifted one hand to press against the area under his left optic, hoping to ease the discomfort.

Where? Why?

He turned his head slowly to the night table, the contents of which were now lying scattered on his floor, their holographic lights dull. Reaching down, he picked up the projector, fiddling with it until the last image hovered above the base. He stared at it for a moment before groaning. Realization hit him hard in the gut, with more impact that any Decepticon blow. They were friends and they would stay friends -- no exhaustion-fueled dream would tell him otherwise.

Setting the projector back on the table, he stretched out and turned the light off. A tingle spread out along his chestplate, subtly reminding him of the offline events. In the dark, he ran his hand along his chest and drifted back into the peaceful tranquility of sleep.


“Hey, there’s Solarflare, Bumblebee. What’s she up to?”

The Minibot Beetle shrugged. “I dunno, let’s go find out.”

The best friends broke into a sprint, waving at the avian femme. Solarflare’s crest came up and she swiveled on the rock she was sitting on; a bemused smile lit her rose-colored lips as she watched them sluice to a stop before her. “Morning, boys. What mischief are you two up to today?”

Spike grinned back. “Us, Flare? Never.”

The femme’s right eye ridge quirked up in humor, but she said nothing. “We wanted to know what you were doing out here,” Bumblebee explained, looking around for a rock to park his skidplate on.

“Target practice,” she said simply.

Bumblebee and Spike exchanged questioning looks. “Target practice?” the teenager repeated. “I don’t see any targets.”

“You’re sitting on them.”

Heads turned to look behind them as Mirage came strolling up the rocky hill, a bulky cylindrical unit perched on his shoulder. With a grunt, the spy set the tube on the ground, reaching under it to pull out its tripod legs. “You two troublemakers wouldn’t know what we’ve been doing, since you’re constantly out gallivanting.” He straightened and winked at Solarflare, who covered her mouth and giggled at the pair’s outraged expressions.

“We don’t gallivant, Mirage,” Bumblebee said defensively, casting a glance at Spike.

“Yeah, we’re certainly not troublemakers, either.”

Mirage put his hands on his hips and regarded them seriously. “Really?”

Spike nodded so furiously that he threatened to knock his own head off. “Really.” Bumblebee echoed the sentiment.

Mirage studied them and looked over his shoulder at Solarflare, who was deriving great amusement from the out-play. “Well, I suppose not,” he conceded. “But I do remember that one time you came back from the video store --”

“Awr, Mirage, that was an accident!” Bumblebee interjected quickly before the spy could get any further along with the tale. Solarflare arched an interested eye ridge and leaned forward, never hearing this particular yarn. Mirage laughed, something that both Bumblebee had Spike had rarely had the opportunity to hear and turned back to preparing the device.

“Uhm, so, Mirage, what is this?” Desperate to keep his and Bumblebee’s less-savory excursions mum, Spike walked up to it and began peering at it from all possible angles.

“A cannon,” came his muffled reply as the lean spy bent over to connect a few cables. “Wheeljack cobbled it together for us.”

“You said these rocks were targets. You mean this thing shoots rocks?”

“Perceptive, Spike. Yes, it shoots rocks. We had it made to configure with her alt-mode. An Autobot must be able to fight effectively in both modes of operation.”

“Wow.” Spike walked around and peered into the cannon’s large barrel. “Can we watch?”

Mirage looked at him and then at Solarflare. “Let them stay,” she told him over a close internal-link. He frowned imperceptibly, annoyed to have this private moment intruded upon. When he hesitated, she inclined her head slightly and he resigned. “You can watch,” he told the two, who brightened. “But you’ll have to work as well. I want you to collect as many boulders as you can find and organize them by size.”

Emboldened by the honor Mirage had bestowed upon them, Bumblebee and Spike gratefully set out to complete the task. Scouring the edges of the hill, Bumblebee lifted his head and drew Spike close. “He wasn’t going to let us stay,” he told his human friend quietly.

Spike halted in trying to lift a large rock. “What? How do you know that?”

Bumblebee slid an optic in the others’ direction. “He hesitated. She spoke for us.”

Spike shook his head. “Flare didn’t say anything.”

The yellow Volkswagen heaved the rock Spike was vainly trying to lift as if it were a pebble and stuck it under his arm. “She did. She spoke to him over a tight link.” Spike stared at him blankly, so Bumblebee elaborated. “You know that we can communicate to each other over short distances using our internal comms; anything else we need devices for. We can also choose which persons receive said communication. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I felt the buzz in the air as she talked to him.” Bumblebee spread his unoccupied hand. “It’s like this: say you see someone in a phone booth; you know they’re talking, but the glass prevents you from hearing what they’re saying.”

Realization finally dawned on poor Spike. “Oh, okay! I get it now.” He looked at the ground a moment. “Gee, now I feel like we’re intruding.”

“Maybe, but I think he’ll forgive us. She’s happy, after all.”

Spike wrestled with a smaller rock half-embedded into the ground. “They’re close, aren’t they?” Bumblebee leaned over and used the edge of his foot to pry it loose for his friend.

“Very,” he agreed, glancing over his shoulder to watch Mirage make some technical gestures.

“And we’re sure they’re friends?”

Bumblebee stopped and stared. “You know, Brawn brought that up the other day. I think he said he was going to confront Mirage about it.”

Spike frowned. “Why?”

His friend shrugged. “I don’t know why. It’s probably just Brawn being Brawn. Anyway, let’s get these boulders back to Mirage and Flare. I wanna see what she can do.”

A respectable pile soon amassed itself at the base of the cannon. Mirage inspected it and called a halt to the collection. Grateful, Spike and Bumblebee took their seats to watch the practice. Solarflare transformed into her eagle-mode and rose into the air, hovering above the field. Mirage bent down and loaded a small rock into the receiving end of the cannon. It rolled into position and he pressed a small button on top. There was an explosion as the rock was propelled from the business end of the cannon, streaking out into the sky.

Instantly, Solarflare was on it, speeding away so quickly that she was a grey blur. Her great golden eyes lit up and the rock exploded from the force of her lasers.

As Mirage loaded a boulder into the cannon, he took the time to explain the process to the spectators: “The reason for the various sizes is to help her coordinate her different abilities. With the larger rocks, she’ll use her talons; the smaller ones require her to use her lasers.”

Spike leaned forward. “They’re representing missiles and Decepticons?”

Mirage rewarded him with a smile. “Exactly.” He depressed the button and the boulder roared away. Solarflare executed a double flip before crushing it into powder. Mirage frowned even as the other two cheered. “Powerglide taught her that one,” he grumbled, shaking his head and loading another rock. “I’ve been trying to break her of the habit.”

As the hour passed, Bumblebee and Spike were treated to the sight of Solarflare pulverizing almost every boulder Mirage managed to get the cannon to fire. Some she did miss, but more often than not, rock particles rained down upon the hill. Several times, her great black beak opened to emit a straight stream of fire.

When their store ran out, Mirage called a halt, waving the cavorting avian femme down. With reluctance, she cut her boosters and glided in, fanning her wings as she landed on a rocky outcropping nearby. Rousing what movable metallic feathers she had, Solarflare sighed with happiness. “120 out of 154,” she gleefully proclaimed.

“You counted?” Spike asked, eyes wide.

Solarflare lifted her head from where she was cleaning debris between her black talons. A very raptor-like behavior. “Always do. I like to keep track.”

“Profitable day, I would think,” Mirage said as he bent over to dismantle the cannon. He turned to Spike and Bumblebee. “Thanks for your help, guys. I appreciate it.” And he was off down the hill, the cannon on his shoulder.

“Where’s he going?” Spike asked as Solarflare bent back down to her talons.

“The shooting range.”

“And you’re not going?”

She looked up and a smile split her beaked face. “And watch him perfectly pierce the center of every target? Ha! Hell no. I’ll keep my pride, thank you.” She jerked her beak in the direction Mirage went. “That, and it’s totally boring. This is far more entertaining.” She chuckled, waving her wings. “And with that, gentlemen, I think I shall take my leave of you. Take care, I’ll see you around later.” The whine of her boosters split the air and she rose up off her perch, streaking away into the afternoon sky.

“Sometimes,” Bumblebee said to Spike as they made their way back to the Ark, “I think she got more bird inputted into her cortex than her human memories.”

***

“And where do you think you’re going?”

With avian grace, Solarflare spun on her heel and snugged herself up against the wall. Her brow plate drew down as she watched Prowl stroll up to her. “Out. Today’s my day off.”

Prowl drew a reader from subspace and handed it to her. “I’m afraid not, Solarflare. Prime wants you to partner Hound.”

Solarflare snatched the reader from the black and white’s hand, optics flicking over the lines of script furiously. Struts and crest slumping, she passed it back to Prowl. To her surprise, the analyst’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Solarflare, but buck up, it will ease in a few weeks.”

She arched a sardonic eye ridge. “Sympathy, Prowl?”

Awkwardly, the analyst reached out and patted her shoulder-strut. “We’re under a lot of stress, Solarflare. I apologize for my bluntness these past few weeks.”

Pushing herself off the wall, the avian femme gave him a soft smile and turned back the way she came. Hound would be waiting up at the bridge for briefing.

“Mirage?” She hoped he would be online by now. Poor thing, he had been run ragged the other day and had tried to put on an energized face, but she knew better. Indeed, she knew him better than anyone, probably himself.

“I saw the roster,” came his leaded reply. “Another time, Flare. Take care of yourself out there.”

Solarflare paused. There was something else in his tone -- she couldn’t quite discern what it was. However, now wasn’t the time to analyze the spy’s central processor. She had a job to do -- something that, for once, didn’t involve sitting at her comm station. The knowledge lifted her dampened spirits.

Controlling the bound in her step, Solarflare jogged onto the bridge. To her surprise, not just Hound and Optimus were there -- standing by Teletraan’s console was Wheeljack and Perceptor. “Solarflare reporting for duty,” she announced, giving Prime a salute.

“I apologize for the short notice, Solarflare,” Optimus began formally, “but the recent string of Decepticon attacks has us scrambling to keep up with their antics. By placing those on patrol in pairs, I hope to alleviate the number of Autobots coming back to base in need of serious repair. It might stretch us thin in some areas and leave others unlooked at, but it’s the best option we have.” Here Prime sighed. Solarflare could see that his once bright-blue optics were dim around the edges; he probably wasn’t recharging fully each night -- if at all.

“I understand, sir.”

“Good. Before you go, Wheeljack and Perceptor have something for you.”

She tilted her head to the side questioningly. “For me?”

Inventor and scientist stepped forward, the former holding a thin pad in his hand, almost like a reader. “While we were designing you, Flare,” Wheeljack began, “I toyed around with the idea of connecting your upgraded vision to Teletraan-1, for espionage purposes. But I dismissed it as being too much for your system. However, the more I thought about it, the more I had to test it out. So Perceptor and I built this snazzy little device.” He held out a thin microchip and a wire. “All you have to let us do is implant this chip in your cortex. Then, when you plug this wire into the port on your neck, whatever your optics sense will be transferred to this screen.”

She took the wire, pad and chip and looked at them. Then she looked at Perceptor. “You tested this?”

“Quite thoroughly,” the scientist replied. “You will not blow up, Solarflare.”

The area around her golden optics darkened as she blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Wheeljack waved the apology away. “No biggie. So, if you’ll just turn around …” He lifted a panel in the back of her head and took the chip, delicately interfacing it with her glowing cortex. “There. Try it.”

She reached up, feeling the back of her head. It was something she still hadn’t gotten used to -- this ability to have someone mess around in her “brain” and not have to go under anesthesia. Taking the wire, she opened the port door and slid it in. Somewhere in the back of her head, she felt the microchip flare to life; instantly it was processed by her cortex and the knowledge of how to access it came to her. Sliding the opposite end of the wire into the pad, she found herself looking at herself, looking at herself, ad infinitum. Blinking furiously, she shut the connection and removed the wire.

“Not bad,” she commented. “No wireless connection?”

“Oh, there is,” said Perceptor, taking the pad from her and showing her a switch in the back. “But it drains the power source more quickly.”

“Ah.” She took the pad back and opened a panel in the outside of her right thigh, sliding it home. “Anything else, sir?”

Prime shook his head. “You and Hound will cover Sectors 3A through 5D. Experiment with that viewer when you have the chance. If, by chance, you happen upon Decepticon activity, get your axels out of there quickly.”

“Understood,” she and Hound chorused.

“Dismissed.”

Stepping out into the hall with Hound, Solarflare reached down and patted the holster attached to her hip. Hound, ever-perceptive, grinned. “Lost something?”

Another light blush lit her white cheeks. “Actually, no, just making sure I still have a gun.”

“Ah, that’s right. This is your first patrol.”

“Yes.” Flipping the latch, she drew the slim, lightweight energy pistol and held it up to her optics. She tried to remember what Mirage had told her about weaponry maintenance and cursed herself for not keeping up with a toned-down version of his regimen.

Hound plucked the pistol from her hands and sighted it. “Looks good enough to me. Hopefully you won’t have to use it.” He handed it back to her and she tucked it away in its compartment.

There was silence between them as they exited the Ark and transformed, she following him high above as the scout wound his way down the rocky terrain. Letting part of her cortex sweep the area with her enhanced vision, Solarflare thought about what Hound had said: Hopefully you won’t have to use it. Was she really prepared for this? Could she live up to Prowl’s and Powerglide’s and Mirage’s and everyone else’s expectations? For all her excellence at the Comm board, she was still an unknown factor on the field. It was something she worried at occasionally, when she saw them trudging back from battle -- battered, broken, steaming, smoking. Carrying each other, supporting those with battered limbs. No one said anything to her about Prime keeping her out of battle, but she knew deep down that they questioned their leader’s decision. She was good at what she did, they acknowledged that, but what they wanted the most was to see her out there with them, as Gears had not-so-subtly told her one day.

Maybe … maybe today, she’d become one of them, fully. That’s all she really wanted, now that she had her human life violently ripped out of her hands. She wore the symbol, but had she earned it? No, not really. She’d be the first to admit it.

“Flare? Solarflare?”

With a jolt, she realized that she’d let her concentration slip. Looking down, she saw that she’d left Hound standing in the middle of the road, hands on his hips. Pulling a tight curve, she flew back to him, transforming. “Sorry, Hound. I -- lost myself.”

“Something bugging you, Flare? That’s unlike you.”

Her crest slid back, struts slumping. She could never control that. Quietly, she laid her concerns at the scout’s feet. Hound studied her carefully before answering. “Gears can go slag himself,” he told her, startling her with his use of profanity. “Of course, Prime hasn’t given you much of a chance to prove yourself in that area, but I understand where he’s coming from.”

“Because of how I came to be this?” she asked, gesturing to her metal body.

Hound nodded. “Exactly. He’s spoken to a few of us about this. Prime takes a lot to heart, more than he lets on. In some strange, convoluted way, he sees himself partly responsible for what happened to you.”

Her mouth gaped. “He had nothing to do with it! It was that fraggin’ Ravage!”

The scout held up a finger. “Yes, but we also saw what was happening to you before that.” He smiled slightly. “Of course, Mirage stalking you didn’t help much.”

She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why me. Why me and not Spike or Sparkplug or Carly or Chip? They’ve been around a lot longer than me, and here I am, an Autobot with a human mind. A strange, mixed up human-bird mind.”

Hound spread his hands. “Why any of us? That’s the universal question. But you’re right; it could have been any of them, but it’s you. But think of it this way: could any of them have done what you have? Do you really think they could have become as good an Autobot as you?”

“Maybe Chip,” she mumbled, running a hand over the wing on the opposite arm.

He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently until her head came up. “Solarflare, Alina, do not misjudge your worth among us. We’re family here, remember that.”

“Family,” she repeated slowly.

“Yes, family,” he assured, squeezing her shoulder struts in an affirming gesture. “Besides, you’re the only one who has the twins eating out of her hand.”

“They like me for some reason,” she said softly, looking to the side. Hound reached out and drew her face back to look at him.

“We all do, remember that. Now, let’s get going, we’re burning daylight.” He quirked a brow ridge and stepped back, transforming into his Jeep mode. Without looking back, he tore off down the road, leaving her there a moment, filing away what he said.

In a chest that contained a vessel that pumped Energon and mechfluid throughout her metallic system, that entity known as “heart” lifted. Throwing her arms wide, Solarflare transformed into her great eagle mode -- her Phoenix-mode.


A soft breeze flitted over her metallic nares, bringing with it the scents of impending autumn. Mixed in were the emissions from Hound’s exhaust and her own boosters. Autumn. Was it almost a year that she’d had her life turned upside down? Could time have passed that quickly? How strangely the world works, she thought to herself.

“Almost home,” Hound called up to her. “You did well out there. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks! I’m just glad the unit didn’t blow my head off. I don’t care if Perceptor vouched for it or not!”

Hound chuckled deeply. “That makes two of us. Wouldn’t make me look any good if I had to drag your feathered carcass into medbay.”

Solarflare opened her beak to let a small stream of fire roast Hound’s tailgate when the air suddenly began to vibrate. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as it bent and wavered, discharging the familiar shape of a Decepticon Seeker: Skywarp.

Several things happened at once: Solarflare screeched, Hound’s radar went wild, and Skywarp opened fire. Laser bullets screamed past her, thudding into the rocky road on either side of Hound. Instinct took over and she banked to the side, rolling like mad.

“RUN!”

The command burst into her brain. NO! FIGHT! SLAY! roared the bird of prey in the back of her mind, that very same bird that was telling her to pull her pinions in and dive to avoid the steady stream of missile fire.

Skywarp blew past her, clipping one of the spines that rose from the back of her neck, sending her into an uncontrollable roll. The world flashed by in a spinning pinwheel, colors mixing and meshing as a kaleidoscope does. Energon pump hammering in her chest, Solarflare tried desperately to control her momentum, but she had been hit at such an angle that she just kept spinning. The gyration kept her wings in and her boosters would only make her spin faster.

In a flash of lucidity, she noticed that she didn’t feel nauseated, just dizzy.

And then she hit the back of Hound.

Metal bent, seats broke as she crashed on top of the scout and sent them both rolling further down the rocky road. The mad gyrations finally stopped as they smashed head-first into a boulder. Pain exploded into her cortex, forcing her beak open in a harsh cry that resonated for miles. Hound groaned, metal grating on metal as he transformed and returned fire.

“Get up!” he shouted back at her, dodging the missile fire Skywarp was raining upon them.

Solarflare moaned, willing her cortex to make her legs move. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to get up, but it was so damned HARD right now. Every single one of her neuros was on fire; internal diagnostics told her that mechfluid leaked from several cuts on her neck and lower legs.

“GET UP!”

Servos reacted, swung her body back up onto her taloned feet. High above her head, the rock exploded, driving several fragments into her joints. The force of the blast blew her back off her feet, sending her sprawling behind Hound. Painfully, Solarflare transformed, grabbing the hand Hound stuck out behind him. Hauling her up to his side, he let her go, not watching as she swayed on her feet until her internal gyroscope kicked in, repairs underway.

“Take cover!” he ordered, still firing at Skywarp’s circling form.

“But Optimus said to run!”

“We’re trapped! We can’t run!” he shouted back, urging her into a jog as he covered them.

And then she saw the other two Seekers: -- Thundercracker and Starscream. And they were laughing.

Solarflare ran with all her might, down into a gulley overshadowed by a high plateau. She didn’t even look back; rather, she heard Hound slide in behind her. The Seekers stopped their carrion-like motions and settled on the plateau, transforming. Starscream put his hands on his hips, ever-cocky. “And who is this?” he sneered, calling down to them. “A female Autobot?”

Thundercracker sniggered. “I think we interrupted their rendezvous, Screamer.”

“Indeed, Thundercracker. Too bad Megatron will want her pretty little hide. She’d make a nice pet.”

Rage boiled deep within Solarflare’s chest cavity. Mechfluid burned hot in her tubular veins; she leaned forward, gripping the rocky face with her talons, hard enough to punch holes in the age-old surface. All the tales she’d heard about Starscream’s arrogance, his posturing -- they were all true. And while she had studied the specifics of the enemy, nothing she’d read could have prepared her for what lay in front of her very optics.

Skywarp and Thundercracker saw her lean forward, expression savage. The already-sharp planes of her face were enhanced, making her seem even more avian than before. And they burst out into raucous laughter. “Looks like you made her mad, Starscream,” Skywarp sniggered, pointing.

Starscream snorted and gestured. “At least I’ll have a bit of sport with her first.”

“I don’t think so!” she howled back and opened up the channels behind her optics. Twin laser beams exploded from the centers of her optics, striking Starscream full in the chest. He staggered back into the arms of Thundercracker and Skywarp; almost instantly, he was up, snarling with rage.

“You impetuous Autobot! You’ll pay for that!” And opened fire.

Distantly, Solarflare heard Hound talking into his communicator, calling for backup. But the awareness of her surroundings was fading, fading until all she saw was the enemy. With a single-mindedness that she usually reserved for her Communications job, Solarflare withdrew her pistol with her right hand and returned fire.

Rock exploded to her left and right, sending fragments careening into her face. But she shook them off, sensors not even registering the pain they obviously should have caused her. All she saw, all she cared to see, were the three Seekers upon the plateau.

In the midst of the firefight, Solarflare stepped back. When questioned about this later, she could not remember what had prompted her to take to the sky again. Truthfully, she didn’t even remember getting up there in the first place. It seemed as if the eagle that was part of her make-up had decided not to hide anymore, that her best chance of getting out in one functioning piece lay up in the air.

Solarflare ran along the gulley, dodging bullets her optics didn’t even see. A missile thudded to her left and she leapt into the air, limbs torquing furiously as she transformed. The eagle in her mechfluid screamed joyously as she threw her boosters into full, roaring into the sky.

Higher and higher she climbed, until no one on the ground could see her unless they possessed her eyesight. And there she stayed, circling, watching, and waiting.

No longer human, not fully robotic either. Something completely different. And she would let these Decepticons, comrades of the one who had stolen her life from her, know it.

So completely entwined in her personal world was Solarflare that she wasn’t even aware that her own comrades had come to her and Hound’s aid. She gauged the scene carefully and when the moment was exactly right, she let loose the loudest, most aural-piercing screech her mechanical throat could utter.

And dived.

Faster and faster she flew, throwing every available inch of power she had in her body into her boosters, making them burn so hot the flame they threw glowed pure white. At the very last moment, she angled her body back and thrust out her talons, striking Starscream full in the back. The force of her blow catapulted them off the plateau, out over the gulley and down into a ravine.

Down they tumbled, she bound to his back like a falcon on a pigeon; the sheer momentum drove her talons deeper into his trilithium plating. When they at last rolled to a stop, she didn’t wait for him to move first. Pinning him to the ground, she began ripping at his back, tearing strip after strip of plating and spitting it out. Had she been more aware, she would have heard Starscream, pride of the Cybertronian War Academy, howling at the top of his vocalizer in complete and utter pain.

But there was one voice she would always hear: Mirage’s.

For a millisecond, she paused; her head came up a fraction.

And it was the biggest mistake she’d ever make. Starscream’s left arm came up and savagely made contact with the side of her head. Taken completely by surprise, all lucidity returned in a dizzying flurry. Solarflare staggered backwards, bating in an effort to stay upright.

Before she fell over, she and Starscream made optic-contact. The Seeker’s face was twisted into a mask of intense hatred; he lifted his arm and fired a barrage of energy missiles into her unprotected chest -- at close range.

Each one drove her thick chestplate in further, closer and closer to her Energon pump and her precious spark. Each one drove her back, flying across the ravine and gulley until her back made contact with the base of the plateau. Her back snapped from the sheer force and she fell forward, body crumpling pitifully.

“No one uses Starscream for a pecking board!” Starscream shouted, starting to move towards her inert body.

“No!” Mirage cried out, starting to run forward.

A blast from a laser rifle cut the air between the spy and his target. Optimus stood tall and mighty on the plateau’s edge; smoke curled from the muzzle of his rifle. The business ends of Autobot guns were all pointing at Starscream’s head. “Give it up Starscream. Your friends have deserted you!” Optimus declared.

The Seeker commander stood up high, trying to belay his obvious disadvantage with pure arrogance. Giving a derisory laugh, he pointed to where Solarflare’s body lay smoldering. “Forget them! I am twice the warrior they are! I see you have a new toy, Optimus Prime. Now you don’t!” With a massive wrench, Starscream transformed, shooting skyward in a wide arc. “Make no mistake, no one makes a fool out of Starscream!” And he opened fire on the plateau’s base, bringing a load of slag directly on top of Solarflare.

As the plateau shook and came loose, the others were too busy trying not to fall in that they were unable to reciprocate. Heedless of his own physical safety, Mirage slid down the short slope to where Solarflare lay buried under a ton of rubble. Everything about the scenario brought back the memories of watching Sideswipe digging her human body out from under the library ceiling.

The Autobots toiled relentlessly, shifting rock and slag in volumes. When at last they uncovered the avian femme’s battered body, she was curled up into a fetal position, wings over her head. Somewhere in her pain-crazed cortex, she heard them. Dimly-glowing optics opened, thin cracks wrecking her vision. She was going to die again, fate had decreed it. She wasn’t supposed to be alive; Death wouldn’t be cheated again. Nothing moved, she could barely process information. Slipping in and out of consciousness, she almost didn’t register Optimus’ great blue hands reaching down and lifting her from her tomb.

“All gone?” she croaked.

The Autobot leader was clearly disturbed. “Affirmative,” was all he could manage. Her optics lit up briefly and she slid gratefully offline.

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