Is your love strong enough,
Like a rock in the sea.
Am I asking too much?
Is your love strong enough?
“Is Your Love Strong Enough?” – Brian Ferry
 

 Raven bolted up the stairs two at a time, juggling helmet and cape into place.  “Why didn’t someone tell me this was coming off?” she asked, voice tinged with irritation.

 Velocity followed one step behind her.  “It’s an unannounced arrival,” she explained, hustling to keep up.

 “Even if it’s not official I should have been informed.”  Raven paused on a landing to deal with her trappings.

 “It’s not that it’s not official.  It’s completely unannounced.  Optimus Prime said he had no idea about the visitor.”

 Raven studied the younger femme.  “You are kidding, right?  We’re not letting some completely unknown person in here, are we?  Kup is going to blow a fuse.”

 “Optimus said whoever it is has the communicator codes you gave Sirius.”  Her optics looked hopeful.  “Do you think it could be him?”

 “Optimus Prime would probably recognize Sirius’ voice, Velocity.”  She snorted in irritation.  “I didn’t arrange for that brother of yours to have secure codes only to have him hand them out as free passes into Iacon for everyone he meets.”  She finished pinning on her cape and adjusted it over her folded wings.  “Let’s get moving.”  She resumed her climb up the last flight of stairs, Velocity close behind.

 They burst out onto the tarmac as the small ship hovered over the landing pad, joining Razorsharp and Rodimus, catching disapproving glares from the pair.

 “Sorry,” Raven murmured, stepping into place between them.  “I wasn’t exactly prepared to receive completely unexpected visitors.”

 Rodimus leveled a look at her.  “You’re getting a smart mouth, you know that?”

 “Talented, too, or so I heard,” she retorted.  “Wonder where I got that.”

 Razorsharp snorted in derision.  “Can you two hold the mating rituals sometime when I’m somewhere else?”

 Raven looked at herself, then Rodimus.  “It’s not a mating ritual yet.  Everyone’s still dressed.”

 “We could fix that,” Rodimus suggested.

 “Shut up,” Razorsharp demanded.  “Shut up!  I’m surprised you two could stop bickering long enough to have children.”

 “Who says we stopped bickering?” Rodimus asked, and Raven leaned into him hard, forcing him to work to maintain his balance.

 “That is so much more than I ever wanted to know,” Razor murmured as the shuttle finally set down.

 Rodimus was instantly all business.  “Show time, folks.”  He looked over to Velocity, who hovered at his right shoulder.  “You ready?”

 She nodded.  “Whenever you are, Rodimus Prime.”

 He stepped out and Velocity followed, her hand close to the grip of her blaster.

 “I hate this part,” Raven said softly.  “I hate watching him walk out there and not being able to stand between him and the rest of the universe.”

 “I hate believing that my baby is old enough to be his line of defense,” Razorsharp responded.  “We seem to have a lot in life to hate.”

 “A lot to love, too,”  Raven watched the pair ahead of them longingly.  “Let’s go,” she said suddenly.  “I’m Rodimus Prime’s mate.  It’s appropriate for me to greet guests of Iacon with him.”

 “And who exactly am I to be, then?” Razorsharp asked, following.

 “My bodyguard.”

 They had almost caught up to Rodimus when the ship’s portal opened, and the three femmes were shocked, frozen at the sight of the figure in the opening.

 “Oh, Primus!” Razor gasped.

 “It can’t be…” Raven breathed.

 Velocity looked from the mech on the ship to her mother.  “Maman, is that…?”

 “No, child,” her mother snapped.  “Say nothing.”

 Rodimus had moved forward without them, completely unaware that his entourage had stopped.  He positioned himself at the bottom of the boarding ramp and looked up.  “Welcome to Iacon.  My name is Rodimus Prime, and I greet you in the name of the Autobot Council.”

 “Fancy name for poker night with Optimus, Magnus, Kup and Springer,” Raven whispered.

 “Not now,” Razor whispered hoarsely.  “We have to find out if he’s…”

 “I know.”  Raven twitched her cape into line.  “Let’s do this.”

 The tall mech, a Seeker in form, bore such a strong resemblance to the late Governor Straxus that the femmes approached him cautiously, each lost in a storm of emotions, Razorsharp recalling the beloved lord who had cast her out, Velocity the father she hardly remembered, and Raven the general who had lifted her family from obscurity to the glory of the Arena.

 They were close enough to see that the Seeker was a dark maroon red and bore a black Decepticon sigil on his chestplate, but he seemed to be chatting affably enough with Rodimus.

 The Autobot turned  as they drew near.  “About time.  I was starting to think I’d have to bore our guest with small talk for a cycle.  Narali Morphaeus, may I present my mate, Lieutenant Raven, Diplomatic Security Officer.”

 Raven brought her hand to her chest and dipped her head in a Decepticon gesture of respect.  “I am honored, Narali Morphaeus.  Welcome to Cybertron.”

 Morphaeus returned the gesture.  “I thank you for your welcome, Lieutenant.  It is I who am honored.”

 “This is the Lady Razorsharp,” Rodimus continued, “Chief Decepticon Archivist.”

 “I am gratified to be able to meet you, Lady.”  He gathered her hands up and brought them to his lips, kissing the backs of them gently.  “Your son’s description did not do you justice.”

 Razorsharp inclined her head coolly.  “I hope I live up to what you expect.”

 Rodimus steered Velocity forward.  “And this is Lady Razorsharp’s daughter, Velocity, who serves as my guard on occasion.”

 “Greetings, Narali Morphaeus.  I hope your stay on Cybertron is a pleasant one.”

 “Thank you, Lady.  Allow me to offer you my assurances that when I last saw your brother and sister, they were both well.”

 “Thank you, sir,” she replied, glowing from his use of the honorific.  “Your concern is very much appreciated.”

 Raven stepped forward, attracting Morphaeus’ attention.  “I hope you will forgive my asking, sir, but my duties require it.  What is your business on Cybertron?”

 “I have come to put a petition before Optimus Prime.  I hope this is acceptable?”

 Raven was almost certain what the answer would be, but she deferred to Rod anyway.  “Rodimus Prime?”

 He appeared to consider it, then nodded slowly.  “I will speak to Optimus about it.  Unless he is exceptionally busy, I imagine he will see you in the next few days.  In the meantime, I hope you will be our guest here in Iacon.”

 “Thank you, Rodimus Prime.  Your offer is most generous, and I will be happy to accept.”

 Rodimus looked over at Raven, and she nodded and turned to Velocity.  “Velocity, please escort Narali Morphaeus to suitable guest quarters and be certain he has everything he requires.”  She turned back to Morphaeus.  “I hope you will be comfortable, sir.  Your ship will be moved to a hanger berth, and you need only ask and it will be brought out.  I must ask, however, do you have any hazardous cargo aboard?”

 “I have only my personal items aboard in cargo,” he assured her.

 “Thank you.  We’ll be in touch about your request as soon as possible.  Alternately, you can call the Diplomatic Security Office any time if you require anything.”

 “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

 “You are welcome, Narali Morphaeus.  Go ahead and see that our guest in comfortable, Velocity.”

 “Yes, Lieutenant.”  The femme nodded.  “If you would come this way, sir.”

 Raven waited until the femme and her charge were safely through the door, then moved over to Razorsharp.  “Well?” she demanded.

 The ‘Con was in another world.  “They are very similar,” she said at last.

 “Closer to identical, I’d say.”

 “There are differences,” Razor asserted.  “Some are more subtle than others.”

 “Well, you would know.  You were married to him, after all.”

 Razorsharp rounded on the other femme.  “And what does that mean?” she snapped in a voice like ice.

 Raven wasn’t cowed.  “Exactly what it sounds like.  I only saw him rarely, either on formal occasions or at the Arena.  I’m saying that to the casual acquaintance, they are nearly identical.  Color is the only clue.”

 Razor appeared to consider for a moment, then discard the idea of being offended.  “The mannerism are slightly different,” she observed, “and his personality seems much more diffident.”

 Rodimus had wisely stayed silent during the tense exchange, and he breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared to blow over.  “Who exactly are we talking about, ladies?”

 Raven looked at Razorsharp, but when the Deceptifemme refused to speak, she finally answered.  “Straxus.”

 Rod’s head snapped in the direction of the door as if he would go after the mech.  “You mean that was…?”

 “No,” Raven said quickly.  “We mean that the Narali bears a strong resemblance to Straxus.”

 “How strong?”

 “Morphaeus could be his father,” she offered.

 “The Governor’s father died many vorns ago, before the War.”  Razorsharp turned glittering optics on Rodimus.  “He was cut down in an ally by drunken Autobots.  The Governor’s mother had already suffered the same fate.”

 “I could name a lot of Autobots who suffered the same at Decepticon hands,” Rod growled ominously.

 Raven shoved her way between them before the situation could get any worse.  “A round of ‘Your Sins Are Worse Than My Sins’ is not going to help right now.  Let’s just agree that the Narali looks enough like Straxus to be related to him.  We know he had…has…we know about Lady Thalia.  Did Straxus even mention other relatives?”

 “Only his late parents, and Soundwave, who was his adopted brother.  And his nephews, Lady Thalia’s children,” Razorsharp explained.

 “So he might be some unknown relative of Straxus’,” Raven reasoned.

 “Why don’t you just ask him?”

 The femmes turned to look at him, then exchanged looks of silent communication.

 “Rod, you wouldn’t walk into Sky Crag or New Polyhex and announce yourself as the Heir to the Matrix,” Raven offered.

 “I wouldn’t have to.”

 “And you have to live with that ego,” Razor quipped with a raised eyebrow.

 Raven couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth from twitching up in a tight smile.  “I kind of like it,” she offered with a shrug.

 “Well, I’m taking my ego and going inside.  It’s getting cold out here, and this wind isn’t helping.  I’ll bring up the possible relationship with Optimus when I fill him in.  And before I forget, is that ‘Narali’ a title?”

 Raven nodded.  “It means ‘Candidate.’”

 “’First Candidate,’” Razorsharp supplied.

 “So wherever he’s from, he’s in the running for something,” Rodimus clarified.

 “And likely to win,” Razor added.

 Rod nodded.  “Okay.”  He looked at Raven.  “I’ll see you later.”  He touched her cheek, warming it in the cooling air, then strode toward the door and was gone.

 Razorsharp stared at the door for a long moment.  “You like it?”

 Raven beamed and nodded.  “Very much.”

 Razor sighed.  “Autobots.”
 

 Optimus scanned the report Rodimus had quickly thrown together.  “So.  Narali Morphaeus.  First Candidate, huh?”

 Rod nodded.  “So Razorsharp said.  I couldn’t get much on his planet of Drolma III, though.  Just its location.”

 “Which is?”

 “Near Cybertron’s original orbit,” Rodimus said with a lifted eyebrow.  “And it would seem to be populated by Decepticons.”

 “And he came in using the codes Raven gave to Sirius.  A show of good faith, you think?”

 Rodimus shrugged.  “He came by himself, Optimus.  He’s been honest and cooperative.  And he’s obviously spoken to the kid.  Maybe he wants peace.”

 “Maybe he’s on a suicide mission,” Optimus said dourly.  “Get me some more information on Drolma III.  And I want to know more about this First Candidate business; what he’s running for and why, and what it could mean to us.”  The Autobot leader checked his chronometer.  “This same time tomorrow.  Don’t worry about elegant, just get me the details.  You have all that?”  Rodimus nodded, and Optimus closed the preliminary file.  “Dismissed, then.”

 Rodimus nodded and stepped out, only to find Raven waiting in the hall.  Seeing her there, he beamed.  “Hey, you,” he said, reaching for her.  “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until later.”

 She pushed away from the wall and let his arm wrap around her waist.  “Only if I didn’t see you first.”  She matched her pace to his, their long strides quickly covering ground.  “So what’s the verdict for Morphaeus?”

 “He’s going to get his audience, probably the day after tomorrow.  Do you know anything about a planet called Drolma III?”

 “It was a colony world, back before the War,” she replied.  “Strictly provincial.  Anybody who was anybody lived on Cybertron, so it wasn’t a very popular destination.”

 “A Cybertronian Colony?  Why can’t I find more in the databases then?”

 Raven offered him a look very close to one of supercilious Decepticon amusement.  “Because, my dear, it is, or was, a Decepticon colony world.  Political stuff for the most part.”

 “War protesters, I suppose.  ‘Cons who wanted to work with the Autobots instead of against them.  Those who wanted peace,” he sighed.

 “Your finely tuned Autobot prejudices are showing, Rodimus.  Yes, they were dissidents and demonstrators and protesters.  There was no place in the Empire for non-conformists.”  She sighed.  “It’s hard for me to explain to you how harsh life was in the Decepticon territories.  My father worked two assignments, laboring more cycles than he was at home, vorn after vorn to provide for us.  My mother pinched credits transparent to cover expenses and provide us the rare little luxury.  When my brother went to the Arena, he sent home every credit he could spare so I could have more than the essentials.  My father was weak by then, not able to work as much.  I did the same once I started earning at Tournament.”  She was silent a moment, lost in recollections.

 Rodimus, sensing her distraction from the present, steered her into their quarters.  He led her to the sofa and let her sit.  “What was your home like?” he asked, sinking down next to her.

 She chuckled.  “Tiny.  We had three rooms that were each about the size of my office, and we shared a cleansing room with the other tenants on our floor.  My brother and I shared a room until he left, my parents had a room, and there was a common area.”  She looked around the spacious apartment occupied only by herself, Rodimus and their children, with separate areas for meal preparation, eating, and entertaining, as well as recharge chambers and a generous bath.  “Four or five families would be divided between apartments in perhaps twice this space.  And many families were larger than ours, with three or four generations together.”  She shook her head in wonder.  “I joined the Armada because I wanted this; more space and opportunity for my children.  I didn’t really think I’d have to die to get it.”

 “No more talk about that,” Rodimus said firmly.  “It only gets you more upset every time.”  He rose from his place and scooped her up before she could protest.  “You’re going to get some rest, and the I’m going to get the kids from primary care and take them over to Optimus and Elita’s for the night.  You need a break.”  Her mumbled protest was unintelligible as he tucked her into the recharge berth and he ignored it.  “You’d better still be here when I get back, or I’ll have to lock out your codes for a week and force you to rest.”  He unlatched her helmet and pulled it off, smiling as she rolled over and pulled the blanket half-over her head.  It certainly didn’t seem like she would be going anywhere.

 By the time he returned, Raven had managed to wiggle out of her armor and push it off the berth and into an untidy heap on the floor.  He collected it and placed it neatly into the storage rack along with his own, freed up a corner of the berth drapes Raven had cocooned herself in, and curled himself around her sleeping form.  Within minutes, he was asleep.
 

 The dream was the first clue.
 

 “No you don’t, Megatron!”

 He put all his strength into a flying tackle, launching himself at the treacherous Decepticon leader.  I’ve got to get that pistol out of his hand, no matter what!  he thought desperately, grabbing for the contraband weapon.

 Like it always did, it went from bad to worse before his optics.  He watched his younger self struggle with someone whose desperate fight had come down to this single battle.  The fight he never could have won, the sick vertigo as he realized Optimus would die despite his best intentions, it all came rushing back, and he was unable to stop it.  “Nooooo!” he screamed as Optimus, his plating aflame, hit the ground like a lifeless doll.
 

 “Optimus!”

 Gasping, Rodimus Prime jolted out of a sound recharge, shaking the berth enough to wake the femme sleeping next to him.

 “Mmm.  Rod?”  Raven turned over and stared at her mate, growing concerned when she put a hand on his unarmored shoulder and it came away soaking wet.  “Blessed Rhyah, you’re soaked.  Lights,” she called, and the room was immediately illuminated.  “You had the dream again,” she mused, recognizing the wild look in his sky-blue optics.  “Your coolant system can’t keep up with your thermostat.  That always happens when you have that dream.”

 His respirations finally back to normal, Rodimus laid back, exhausted.  “You’re right.  It was Autobot City again.”  He shook his head to clear it, feeling the dream sink back to where it was buried deep in his processors.  “Something’s going to happen,” he said ominously, staring at the ceiling.

 Raven frowned.  “Like what?”

 Her mate kept his optics fixed on the metal plates above the berth.  “I don’t know, but something always happens when I have that dream.  I had it before we found Optimus at the mausoleum, and I had it before Marissa Fairborn and her team brought him back again, before the hate plague.”

 “That doesn’t mean anything,” Raven said, trying to get comfortable again.  “Optimus is fine now.”  She kissed him gently.  “Go back to sleep.”

 “Maybe you’re right,” Rodimus murmured, pulling her into the circle of his arms.  “Maybe it was just a dream.”  He buried his nose in the short tight curls of her dark hair and tried to push the sense of foreboding far enough away to rest.
 
 

 There were times when the Archives could be stifling, but today, Razorsharp took great pride in their peace and sense of order.  Here in the Decepticon area, she reigned supreme; translating, arranging, bringing order to chaos.  From here, she could change perceptions about Decepticons one intellect at a time, explaining the reasoning behind what the Decepticons had done eons ago.

 “Can I bother you a moment, Razorsharp?”

 Razor looked up to see Rodimus leaning against the door jamb.  “You seem to have a special talent for it, Rodimus Prime.  But since Raven and I are friends, I will forgive you for it.”  Her smile was pure Decepticon, amused at achieving verbal victory over an opponent.  “How can I help you?”

 Rodimus let the dig slide.  “I need everything you have about Drolma III.  Optimus wants to know what the deal is before he talks to Nairobi Morpheus.”

 ”Narali Morphaeus,” Razor corrected.  She turned her chair to face a terminal and started it searching databases.  “Do you want the whole system, or just the one planet?” she asked after a moment.

 “There’s a whole system?  Sure, especially if they’re all prisoner camps.”

 The skin around Razorsharp’s optics tightened.  “They were colony worlds, Rodimus Prime, not prisons.  Those who went there chose to exist outside the order of the Decepticon Empire.”

 Rodimus sighed.  “I didn’t come down here to fight with you, Razor.  I need the information so Optimus can understand the political situation before he considers Narali Morphaeus’ petition.”  He watched the icon on the screen as data was transferred to a disc.  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

 Razorsharp gazed at him a moment, gauging his sincerity.  “You may ask,” she replied.  “I may choose not to answer.”

 He grabbed a chair and dragged it over, reversing it to sit straddling the back rest.  “Okay.  This is going to be a little involved, but there’s a question at the bottom somewhere.”  He paused a moment to organize his thoughts, then continued.  “Raven got to talking about her childhood last night.  She started off explaining what she knew about Drolma III and got around to life in the Decepticon Empire: about poverty and despair and overcrowding.  I got such a sense of futility from her; that the only way out was to fight in the arena or for the Armada.  So I guess what I’m asking is, do you remember it being that way?”

 She studied him a moment, legs crossed, hands clasped around one knee.  “You have asked an honest question,” she said at last, “and I shall endeavor to answer it honestly.  Yes, life in the civilian sectors was difficult.  Poverty and crowding were common.  And because of that, we didn’t notice them, except in comparison to the splendor Autobots seemed to have.  But did I experience this for myself?  No, not really.  Not at first.  I had no progenitor but Vector Sigma and came on-line fully mature but completely naïve.  And it was my fate, good or bad, to fall first into Starscream’s hands, then Megatron’s.  It was only after they has finished with me that I met Fire-Eyes and Raven.”  She smiled at Rodimus’ start.  “Yes, it was her.  And she taught me an important lesson which will seem strange to you, given the femme you know:  Fight, or die.”  She turned away to retrieve the completed disc.  “You can never stop searching for answers, Rodimus Prime.  What is on the surface is very rarely the whole.”  She handed the stored data.  “Good hunting.”
 

 Optimus finished reading through Rodimus’ summery  of the data and looked up at the younger mech.  “You’re sure about this?” he asked, setting the data pad down.

 “Reasonably.  I mean, some of the conclusions are conjecture, obviously, but the data seem to support them.”

 “But system-wide elections with life-time terms?  Why not just the individual planets run however they want?  I know we’re proponents of democracy, but this is carrying it a little far.”

 Rodimus helped himself to a seat.  “Near as I can guess, it goes back to the prison colony idea.  A lot of the original settlers were told they could either go to Drolma or they could go to the Arena.  So they set up a system where everybody has a right to speak.  Public service has been elevated to an art form.  They practice political maneuvering in the school room, and their elections get better than a 99% turnout.  It’s pretty amazing.”

 “So what does a candidate for…what is it?  Your Old Decepticon is better than mine.”

 “DevHoj.  I practice more now, but Raven’s accent is still better than mine.  I apparently sound like a second-class street sanitation engineer.”

 Optimus snorted in amusement.  “Is there anything worse you could sound like?”

 “Yeah.  An Autobot.  At least I sound like ‘a real Decepticon.’  So anyway, Morphaeus is running for DevHoj of the Drolma system.  The catch is, if he wins, he gets to implement whatever plans he sees fit.  There’s no oversight council.  He’s on his own to do whatever he wants.”

 “So what does he want here?”

 “That I can’t tell you.  I still think he wants an alliance.  It would be a strong hand going into a hotly contested election.”

 “Is it hotly contested?”

 Rodimus laughed.  “Every election seems to fall into that category, even for the office of local dogcatcher.”

 “And street sanitation engineer?”

 The both laugh heartily for several minutes.  “This is good work,” Optimus said at last.  “You’re working on Earth tomorrow?”

 “Yes.  I’m gonna stand around staring over ‘Magnus’ shoulder and making everyone nervous.”  He fixed Optimus with a cunning look.  “It would be nice if Raven could come along.  She hasn’t been down yet.”

 “Sorry, Roddy.  I may need her for the meeting with Narali Morphaeus.  She might be able to help me get a handle on the Decepticon angle.”

 Rodimus sighed but nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll be up on the evening shuttle, in that case.  Anything else?”

 Optimus shook his head.  “Nope.  Dismissed.”  He noted the defeated slump of his protégé’s shoulders as Rodimus stood.  “You knew there would be sacrifices if you got involved with her, Roddy.”

 Rodimus looked back from the door.  “She shouldn’t be the one having to make all of them, though.”  He turned and walked out, leaving Optimus deep in thought.
 

 0700 found Rodimus on the bridge of Metroplex, reading through the logs of the evening before, taking reports and moving easily among the troops.  He was just about to leave for his morning round of meetings when Trista, his communications ensign, called out to him.

 “Sir, there’s a transmission coming through.”  The gold and blue femme tapped her console, then cocked her head to one side as if listening to the data feed that was plugged into a port behind her audio receptor.  “It’s priority, sir.”

 Rodimus nodded to the view port.  “On screen.”

 “It may be a little scratchy, sir, since it’s coming from quite a distance, but I’ll try.”  Trista patted a few more commands into the console, and was rewarded with an image of a dark-plated robot that filled the view port, only occasionally interrupted by static.

 Why does he look familiar? Rodimus nodded at the screen.  “This is Rodimus Prime of the Autobot fleet,” he announced.  “Identify yourself.”

 The mech inclined his head towards Rodimus.  “Rali Solarus from Drolma II, z’herochy’la, sending greetings to the Prince Prime of Cybertron,” he intoned, as Rodimus tried in vain to shake the feeling he’d seen that face before.  “I come in peace.”

 Rod’s optics narrowed.  “You’re not coming at all, not until you tell me what this is all about.”  He crossed his arms in from of his chestplate.  “State your business.”

 The darkened face remained unchanged.  “There is no need for foolish bravado here, Prince Prime.  I have not attempted to enter Terran orbit, nor will I until I have made myself perfectly clear.”

 The remark about foolish bravado stung, but Rod let it slide – for now.  “By all means, then, continue.”

 “The Drolma system in a small one, and the neighboring systems often war with each other to possess it.  So far, we have been able to hold back the oppressors, but I fear that ability is weakening with every new battle.”  Solarus stopped for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts.  We need protection.  We fear war will erupt at any time, and we need a link to those who can and will protect us, if need be.”

 Rodimus shook his head.  “The Autobots are not a police force.”

 Solarus frowned.  “I know this.  That is why we have chosen to ally ourselves with the Decepticons.”

 Everyone on the bridge gasped in horror, but Rodimus seemed to be carved from stone.  The dread of the dream had rippled back without warning, and he chose his next words carefully.  “Then why, may I ask, are you contacting me?”

 “Because,” Solarus explained, “you have custody of the one who is the key to making this alliance possible.”

 The sick feeling swam in the pit of Rod’s holding tanks.  “Who would that be?”

 “The Lady Razorsharp.”

 Rodimus dimmed his optics, fighting not to sigh in relief.  For one long instant, he was certain that Solarus was going to demand Raven, citing her relationship to the unlamented Megatron as a bargaining point.  But it was Razorsharp he had to worry about now.  Though prickly and distant, she was a definite asset to the Autobots.  “I still don’t see why you’re talking to me about it.  If you want her to work with you, you should talk to her.”

 “I do not with to speak with her,” Solarus snapped.  “I wish to marry her.”

 The irritated pronouncement gave Rodimus a moment’s pause.  “Uhm, well….  In that case, you should definitely land.”  He turned away from the screen and gestured for Trista to cut the audio.  “Give him approach vectors and landing clearance for Autobot City.  I’ll meet him at the landing pad.  Under no circumstances is he to get clearance for Cybertron.  I have to talk to Optimus first.”  He turned back around.  “Audio on.”  The connection clicked back on and Rodimus smiled.  “I’ll be happy to meet with you in person here on Earth, if that’s acceptable, Rali Solarus.  I can meet you at the landing platform and show you around myself.”

 “I look forward to that.  Rali Solarus out.”  The Decepticon’s image was replaced by an Autobot sigil.

 “Hellas.  I’m starting to hate politics.”
 

 The landing lights of a small shuttle were shining through the last wisps of fog as Rodimus mounted the metal steps to the landing pad.  He must have been hovering just out of orbit to get here so quickly.  Pretty bold move.  The shuttle grew larger as it descended, and soon her could see the silhouette  of an Autobot sigil on the bottom.  Frowning, Rodimus stepped back and signaled Trista on his comm.

 “Hey, Trista, how many shuttles are coming in here?”

 There was a pause while she accessed the flight manager.  “Two, sir,” she said at last.  “Rali Solarus is still inbound, and there’s a scheduled flight from Cybertron landing now.”

 The roar of the engines drowned out her next few words, forcing him to shout “What?” several times, one hand covering his audio sensor.  The whine of the engines finally faded, and he was able to catch the end of her comment.

 “- on a scheduled field trip.”

 He looked in horror at the shuttle’s opening hatch, and watched in disbelief as a handful of children popped out, accompanied by two femmes he had only seen occasionally, and Raven.  She waved to him, then turned back to the shuttle and lifted out two more kids, then waited as Velocity appeared.  Two of the children, the last two, separated from the milling group and raced toward him pell-mell.

 “Daddeeeee!”

 Rodimus crouched down, catching them as they threw themselves into his arms.  “Cerise, Peregrine!  What are you guys doing here?”  He carried them back to the group.

 “We having a field trip, Daddy,” his chatterbox daughter announced.  “We get to see Autobot City and Met… Meto…”

 “Metroplex,” Peregrine said carefully.  He was his usual quiet self, but Rod could see the excitement shining in his son’s optics.

 “Sounds fun.  Listen, I need to talk to Mommy a minute.  You guys stay here with Auntie Vel.”  He set them down near Velocity and looked at Raven, gesturing away from the others with his head.

 “What are you doing here?” he asked when they were safely out of earshot.

 “Day care field trip.  We should be on the schedule…”

 “No, I mean you.  Optimus told me yesterday that he might need you for the Morphaeus interview.”

 Raven shrugged.  “Elita commed this morning after you left and said she couldn’t make the trip.  She asked me to chaperone in her place.”

 “Optimus must have put her up to it,” Rodimus mused.  Then he snapped back to reality.  “Listen, you have to get the kids back on that shuttle and back to Cybertron.  I have some new nitwit from Drolma on the way down, and he’s not as cooperative as Morphaeus.”

 “The shuttle has to refuel,” Raven said.  “Do you need my help with him?”

 It was a tempting offer.  “No,” he said at last.  “Go with the kids, keep them safe.”  He looked past her to the children swirling around the three adults, instantly picking out his son and daughter.  “I’m having that feeling again, like this could be bad if I’m not lucky.”  He took her hand and squeezed it.  “I’m glad you’re here, though, dumb as it seems.  Keep in touch by sub-channel, and we’ll try to keep from crossing paths.  I don’t want this guy to see you or Velocity.  Gut instinct,” he said before she could ask.  He led her back over to the children.  “Hey!  Is everybody excited?”

 The raucous chorus cheered him.  Too bad Solarus was on his way.  Rodimus would have enjoyed showing the kids around.  “Great.  Lieutenant Raven and the other ladies will take you inside now.  Anything they say, I want you to do.”  He heard the rumble of another craft approaching and resolved to move them quickly.  “Off you go now.  If I get free, I’ll see if I can’t catch up with you later.”  He looked over to Raven.  ‘I love you,’ he sub-commed.

 ‘Love you, too,’ she replied.  ‘I’m here if you need me.’  Looking down at her charges, she said, “Let’s get moving.  Rodimus Prime is very busy with work right now.”  Working with the other femmes, she herded the children towards the ladder.

 Cerise and Peregrine, hanging at the back of the group near Raven, turned for one last wave.  “Bye, Daddy!”

 Rodimus waved back, watching as they left the platform, followed by their mother, who gave him one last look.  Once they were out of sight, he was able to focus on Solarus and the task at hand.

 A second shuttle floated down and settled on the pad, powering down quickly.  Rodimus approached, and the hatch opened, revealing Rali Solarus.  It seemed to Rodimus that he resembled Narali Morphaeus, though Rod wasn’t sure if it was due to a possible relationship or because both ‘Cons were Seekers.  The form must have been very popular at the height of the Decepticon Empire.  Sighing to himself, he plastered his smile back on.

 “Rali Solarus.  Welcome to Earth.”

 “Thank you, Rodimus Prime,” he returned stiffly.  “Where is the Lady Razorsharp?  I had hoped to return home as quickly as possible.

 “We certainly don’t wish to delay you unnecessarily, but Lady Razorsharp is not on Earth.  I’m sure you realize-”

 “Where is she, then?  Solarus interrupted.  “I do not object to collecting her myself, but I resent most strenuously being sent on a wild goose chase.”

 “Rali Solarus,” Rodimus began again, louder this time, “you must realize that we cannot hand Lady Razorsharp over to you as if she were a lost item.  Your request will be considered, but only after you explain why an expatriate Decepticon femme is so important to your system.”

 “I do not appreciate this, Rodimus Prime.  I must object most strenuously, but I will speak briefly with you about the situation.”

 “I appreciate your cooperation.  If you will come this way, please.”  He led the way to the stairs, checking in with Raven.

 ‘Where are you now?’

 ‘On the bridge.  Ultra-Magnus is a born teacher.’

 ‘Okay.  I’m going to snag a conference room outside there, so stay put for a while, and let ‘Magnus know what’s up if you can.’

 ‘Will do.  Raven out.’
 
 

 “Enter.”

 Finally back on Cybertron, Rodimus stepped into Optimus’ ready room, unable to help a small smile as he took in the sight of his friend and mentor.  It truly was good to have him here, alive and well, and all the pain and fear of the past had only enriched their relationship.

 “Well,” Rodimus sighed, slipping into a chair across the table from Optimus.  “This is a fine thing.”

 “Hmm.  You’re telling me.  I thought that her Ladyship might well be the target of some mech or another with dynastic designs, but I never dreamed they would all show up at once.”

 Rodimus was surprised.  “You thought this would happen?”

 “Of course.”  Optimus tapped a few commands and the screen lowered to become part of the tabletop.  “Razorsharp is, in effect, the Dowager Empress of the Decepticon Empire – though I imagine if you said that to her face, you’d be spending some time in the repair bay,” he chuckled.  “She may not command the Decepticons, but her son very well could, if he succeeds in his quest.”

 “And…what do we do with Galvatron in all this?”

 Optimus laced his fingers together under his chin.  “Galvatron in still a force to be reckoned with,” he rumbled.  “However, he is not the only force in the Decepticon Armada as have to worry about anymore.  If it were Megatron, that would be a different story.”  He let an echo if the horrors of the past lap at the edges of his bass voice.  “We will by no means let the situation in the Drolma system detract from our vigilance toward Charr.”

 “If we can hang on long enough, we may not have to worry about it.  Sirius may pull his coup off.”

 “Maybe,” Optimus allowed, “but I’m going to err on the side on caution and keep an eye on them.  So what more can you tell me about Rali Solarus?”

 “He just kept repeating that marrying Razor would get him in good with the Decepticons.  I didn’t tell him that she’s under a death sentence thanks to Straxus.  If I had to pick, I’d probably go with Narali Morphaeus.  He’s personable and we’d probably benefit more from it.”

 “Rodimus, we are not offering Lady Razorsharp to the highest bidder.  We simply do not function that way.”

 Rodimus shook his head.  “Solarus expected to simply collect her and be off again.  It was unreal.”

 “Well, unreal or not, we must appear neutral for the time being.  I’ll see Rali Solarus here tomorrow, and you can escort Narali Morphaeus around Autobot City.  Take Raven and Razorsharp along to make it more social.  If Solarus complains, I’ll simply state that Morphaeus was here first, so he can have the first chance to present his case.”  Though Optimus’ expression was hidden, the irony was clear in his tone.  “I never thought I’d be playing marriage broker for a trio of Decepticons.  Primus protect me from would-be rulers with delusions of dynasty.”
 
 

 There was absolute silence as Rodimus waited for Razorsharp to respond to the shocking news of her two would-be suitors.  He had come to her quarters as the last rays of Sol’s light fled from Cybertron’s surface, turning the sun-gilded towers back to their harsh titanium selves.  So, too, had the light of any of Her Ladyship’s usual pleasantries, restrained as they were.  Seeing Razorsharp’s ruby optics glitter with cold fire, he suddenly knew what it would have been to stand before Razor in the arena in days long past.  He wondered how many mechs had had her cruelly beautiful face as the final image imprinted on their dying processors.

 “Well,” she said at last, “what has the glorious Autobot Council decided?”

 “It…the question hasn’t gone to the Council.”

 “I see.  Will I be informed when the decision is made, or will I simply be delivered to my new lord and master bound hand and foot and be trotted out for ceremonial occasion?”

 “It’s not like that,” Rodimus protested.  “It would be more of a political arrangement.  A marriage of convenience.”

 “I do not pretend to know about you, Rodimus Prime, but I would find a marriage to someone I hardly knew, much less cared about, highly inconvenient.  Enough so that I might conveniently find myself a widow again in very short order.  Disturbingly short, if you catch my meaning.”

 Rodimus allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch.  “I think you’re too much of a political creature for that.  I think you’d find the chance to wield the kind of power we’re talking about appealing.”

 “Do not pretend you know what I would do.  You told Kup once that your wife was no tame creature.  Neither am I, and I resent the implication that I can be used in this way.”  She held up a hand before he could protest.  “I will accompany you to Earth tomorrow, but understand that I go only because I would not wish to insult Narali Morphaeus after his kindness toward my son.  But if Optimus Prime wishes for me to continue with this farce, it would behoove him to discuss it with me.  Or I might be unavailable for the next engagement.”

 Rodimus sighed.  “Is that really the way you want to play this?”

 “I am not playing, Rodimus Prime.  I am not playing in the least.”
 

 Rodimus paced nervously in front of the boarding ramp.  “I can’t believe she’s not here yet.  It will be insulting if Morphaeus shows up and we’re still waiting for Razorsharp.”

 “She’ll be here,” Raven said placidly from where she leaned against the shuttle.  “She has too much respect for Morphaeus to stand him up, even if it’s not that formal an occasion.”

 He sighed.  “I hope you’re right.  We could end up with a three-way interstellar incident if-”  He broke off as Razor came through the stairwell door, accompanied by Morphaeus.

 The Deceptifemme smiled.  “Rodimus Prime, Lieutenant, greetings.  The Narali was kind enough the meet me at my quarters this morning.  I didn’t want him to be lost in Iacon’s labyrinth.”

 Rod’s smile was uneasy.  “Great.  Why don’t we get aboard then and get going?  There’s quite a bit I want to show you today, Narali.”
 

 Morphaeus settled into the seat next to Razorsharp.  “Have you been to Earth often, Lady Razorsharp?”

 She smiled politely.  “I lived in Autobot City for some time.  I served as nanny for an Autobot family.”

 “That’s quite a change from being the Lady of Darkmount and the Lord Governor’s bheancoran.”

 Her smile became noticeably cooler.  “That was another life.  It is one of many things I have put in the past.”

 “I know well what it is to leave a life behind.  When my mother’s family was first exiled to Drolma, I thought it would be better to be dead in the Arena.  I was very young and full of idealism and righteous indignation.”

 “What happened?”

 Morphaeus sighed.  “My mother was a femme ahead of her time.  She had what was considered the bad taste to be a pacifist, and the poor judgment to say so publicly.  It cost her the relationship with my father and eventually our home.”

 “Your father put her aside?”

 “In his defense, he was a young professor at the Academy, working toward tenure.  He more than likely would have faced death in the Arena if he supported her.  And I don’t think he believed as she did.  It takes a special kind of idiocy to die for a cause you don’t support.”

 Razorsharp’s optics misted over, and she had to turn away to keep Morphaeus from seeing the methanol leak down her cheeks.  For a moment, he had sounded so much like Straxus that it could have been her late lord seated next to her, favoring her with a cynical observation.

 He touched her arm gently, and she quickly wiped the tear tracks away before turning back.  “I have done something to upset you,” he said.  “Pray, forgive me, Lady.  I would never wish for you to be distressed.”

 She shook her head.  “It is merely the old memories.  They can be bittersweet at times.”

 “I hope when I leave you will have only happy memories of my visit.”

 “You have been kindness itself, Narali Morphaeus.  You have no need to worry.”
 

 Rodimus led Raven out the heavy blast doors of Autobot City toward the causeway connecting the complex to the rolling green hills around it.

 “Did you get out here with the tour yesterday?”

 “No,” she replied.  “We stayed indoors for the most part.”  She looked around.  “Where are Razorsharp and the Narali?”

 “Climbing Mount Saint Hilary.  She wanted to show him the whole area.”

 “Shouldn’t we be with them?  You are supposed to be escorting him and not me,” she pointed out.

 “There’s nothing sensitive there.  And he can’t see anything from the top of a mountain you can’t see from space.  Besides, there’s something I want to show you.”

 “What?”

 He searched the ground for a moment, then looked back at the walls of the City and moved a few more feet.  Then he pulled her over in front of him, turning her to face away from him.  “It was here.”

 She looked around, seeing bots stroll idly in the distance.  “The dream?”

 She could feel him nod.  “I could see the blaster under the scrap.  I knew what Megatron was planning as he groveled, and still I couldn’t stop it.  I could only watch helplessly and Optimus was cut down.”  He sighed pensively.  “You know what really gets me?”

 “Hmmm?”

 “What if I had done nothing?  Optimus had him in his sights.  He could have finished Megatron, really finished him, and the War would have been over.”

 “That’s pretty wishful thinking, Rodimus.  Without Megatron, Straxus would have stepped up that much sooner and with a much larger force.  And the Straxus I knew wasn’t prone to the kinds of mistakes Megatron made.”

 He stepped back from her, and she suddenly felt the chill of the wind.  “I forget sometimes how well you knew Megatron.”  His words held an edge of bitterness.

 She turned and found his back before her.  “I am who I am, Rodimus.  I can’t change my past anymore than you can change yours.  And I wouldn’t if I could.  Any alteration could place us light-years apart now.”  She stepped up beside him to stare off the edge of the bridge.  “This is where Megatron went over?”

 “Yeah.  The dent is probably still down there.  Can’t imaging they’d take it out.”

 Raven nodded to herself.  “All right.  I’m going down for a minute.  I’ll be right back.”

 He heard her transform but didn’t watch, and in a moment, her black-winged form circled lower and lower approaching the ground.  Rodimus stepped back until he couldn’t see her.  Whatever she was doing didn’t involve him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway.
 
 

 Razorsharp accepted Morphaeus’ outstretched hand as he assisted her in the last few steps of the ascent.  From the summit, they could see clearly down to the valley where Autobot City sat like a guardian jewel near a sparkling river.

 “It is very like home,” Morphaeus said at last.

 “Is it?” Razorsharp asked.  “I have never seen any of the Drolma system.”

 “In a way, I am happy for you.  From my earliest memories, no one came to Drolma voluntarily.  When your son and daughter came, I feared that the practice of expulsion had been revived.”  He smiled fondly.  “Your son is a passionate idealist.  I hope his father was proud of him.”

 Razorsharp sighed.  “That is one of those bittersweet memories, Narali.  My lord did not live long enough to see Sirius come into his own.  But there are times when I shudder to think what would have become of my children under their father’s thumb.  Still, I miss him.  I think of him often, but I fear he would have been disappointed by the choices I have been forced to make.”

 “I knew that feeling as well,” Morphaeus said.  “I lost my own mate some vorns ago; a senseless accident.  I wonder often if she approves of how I have managed without her.”

 “Have you children, Narali?”

 “No.  Primus did not bless us so.  I like to think that if we had, the would have looked like her.  Iridia seemed to me the most beautiful being in the universe.”  He cast a sideways glance at her.  “It seems strange to me that I should cross the galaxy only to find more beauty.”

 Razorsharp looked away, smiling.  “You are very forward, Lord Morphaeus.”

 “And you are very beautiful, Lady Razorsharp.”  His happy expression clouded over.  “But there is something I should tell you; something you do not already know that might make you think differently of me.”  He settled on a boulder, inviting her to join him.  “I told you earlier how my father and mother separated.  My mother’s name was Lady Pallas, but I don’t expect you to know it.  My father, however….”

 “The professor at the Academy?” Razorsharp pressed.  Her spine crawled with the feeling that his next words would be dire.

 “Yes.  His name was Kronus.  We heard later that he took another wife, had other children.”

 “Lady Phoenicia, and Lady Thalia, and…”  She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

 “Straxus.  Yes.  He was my half-brother.  I couldn’t ask you to involve yourself in our politics without knowing.”

 “Solarus apparently wishes to involve me in you politics as well,” she said, changing the subject slightly.  “Why am I so important?”

 “As my brother’s widow, you are the last link to the old royal families.  Though you do not command, you are a force in the game.  And you would be a symbol to the people of the Drolma system.  I would like to form an alliance with the Autobots, but it would be meaningless if I do not win the election.  Solarus wishes to hand Drolma over to Galvatron and Charr.  I would go to great lengths to prevent that.”

 “And you believe that marrying me would somehow shift the balance of power in your favor?”

 “I do,” he said earnestly, “but I must also tell you that I admire you for yourself; your charm, wit and intelligence are all attractive to me.”

 Razorsharp was saved from having to answer by her communicator.  “Rodimus Prime to Razorsharp.  We’re getting near time to leave.  Do you and the Narali need pick-up?”

 “That will not be necessary,” Razor replied.  “We are on our way back now.”  She stood up.  “We must return to Autobot City, Narali.”

 Morphaeus stood.  “Of course.”  He let their previous discussion drop, sensing that pressure would gain him nothing.  “Thank you for the tour.”

 “You are most welcome.”  They returned to the city in silence.
 
 

 “So, how did it go?”

 Rodimus settled into a chair before answering Optimus’ question.  “Pretty well, I think.  We went through Autobot City and talked about Earth’s strategic situation.  Razor took him up St. Hilary to look at the view.  They seemed to hit it off, as least at far as I can tell.  She can be hard to read.”

 “That is true,” Optimus mused.  “I hate to stick my nose in it, but this involves more than personal feelings.”  He pressed a small panel on is desk.  “Optimus Prime to Lady Razorsharp.”  They waited in silence but there was no answer.

 “That’s strange,” Optimus said at last.  “Did she mention that she was going anywhere?”

 Rodimus shook his head.  “No.  She just thanked the Narali for being such a pleasant companion and left.  I couldn’t tell if she was being distant or just herself.”

 “Did Raven get a better sense of her, do you think?”

 “I…I don’t know.”  Rodimus sighed.  “I said some things I probably shouldn’t have, and she hasn’t really spoken to me since.”

 Optimus sighed as well.  “Great.  So they may both be in foul moods.  You’re going to have to deal with Raven.  I need to track down Razorsharp and get her impressions of Morphaeus.”  He turned back to the computer.  “What is the current location of Lady Razorsharp?”

 “Lady Razorsharp is not currently in Iacon,” the computer replied in a detached tone.

 “Wonderful.  Have any ships left since Rodimus Prime’s party returned?”

 “No ships have left in that time period, Optimus Prime.”

 Rodimus looked at him.  “So she’s still on the planet.”

 Optimus nodded.  “Unless she flew off under her own power.”

 “Somehow, I doubt that.”

 Optimus sat thinking for a moment.  “I think I know where she might be.”

 “Do you want me to go get her?”

 The Autobot leader shook his head.  “No.  I’ll go.  It’s time I had a talk with the Lady Razorsharp myself.”
 
 

 Optimus Prime walked carefully through the rubble-strewn streets of Old Iacon.  Funny, he thought, how everything else is New Whatever, but when we rebuilt the city, this became “Old Iacon.”  Like calling the other “New” would be admitting defeat.  Gravel crunched underfoot, and he swore silently.  He hadn’t been so clumsy last time he had walked these streets.  No, and she could have killed you then, too.  Thinking about it is a waste of time.

 The footstep behind him this time was louder, the blade merely resting on his shoulder rather than pressing too close to the skin of his throat.  Slowly, carefully, he stepped forward and turned around.  “We have to stop meeting like this.”

 His attempt at levity fell flat.  Razorsharp sighed and sheathed her blade, moving as though there would be no doubt of its placement when she let go, though she spared it not so much as a glance.  “Go away, Optimus Prime,” she said tiredly.  “I came out here to be away from Autobots, not followed around by them.”

 Optimus cleared a large space on a relatively unscathed stoop and sat down.  “Maybe I came out here to be alone, too.  I do have memories of this place that don’t involve you trying to kill me.”

 “If I really wanted you dead-”

 “I know, I know,” Optimus broke in.  “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be with Primus now.”

 She arched an eyebrow.  “Something like that, though I more often curse you to Unicron.”

 Optimus looked up, scanning the dark sky for the bizarre battle trophy satellite in its orbit.  “It’s a little late for that now.”

 “So it would seem.”

 There was silence for some time.  “I wasn’t, you know.  With Primus, I mean, while I was dead,” Optimus said at last.  “I don’t remember much from those times at all.”

 “Perhaps it was not yet your time.  Perhaps you were merely resting, gathering strength for some future battle.”  Razorsharp finally came nearer, settling at the far edge of the cleared area.  “I used to love being out here.  I was at peace.  A tiny cog in the great machinery of the Armada, easily replaced or done without.  Now I am like some central lynchpin around whom whole patterns of force turn.  It is rather overwhelming to say the least.”

 “You’ve never shied away from tough jobs before.  What’s so different about this one?”

 She looked at him in astonishment.  “Optimus, these mechs do not want me to make speeches at their propaganda parties.  They each wish to marry me.  We are talking about cycles of my life, if not the entirety of it left to me.  I, for one, regard it as very serious.”

 “You don’t wish to marry again?”

 “Why does everyone find it so convenient for me to be married?  I do not find it convenient for me in the least.”  She was silent for a long time, and Optimus let her have her peace.

 “My relationship with…Straxus…was far beyond the boarders of what you would normally term marriage.  I would be afraid to face him again bearing a divided soul.”

 “Razorsharp, he is gone.  Barring some kind of miracle, he’s not going to come walking back in and demand an accounting of your time.  And he’s past the time limit for those kind of miracles as I understand them.”

 “And you are such an expert on these things?” she asked without thinking.

 “I’ve probably had more than my share of experience,” he replied dryly.  “The Mausoleum is cold, Razorsharp, and I imagine the Royal Promenade is as well.  Don’t be in a rush to take up residence at either.  Okay?”

 “Is this a piece of advice from one old friend to another?”

 “Something like that.”  Though she couldn’t see it, she sensed he was smiling.  “Think about it.”

 “I will.  Hail, Optimus Prime.  Go with Primus.”

 “Primus keep you, Lady.”
 
 

 The ruins of Vilnacron were in no better shape than those of the old Autobot cities.  Razorsharp took no chances with subtlety, moving carefully through the rubble with her naked blade in her hand.  She could feel strange optics on her, but she had no sense of hostile intent.  Whatever pitiful creatures were watching her wanted nothing more than to be ignored and remain hidden.

 Tumbled-down buildings lined the street, but Razor paid them little attention.  Her destination lay ahead, and she could see that its spires at least had survived.  The view cheered her, oddly enough.  It gave her faith that something more remained of her past than painful memories and a distant fortress where she could never again show her face.

 She stood in the center of the final intersection, staring up at the walls of the old arena.  It wasn’t the big Arena, the center of the Empire’s warrior culture at Polyhex, but the small training ring, the place where Fire-Eyes had brought her for training, the last place she had gone by choice, rather than by abduction or necessity.  And though battered and clearly neglected through the vorns, it was still beautiful to her.

 Razorsharp crept through an opening in the piles of debris and pushed her way into the courtyard, studying the area and comparing it to her memories.  She had rarely stood on this side of the barriers, where the crowds gathered before matches to ogle the day’s contestants in the small enclosed area to one side.  She remembered much better being inside the bars, leaning against a wall ignoring the chattering fans.

 Sheathing her blade, she moved toward the access corridor, passing under the high rows of seats to come out at the balcony at the top of the wall that defined the arena itself.  She stepped up to the railing and rested her hands on it, looking down.  And that was when she realized she was not alone.

 Raven was on the floor of the ring, hands and knives a blur and flash of titanium.  She faced away from Razorsharp, spinning her blades from palm across the back of her hand and into the palm again and tossing them from hand to hand with ease.  Razorsharp was hypnotized by the whirling glare, and she was startled when one landed with a thunk in front of her, neatly bisecting the area of railing between her hands.

 She looked down to see Raven facing her, her other knife held casually at her side.  “What brings you out here?” the Autobot asked.

 “Certainly not a desire to be the object of target practice,” she replied, freeing the knife with a protesting squeal of metal on metal.  She noted the design from the wrapped hilt to the long central blade rising above two angled arms coming off the crosspiece.  “It’s new,” she noted, tossing it back down.

 Raven caught it with ease.  “Yes.  Rodimus got them for me.  The design is from a place on Earth called Japan.  It’s primarily an anti-sword weapon.”

 “Nice.”  Razor leapt lightly over the railing, dropping to the grit below and rising easily.  “So what are you doing out here?”

 “I like to think out here.  Rod and Optimus would probably have a herd of cows between them if they knew, but I like it.  It’s….”

 “Comfortable,” Razor supplied.  “I was in the Autobot ruins.  Optimus came out to talk.”

 “Out the ivory tower?  I’m amazed.”

 “You used to be more respectful,” Razorsharp chided.

 “I used to be programmed to do as I was told without questioning.  Things changed.”

 “So what has changed now?”

 Raven sighed.  “Nothing, I suppose.  Just fighting those finely honed Autobot prejudices again.  You know, I could have been the former mate of any Autobot, and Rodimus wouldn’t care.  But because it was Megatron….”

 “It bothers him greatly?”

 “I don’t know about greatly.  He just brings it up at odd times.”

 Razorsharp shrugged.  “Likely it will work itself out in time.  But I would suggest avoiding saying anything you might late regret.”

 “So far, so good on that front.  So what were you and Optimus talking about?”

 “He would like me to consider marrying Narali Morphaeus.  He didn’t put it that bluntly,” she assured Raven, seeing the other femme’s shocked expression, “but that was the gist of the conversation.”

 “Are you going to do it?”

 “I have not yet decided.  But he is considerate.  Unless he is putting on quite a show, it would certainly be no great hardship.”

 “But not a great passionate drama, either.”

 Razorsharp laughed sharply.  “I am likely beyond passionate relationships. And I have had enough to do with drama as well.”

 “That’s up to you, I suppose.  Do you remember that conversation we had?  About not passing up opportunities?”

 “I have friends, here and on Earth,” Razor asserted.

 “We spoke of companions as well.  And those nights can’t be getting any warmer,” Raven reminded her.  “Morphaeus looks pretty warm to me.”

 “He looks like the Governor.”

 “I noticed that, too.  So I’m guessing you find him physically attractive.”

 Razorsharp grimaced.  “He’s also the Governor’s half-brother.  He certainly seems more….”

 “Open?”

 “Yes.  But I do not know if I believe it.”  She sighed.  “Perhaps I am staring into the sun, looking for shadows.  Perhaps it would be the best course.  I could do much for the peace this way.”

 Raven took a step toward her, reaching out to take her arm.  “Don’t do this for Optimus or Cybertron or even Deceptica.  If you do this, do it only for yourself and your own happiness.  Nothing else is as important in this.”

 “I will mind you words,” Razor assured her.  “So.  Rodimus Prime gave you a pair of oversized toothpicks.  Are they any good or just decorative toys?”

 “You really want to ask a question like that?” Raven replied with a grin, spinning the hilts in her palms.

 “I said it, didn’t I?”  Razorsharp pulled her own blade and began to pace around Raven.

 The Autobot turned, watching her.  “You do recall that I kicked your tail last time, right?”  The knives spun faster in her hands.

 “You were older than me, faster and better trained.  Care to try now that I know what I’m doing?”  Razor continued to circle, her sword describing tight circles at her side.

 Raven took a step back and paced to match Razorsharp.  “Are we just going to hack and slash or shall we have some rules for this game?”

 “No killing,” Razor replied promptly.

 “Obviously.  And let’s keep the bleeding to accidental.  Major damage would require us to explain why we were waling away at each other.”

 Razor considered for a moment.  “Very well.  No killing blows, and no deliberate slicing.  But if you leave something hanging out, you’re going to get whacked.”

 “Fair enough.”

 “This was easier without the rules,” Razor noted, looking for an opening in Raven’s whirling blades.

 “Sucks to have a conscience, doesn’t it?”  Raven watched the sword intently, waiting for Razor’s attack.

 “I had a conscience.  It was concerned with guarding myself first.”  She launched a volley of carefully aimed blows, testing Raven’s defenses.

 Raven locked the blade in the prongs of one knife and reached in to tap Razor on the gauntlet with the other.  “Not doing you much good now, is it?”

 Razorsharp pushed the flare of anger down, knowing it was a worse enemy than her opponent.  “Too bad you haven’t hit anything you can hurt.”  She attacked again, managing to smack the flat of her sword against Raven’s helmet before the Autobot could hook it away.

 The battle turned serious then with blows traded back and forth.  Razor was careful to make contact only with the flat of her blade, and Raven’s hits came to guarded areas or with a hilt or fist.  Tiring and frustrated, Razorsharp let fly an overhand blow at Raven that would have cleaved another opponent from shoulder to opposing hip.  But Raven’s shoulder wasn’t there.  She spun to the right on the ball of her left foot, right leg rising and head bending down.

 Razor’s sword was knocked aside by Raven’s flying foot, and when the Deceptifemme had recovered her balance, Raven was crouched between her feet, right leg extended to one side, and she was aware of a sharp pressure at the back of her leg.  Looking down, she realized that Raven was too close for the sword to be effective, and that any sudden movement could cost her the use of her leg for some time.

 Carefully, she extended her arms, grounding the sword point in the grit.  “Your match.”

 The pressure eased as Raven shifted back and rose.  “Qua’jam suv.  Paldies.”  Good fight.  Thank you.

 “You are welcome.”

 The sound of a solitary bot applauding caught their attention, and as one, they looked up at the stands.  A lone Decepticon stood at the railing, and though he clapped, there was no sense of pleasure or praise in it.

 “Well done, ladies.  The Empire’s warrior tradition clearly lives in both of you.  I feel privileged to have seen this, even allowing for the fact that I had to seek you out, Lady Razorsharp.”

 Raven’s blades vanished into sub-space to be replaced by a blaster.  “You have the advantage of us, my lord.  Who might you be?”  It was clear from his appearance that he wasn’t one of the pitiful bots existing in the ruins.

 “I am Rali Solarus, of course.”  He looked past her to Razorsharp.  “I look forward to seeing you serve me as bheancoran, Lady Razorsharp.  Your blade will surely keep my enemies in line.”

 Raven stepped between them, drawing his attention back to her.  “Rali, I am Lieutenant Raven, head of Diplomatic Security.  You should not be out here unescorted.  If you will remain where you are, I will come up and escort you back to Iacon.  Vilnacron can be hazardous if one is not careful.”

 “Of course.  Lady, will you accompany us?  I am anxious to present my suit.”

 Raven looked at her.  ‘Humor him,’ she mouthed.

 “Certainly, Rali Solarus.  I was not aware you were searching for me.  We will just be a moment.”

 They made their way across the ring and through the dilapidated gate.  “So that’s the other one?”

 “Looks like it.  Rod made sure I was out of the way when he landed.”

 “And he wants me in order to form an alliance with Charr?”

 “That’s the story I heard.”

 “They’re going to find out sooner or later about the death sentence I’m under,” Razorsharp noted.  “I wonder if he could get it rescinded.”

 “That might be nice, but if you went to Charr with him, you’d have to hang around with Galvatron,” Raven pointed out.

 “True.  And not an especially appealing thought, either.”

 “I certainly didn’t think so.”  She stopped in the labyrinthine corridors of the staging area.  “I need to contact Rodimus.  He needs to know that Solarus is out wandering in the restricted zones.”

 Razorsharp stepped away to offer her some privacy, but she couldn’t help overhearing Raven’s end of the conversation.

 “Hi, it’s me….  Yeah, you were…  I know you didn’t….  Don’t worry about it….  Listen, we have something more important to talk about.  Solarus is out in Vilnacron….  Because I’m in Vilnacron….  Because I felt like it.  Listen, he was looking for Razorsharp….  Yes, she’s here too….  No, it wasn’t another field trip.  She and I were doing something and he showed up….  I’ll tell you later.  Can you meet us on the way back in?…  Well, which is closest?…  No, I flew….  Okay.  We’ll head that direction….  He’s pretty egotistical….  And here I thought it was just me.”  She laughed then.

 “Okay….  Yeah….  You, too.”  She snapped her communicator off and put it away.  “Rodimus wants us to bring him in by the South Gate.  He’s coming out that way to meet up with us.”

 “Why?”

 “Balance.  He was technically Morphaeus’ escort on Earth and we were just along for fun.  So he’s going to talk to Solarus about some long-range plans to clean up and rebuild the old cities in the hope that it will help the peace plan.”

 “But Solarus doesn’t seem to desire peace with Cybertron,” Razorsharp said as they continued their climb to the stands.

 “That doesn’t change the peace plans.  Anyway, Rodimus just needs some legitimate reason to meet him out here.”

 “I see.  He’ll serve as a diversion,” Razorsharp said as the reached the stands through a door at the back of the Royal Box.  Within moments, they had reached Solarus.

 “Thank you for waiting,” Raven said as they approached.  “Rali Solarus, allow me to present you to Lady Razorsharp, formerly of New Polyhex, Mars.  Lady Razorsharp, Rali Solarus of Drolma II.”

 “I am honored to meet you at last, Lady Razorsharp,” Solarus said, bowing.

 “The honor is mine, Rali Solarus,” Razor replied, inclining her head.  “Had I known you wished to speak with me, I would have tried to make myself available.”

 “I am not surprised that the Autobots have tried to keep us separated.  I think they fear the results of our union.”

 Raven was quick to step in before Razorsharp could protest.  “There has been no attempt to separate you, Rali.  Lady Razorsharp was in the company of myself today, along with Rodimus Prime and another guest of Cybertron.  I do not know her schedule for tomorrow, but I’m sure that, had you asked, some time could have been found for you to meet under more ideal conditions.  But we must leave now, Rali.  We are turning away from the daystar, and there are no streetlights working this far out.”

 “The Autobot says there is no plan.”  Solarus came near to sneering.  “I ask you, Lady, am I to believe this?”

 “The Lieutenant is not simply an Autobot.  She also served with the Armada at the beginning of the War, and in the Arena before that.  I have no cause to question her loyalties or her honesty,” Razorsharp replied.

 They made their was out of the arena into the darkening streets, Raven leading them back toward the lights of Iacon in the distance.

 “I’m afraid I have to ask you, Rali, not to come out here unescorted again,” Raven said as they walked.  “I can’t stress enough how dangerous it is, especially to those unfamiliar with the area.”

 “I grew up here, Lieutenant.  I am hardly unfamiliar with Vilnacron,” Solarus said stiffly.

 “It must seem very changed, then.  I know I look forward to the day when it can be restored.  My family lived not far from here, and I took training at that very arena.”  Raven scanned the surroundings, noting distant scurrying forms but seeing no signs of danger.

 “And you, Lady Razorsharp?” Solarus asked.  “What do you long for?”

 “I have a son, Rali, my late lord’s heir.  I hope he will one day take his place at the head of his father’s troops.  I hope the Decepticons can one day return to Cybertron.  But that day is vorns from now.”

 “If the Autobots did not hold Cybertron, the Decepticons could return at once.  A Golden Age could be restored within the vorn.”

 “Rali Solarus, you may wish to reconsider that line of speculation,” Raven said firmly.  “I served the Decepticons in the past, but I am loyal to the Autobots now, and what you are suggesting could lead to a renewal of hostilities.  There is no active war at the moment.  Do not make one necessary.”  She could see headlights in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief.  Soon Rodimus could take over shepherding the arrogant mech.

 “It is simply the truth, Lieutenant.  If the Autobots did not occupy Cybertron, the Decepticons could.”

 “But the Autobots are here, Rali,” Razorsharp pointed out.  “We can amuse ourselves with ‘what if’ for eons, but it will not change what is true now.  For the Decepticons to realistically return to Cybertron, they must make some kind of peace with the Autobots.”

 “I am surprised at you, Lady Razorsharp.  I had thought you would be more loyal to the ideals of Deceptica.”

 “I have seen several different versions of those ideals, Rali Solarus.  I must apply myself where Primus guides me.”

 Rodimus rolled up and the mood was broken.  “Rali,” he said, rising, “I’m surprised to find you out here this late.  If you wanted a tour of the outlying districts, I’m sure it can still be arranged.  Perhaps you would care to hear our preliminary plans to rebuild-”

 Solarus cut him off.  “I do not believe that will be necessary, Rodimus Prime, but thank you for the offer.  I do not believe I can find what I am looking for here.  But Lieutenant, if you will allow me to ask, what name did you fight under in the Arena?”

 “Raven was my name then, as it is now,” she replied.  “Changing factions does not change who I am.”

 Solarus’ smile was cool.  “Indeed.  I believe I saw you fight once.  You were most entertaining.”

 “Thank you, Rali,” she said, puzzled.

 “Not at all.  Lady Razorsharp, I am sorry things could not be different for us.  Rodimus Prime, please express my gratitude to Optimus Prime for his hospitality.  Lieutenant, it was a privilege for me to see the qIj HeghtoQ again.  I thank you for your demonstration.”  He turned and left before any of them could reply.

 “What was all that about?” Rodimus asked.  “He was all hot to pick Razorsharp up and leave just yesterday.”

 “I don’t think he liked my answers to his questions,” she replied.  “He indicated that he favored removing the Autobots from Cybertron so the Decepticons can return.”

 Rodimus lifted an eyebrow.  “Well, I can tell you now, that won’t be an option.”  He looked at Raven.  “So what was that he called you?  Am I entitled to smack him around for it?”

 She smiled faintly.  “No.  He was only being honest.  It was a title of sorts, from my days in the Arena.  It means ‘Black Bird of Death.’”

 “Fancy name,” he said.  “So who were you?” he asked Razorsharp.

 “She was only Razorsharp,” Raven answered.  “It was enough.”

 Rodimus looked from one femme to the other.  “Why do I get the feeling that you two are more dangerous than you look?”

 They exchanged a look.  “We are,” Razor told him.

 “I’m starting to believe that,” Rodimus replied.  “Let’s get back.  The night is passing without us.”  Their return to Iacon passed without incident.
 
 

 Razorsharp was glad to have some time to herself; the events of the day had left her feeling uneasy and depleted.  Remembering the calculated glimmer in Rali Solarus’ optics when he looked at Raven, the former Lady of Darkmount was very glad that it was Rodimus who would be Raven’s able protector.  Razorsharp had no doubt that Rodimus would find some way to make himself inseparable from his mate until Rali Solarus was off-planet and half-way to Drolma II.

 Still, she relished the time to herself as she finally made her way to the balcony of her high-rise.  Allowing herself the luxury of a sigh as she leaned against the railing, Razorsharp picked out the ruby glimmer of Mars as she always did.  Tonight, it looked as if she could stretch out her hand and pluck it from the crystal-black sky, and she indulged a rare flight of fancy by rising up on her toes in her wolf’s-head boots, reaching skyward.

 “A tempting illusion, is it not?”

 The bass rumble came from behind her, and for an instant, Razor’s worst nightmares and fondest hopes flared to life.  With a gasp, she snatched back her hand and whirled to find Narali Morphaeus standing behind her, looking very much like his half-brother as he stood immersed in the shadows.  He gave her an appraising glance, his optics deepest garnet in the darkness.  “Forgive me, Lady.  I did not mean to alarm you.”

 Razorsharp willed her pounding fuel pump to slow as she inclined her head respectfully.  “The fault is mine, Narali.  I forgot myself even as I should be more watchful of my surroundings, given recent events.”

 Morphaeus’ expression darkened further.  “If you mean the insolence of Rali Solarus, then I see you point.  I was most displeased when I learned that he had accosted you and Lieutenant Raven.”  He shook his head, walking past her to grip the railing in his huge clawed hands.  “He does nothing to help his case.”

 “The Rali did not accost us, my lord,” Razorsharp said evenly.  “He merely surprised us.  Something that will not be happening again.  Rali Solarus in departing from Cybertron when the daystar rises.”

 Arching an optic ridge, Morphaeus turned to face Razorsharp.  “Ah, so he is.  Then I gather he is not pressing his suit.”

 Razorsharp shook her head.  “No.  However, there was something…”  She hugged her elbows to her, trying to dispel the crawling dread that had returned with the mention of Solarus’ name.  “I am sure it was nothing.”

 Morphaeus drew closer, his huge frame filling her field of vision.  “Rali Solarus is a force to be reckoned with, Lady.  If there is something that you saw-”

 Wrapping his hands around her shoulders, Morphaeus gasped as he was swept into Razorsharp’s memory, seeing Solarus’ unsettling expression, feeling an echo of Razorsharp’s dread crawl up his neural cable.  In another instant, he realized he was staring into her optics, both of them shaking from the intensity of their unbidden exchange.  With deliberate, slow movements, he let Razorsharp go, the femme straightening from where he had almost crushed her in his grip.

 “I…do not understand,” Morphaeus ventured once several clicks had passed in silence.  “What did you…do to me?”

 Still shaking, Razorsharp kept her optics on the deckplates.  “Now it is I who did not mean to alarm you.”  She willed the shaking to stop, mostly succeeding as she dared to glance up at him.  “Sometimes, I see things.  When the circumstances are right, I can…share my observations with another.”  She smiled faintly.  “I thought it was only possible with the one to whom I am mated.”

 At these words, Morphaeus seemed to regain some semblance of control, and he, too, willed his frame to obey.  “I thank you for…sharing that with me, my lady,” he began, “although for the moment, I would prefer to table the discussion of Rali Solarus.  Rest assured, however, that he will be dealt with appropriately.”

 Turning back to the views of the spangled cosmos, Morphaeus stood with his hands resting on the railing.  “I, too, have reached for what seems so close, yet is forever out of reach.  After my mate, Iridia, was taken from me, I often gazed at the stars, wondering if she had become one of them.”  He smiled, the restrained Decepticon curving of his lips that reminded Razor of Straxus and Sirius.  “I asked Primus again and again what wrong I had done to deserve such a punishment.”

 Razor moved to stand beside him, her arms still clutched around her.  “And He was silent,” she said, making the words a statement rather than a question.

 “Yes, He was silent.  I had to learn that sometimes, it is not for us to understand the will of Primus.”  He turned to Razorsharp then, his optics burning with intensity.  “Do you believe this as well, Lady Razorsharp?”

 Nodding, Razor uncurled from her tense position.  “I do.”

 Morphaeus stepped closer still, and was glad when Razorsharp did not instinctively move a step backwards.  “Of course, one must also know when to trust experience and move ahead accordingly.”  He shifted one hand to trace her jawline, watching as a crystalline methanol tear slipped down her harlequined face.  “Do you not agree, Lady?”

 “I do,” Razorsharp whispered.

 “I am the Maker of my own destiny, Razorsharp,” Morphaeus intoned, his voice barely audible.  “I believe that destiny aligns with yours.”  Solemnly, he wiped away the lone tear with his thumb.  “I cannot promise you that it will be easy, but from what I see in you, I do not think that will pose a problem.”

 Razorsharp’s world was narrowing down to a whirling black tunnel, and Morphaeus’ garnet optics were the only light at the end.  “I live to serve as I can,” she managed through the roaring in her audios.

 Another smile, though this time, it held warmth instead of ice.  “I would hope to have mote than just your servitude,” he said gently.

 “More than that, I cannot promise,” Razor answered, removing Morphaeus’ hand from her chin, but not attempting to extricate herself from his grip on her arm.

 He nodded.  “And more from you, I would not ask.  However…am I to understand that you have agreed?”

 Forgive me, caro mia.  Razorsharp looked full into Morphaeus’ face, wearing her dignity like the mantle of a queen.  “Yes, Narali Morphaeus.  I consent to your proposal and shall ally myself with you.  We shall be wed.”
 
 

 Optimus Prime leaned back in his chair.

 “Well, I can’t say I’m unhappy about this development.  Lady Razorsharp, you should understand that you don’t need to feel pressured to make this decision.  You are an invaluable asset to me, and you are always welcome.”

 “Thank you, Optimus Prime, but I have great respect and admiration for the Narali.  I am honored to help him advance his cause.”  She sat across from him, completely serene, and distant as ever.

 “I suppose that will do, if it’s what you want.  However, in the interest of neutrality, I ought to ask if you gave equal consideration to Rali Solarus’ offer.”

 “The Rali chose to withdraw his case.  We had an... uncomfortable conversation last evening.  He seemed-”  She broke off, then chose her next words carefully.  “The Rali did leave this morning, did he not?”

 Optimus accessed the flight control logs on his terminal.  “Yes, he did.  As soon as we opened the lanes to private flights, he requested clearance to leave.  Why?”

 “Now that he is gone, perhaps it does not matter.  But it may be better to get it off my chest, as the humans say.”

 “All right.”

 “Solarus startled Raven and me in the old arena at Vilnacron after you and I spoke yesterday.  We immediately set out for Iacon, and on the way, he expressed a marked preference for expelling the Autobots from Cybertron so the Decepticons can return.”

 “Well, in that case, I’m glad you’re marrying the other one.”

 “As am I, but that is not my point.  Rodimus Prime met us en route, but it was already clear to all that Solarus and I were not suited.  He asked Raven about her name, then made some pleasantries.  As he was taking his leave of the Lieutenant, he mentioned the qIj HeghtoQ .  It means-”

 Optimus cut her off.  “I know what it means.  Raven always fought to the death.  I saw her a time or two myself, before the War.  How does it relate to Solarus?”

 “He wasn’t complementing her.  There was anger, and hate, though he seemed perfectly genial.”

 Optimus sighed.  “If he were still here, it would certainly require attention.  But I think you’re right; he’s gone, so it doesn’t really matter.  I appreciate your telling me, though.  Was there anything else you needed to see me about?”

 “I believe that is all I have, but Lord Morphaeus would like a few minutes if you can spare them.”

 “Gladly.  Right away if he’s not busy now,” Optimus said.  “What does he want to talk about?”

 “It is a delicate matter.  It is traditional for the groom to exchange gifts with the bride’s family.  I believe Lord Morphaeus will offer the alliance with the Drolma system.”

 Optimus nodded.  “I expected something like that.  Can you let me know when we get to it what I’m expected to offer in return?”

 Razorsharp grimaced.  “I cannot be present.  Lord Morphaeus must show me through deeds how he values me.  I cannot be bargained over like a head of cattle.  But if I may suggest privately…?”

 “Please.  Suggest away.”

 She took a deep breath.  “A seat on the Cybertronian Council would not be rejected.”

 “That’s a tall order, Lady Razorsharp, especially when he hasn’t won the election yet.  How is he going to honor this alliance if he doesn’t win?”

 “He will win, Optimus Prime.  And when he does, I will see it as a personal favor if you offer him the Council seat.”

 Prime looked at her, gauging the strength of her conviction.  “All right, Razorsharp.  If you can get him through that election, I’ll get him the votes on the Council.”  He laughed mirthlessly.  “I thought we were planning a wedding, not a political upheaval.”

 “In my experience, Optimus Prime, the two are not always mutually exclusive.”
 
 

 “I can’t believe you’re doing this!”

 Razor watched calmly from the sofa as an agitated Raven paced the floor.

 “The treaty can’t be so important that you would trade your honor for it!”

 Now Razor jumped to her feet.  “Question my honor again, Autobot, and you will suffer for it, mate of the Heir or not.  You as good as told me to accept him.  Why do you presume to question my decision?”

 “I said ‘if’!  ‘If you do this’!  Not ‘run out and make another huge mistake!’”

 “And why is it such a mistake, in your all-knowing opinion?”  Razor asked frostily.

 “Well, I hate to bring it up, but his brother wasn’t such a prize, was he?”

 “That is none of your business.  And I would avoid the subject of former mates, if I were you.”

 “I wasn’t with Megatron for companionship and you know it.  I let it happen last time; I stood in the dark and let Starscream hand you over to a sadist, and I told myself I couldn’t stop it.  I have just about come to believe it, too.  But what am I going to say when Optimus hands you over to Morphaeus?  How am I going to justify trading my friend for an alliance?  It’s just not worth it.”  Drained, Raven dropped on the sofa.

 “Morphaeus is neither Megatron nor the Governor.  He and I both understand the situation for what it is.  There are personal considerations as well as political ones.  The Narali and I are both tired of being alone.”

 “But there are plenty of mechs here and on Earth if you want companionship.  I’m sure Rodimus knows-”

 “Knows whom?” Razorsharp interrupted.  “What Autobot mech would give me the time of day?  At best, I am met with skepticism, at worst, hate, revulsion and in rare cares, pity.  I want none of that.  I have made my decision and given my word.  When Lord Morphaeus returns to the Drolma system, I am going with him.  I have already told Optimus Prime as much.”

 “I knew Optimus disapproved of my decision to dump the loyalty programming, but I never thought he’d punish me like this.”  Raven’s face fell, then a calculating expression flitted across it.  “We could teach him to interfere, though, if you were game.”

 “What in the two moons are you babbling about now?”

 “If we were niben, Optimus couldn’t send you away without having to explain why Rodimus Prime’s mate won’t live on Cybertron.  It would be a huge political disaster, worse than pulling out of the agreement with Drolma.”  She saw the horrified expression on Razor’s face and pressed on quickly.  “I know my family’s place was low, and that it would be a huge step down, but you wouldn’t have to leave.  Optimus wouldn’t dare send us off, with me stopping at every planet along the way, telling them I wouldn’t stay where my nibe wasn’t welcome.  But maybe it’s too much; too far for you to consider falling.”  She dropped her head into her hands and tried to suppress her sobs.

 Razorsharp crouched before her and pulled her hands away, forcing Raven to meet her gaze.  “Optimus Prime is not punishing you.  He is not sending me away.  What I am doing, I do for Cybertron, Deceptica, and myself.  I do not have the words to tell you why, but I am doing the right thing for the right reasons.”  It struck Razor as strange, that though Raven was technically older, she seemed so much younger.  Perhaps it was the Autobot’s vorns in stasis that left her idealism intact.  While Raven had slept, Razor had suffered and grown.

 “Do not tell anyone this, but my absence may not be long in any event.  Should Morphaeus lose, Primus forbid, I intend to ask Optimus Prime to give us sanctuary.  Should the election go the way I think it will, we may be here more often than you would suspect, or even hope for.  So do not weep further.  There is nothing to mourn, and much to celebrate.”  Razorsharp stood, for once towering over the Autobot.

 “And Raven, I would be proud to call you ‘sister.’”
 
 

 Raven studied herself in the reflective door surface, still debating about her ensemble.  The dark metallic gray of her gown matched her lips, and she had tinted the tips of her fingers the same, as she had seen on human females.  But the gold cloak marking her as a member of the royal family seemed garish and out-of-place.  For a moment, she considered wearing the black instead.  But she had been told to expect dignitaries from Earth, the North American region in particular, and that to wear black would, in their minds, convey disrespect.  So Raven set herself to wear the gold and accept the discomfort she felt.

 Turning away from the mirror, Raven reached for her communicator.  “How are you doing down there, Rod?”

 “Just about ready.  The last of the guests are arriving now.  I think we can safely get underway soon.”

 Raven nodded, then spoke.  “All right.  I’m on my way to get Razor.  I’ll check in again from just outside the hall.”

 “Okay.  See you soon, then.  Rodimus out.”

 Raven closed the device, ready to replace it in subspace when something crashed into the back of her unprotected head, sending her crashing to the floor.  She struggled to her hands and knees, only to be hit again.  She lay sprawled out on the carpet, knowing something was very wrong.

 A voice echoed from somewhere above her, and she struggled to understand.

 “Lady Raven.  I’m so glad to see you again.”

 Solarus.  She fought against the pressure holding her down, undoubtedly a foot placed firmly in her back.

 “No, no, don’t struggle,” he instructed.  “We have a long way to go, and no time to waste on fighting.”  Pain flared as he struck her again, and as she sank into the darkness, she thought, These dress clothes really are useless.  Damn the diplomats.  I should have worn my armor.
 

 “Lady Razorsharp to Rodimus Prime.”

 Rodimus stepped into an alcove just outside the Assembly Hall to pull his communicator.  “It’s about time,” he answered with a twinge of irritation.  “You should have been down here half a cycle ago.  The guests are starting to make bets about who has cold feet.”

 “What are you talking about?”

 “Aren’t you outside the main doors with Raven?”

 “No,” she replied.  “That’s why I called you.  I’m still in my quarters, and Raven hasn’t appeared yet.  Did she tell you she was on her way?”

 “Almost a cycle ago.  Damn.  Stay on this channel.  I’ll get right back to you.”  With a press of a button he changed frequencies.  “Rodimus to Raven.”  He waited for a minute but there was no answer.  Then he returned to Razor.  “Check our quarters then meet me in Optimus’ office.  Something is wrong.”  Closing the channel, he steeled himself to inform Morphaeus.

 The Narali  was engaged in quiet conversation with Optimus Prime.

 “Narali, Optimus, I hate to interrupt, but I think we’re going to be indefinitely delayed.”

 Morphaeus seemed to pale.  “Has the Lady Razorsharp changed her mind?”

 “No.  It’s nothing to do with her, sir, I assure you.”  He drew them both out of the Hall before continuing.  “Lieutenant Raven seems to be missing.  Last time I spoke to her, she was about to leave our quarters.  Razorsharp is checking them on the way to your office,” he said, turning to Optimus.

 “Let’s not rush things,” Optimus said.  He logged into the nearest terminal.  “Computer, what is the current location of Lieutenant Raven?”

 “Lieutenant Raven is not in Iacon.”

 “Has the Lieutenant requested flight clearance?”

 “No, Optimus Prime.”

 He shut the terminal off.  “So she hasn’t left Cybertron.”

 Razorsharp’s voice broke in.  “Rodimus Prime, I am in you quarters.  Raven’s communicator is here, on the floor.  There appears to have been some sort of struggle.  There is…there are a few drops of energon on the floor as well.”

 Optimus watched Rod’s hands tighten into fists and release rhythmically.  “Razorsharp, head for my office,” he instructed.  “We’ll meet you there.”  He looked up at Morphaeus.  “I’d better make the announcement.  Go ahead.  I’ll catch up.”

 “Indeed.  Come, my friend,” he said, turning to Rodimus.  “You cannot help her standing here.”
 

 Raven returned to consciousness before she realized it, though she took care to remain still at first, letting her internal systems run diagnostics.  Everything eventually came back green, except for some minor damage to the back of her head.  I owe him one for that.  Right between the optics, I think.  Slowly, she powered up her own optics, trying to get some kind of fix on her situation.

 She was strapped into a space craft seat, head lolling toward a bulkhead.  The rumble of the engine made it clear that wherever the ship was heading it was in a considerable hurry.  She let her head roll around to view the remainder of the compartment, but she seemed to be alone.  For the moment, Solarus was somewhere else.

 As if thinking about trouble could summon it, Solarus came through the small hatch.  His hand reached out and raked through her cropped curls, pulling them tight and yanking her head up to look at him.

 “Welcome back, Lady Raven.”  He shoved her head back against the seat, then released her and moved to lean against the opposing bulkhead.

 “It took me quite a while to put the whole thing together,” he said.  “After all, Raven could be a common name.  And, of course, you did not appear to greet me, Head of Diplomatic Security.”

 “You landed on Earth,” she replied calmly, shifting a bit in her seat.  The wound on the back of her head stung from Solarus’ blow.  “I am assigned to greet certain guests on Cybertron.  My duties did not allow me time to seek you out before you left.”

 “And yet you had time to greet Morphaeus as an honored guest.  No, no, do not argue,” he said, waving aside her protests.  “It is of no importance now.  And I was telling you how I finally managed to recognize you.  You see, it started when you were sparring with Lady Razorsharp.  Turning your back, trusting your finely honed reflexes to save you.  I knew I had seen you before, though it wasn’t your face I recognized.  It was that arrogance, that egotistical belief that in the arena, you are invincible.  I knew I had seen it before.”  He moved closer, forcing her head up again.  “I saw it in the Arena when my brother died for the heinous crime of speaking his mind.  The unarmed femme who broke a mech’s neck with a single touch.”

 “Your brother was a victim of his own unpopular politics.  I’m sorry it had to be that way, but I had no more choice than he did.  You can choose to take me back now before this becomes a real disaster.”

 “No,” he said with finality.  “You were Megatron’s before, and that makes you a force in this game, whether you like it or not.  Now you are mine, and mine you will remain.  If Rodimus Prime is co-operative, you may yet be fortunate.  But if I do not get what I want, I may yet find another use for you.”
 
 

 They were halfway to Prime’s office when Razorsharp called again.

 “Rodimus Prime, could you divert to your quarters?  I believe you should view the scene.”  He grunted a wordless reply and they changed direction accordingly.

 Morphaeus and Rod arrived at the quarters Rodimus shared with Raven, both Narali and Prince Prime taut with worry.  The door slid back to reveal a short, slight femme with night-black curls falling down her back, pacing in the middle of the room.  For a moment, he wondered if he had gone into the wrong quarters, but the femme turned to reveal a stark harlequin face, her optics a bright, angry red in contrast to her electric-blue lips.  Razorsharp had left off her armor for the occasion, as was customary to accommodate her wedding finery; consequently Rodimus almost hadn’t recognized her.  Behind him, Morphaeus was almost able to suppress a gasp of wonder at the sight of his mate-to-be, but the ceremony was clearly the furthest thing from Razor’s thoughts at the moment.

 “I cannot reach her; I have tried every frequency on the planet,” she said by way of update, gesturing with a hand made elegant by the omission of her gauntlets.  “I know it is Rali Solarus.  His signature is present in the room, and the energon is Raven’s.”

 Rod’s expression turned from worry to fury.  “If he’s hurt her, I’ll-”

 His threats were cut off by the chiming of the holovid, the Autobot symbol on the screen giving way to static, and the static gave way to the smug visage of Rali Solarus.  Razorsharp glanced at Morphaeus, and he nodded slightly, moving closer to the enraged Autobot.  Razor tapped the com button.  “This is the Lady Razorsharp.  Return at once to Cybertron, Rali Solarus, and you will receive a fair trial for abducting Lieutenant Raven.”

 Solarus laughed in her face.  “Come, my lady, surely you don’t think I’m as simple as all that?”

 Morphaeus laid a hand on her shoulder, moving into the holovid’s camera range.  “Solarus, do as Her Ladyship says.  There need be no further injury to see this resolved.”

 “No FURTHER injury?  I have been injured beyond comprehension!”  Solarus’ face became a dark echo of Rodimus’ enraged countenance.  “Narali, my quarrel is not with you, not directly.  Rodimus Prime is the one I seek.”

 Rod pushed his way in front of the screen.  “You want me, you got me, slimeball.”  He leaned forward, hands gripping the terminal so hard that the metal housing began to ripple.  “Now bring Raven back or I’ll have you blown out of the sky.”

 The Rali tut-tutted.  “Now, Rodimus Prime, is that any way to talk with your lady wife present?  You’ll frighten her.”  He smirked.  “I find this to be poetic justice in the extreme, don’t you?”

 “No,” Rodimus gritted.  “Pardon me if I fail to see your point.”

 “Oh.  Well, in that case, allow me to explain.  You gave my bride to someone else, so it is only fitting that I take your bride for myself.”  Solarus laughed, apparently pleased with his twisted joke.  “And if you’re smart, Rodimus Prime, you’ll let me through your space lanes with nary a flicker of resistance, because Raven is aboard.”

 Razorsharp broke in.  “She knows the rules, Solarus.  She is bred to her duty as we all are; if she is required to die, then that is what she will do,” Razor finished, ignoring Rodimus when he flinched at the last.  “And furthermore, I was not given to anyone.”  She looked up at Morphaeus, moving to his side and tucking a small hand into the crook of his elbow.  “I freely chose to be Narali Morphaeus’ mate.  There is no honor in taking Lady Raven hostage in hopes that she will choose you over Rodimus Prime.”

 “Petty details,” Solarus scoffed, “and pretty enough words, my lady, but you forget, I am the one who has Raven, not you.  I can be very…persuasive.”  He looked at Razorsharp, taking in every detail of her beautifully coiffed curls, the whisper-light drapery of her gown, the amethyst plaques of her rank settled around her shoulders.  She wanted to retch her holding tanks empty at the touch of his optics even through the video screen.  “You have one Terran hour to decide.  Give me what I came for, or kill me and destroy what you mean to save.”  The screen blinked off before Rodimus could even open his mouth to respond, and Morphaeus caught the Rod just before he rushed the screen, intent on putting his fist through the glass.  The towering Decepticon spun the smaller mech toward the furniture, and Rodimus fell tail-first into a chair.

 “Do not waste the time or effort,” Morphaeus said flatly as Rod struggled to his feet.  “Focus your energies on securing your mate’s release.”  He looked at Razorsharp, his expression softening.  “Will you go?”

 She nodded.  “Yes.  She is my nibe .  I can do no less.”

  “Wait a blasted minute,” Rodimus insisted, rejoining them.  “I’m not trading them.  I’ll take the whole fleet, or I’ll go on my own, but this is going to end with both of them here, safe, on Cybertron, and Solarus in a large number of very small pieces.”

 “We may yet make a Decepticon of him,” Morphaeus observed with a lifted brow.

 “Perhaps,” Razor allowed.  “I am not going to offer myself like the heroine of some bad novel, Rodimus Prime.  But she is my sister, and I am going with you.  Now, where does she keep her stash?”

 “What stash?” he asked.  “Stash of what?”

 “Later, rather than sooner, I believe,” Morphaeus murmured.

 “Again, perhaps,” Razor said.  She drew a calming breath.  “There are two things you should always remember about Decepticons, Rodimus Prime.  The do not willingly go unarmed, and they always have a stash of weapons.  Do you know where Raven keeps hers?”

 He shook his head.  “No.  Maybe in her office?”

 “Not likely,” Morphaeus said.  “An office is too impersonal.”

 “That is the center of her world as an Autobot,” Razor explained.  “They will be here, where she feels most comfortable.  Comfort is a weakness; she will have it covered.”  She studied the room with an appraising eye.  “Have a ship prepared, Rodimus Prime.  Something small and fast.  As soon as I find the weapons, we are leaving.”  She watched him leap to the communication panel, clearly glad to have a task to accomplish.

 The main room in the suite was light and airy, clearly decorated in the Autobot style, and Razorsharp suppressed a shudder.  She could not have easily lived in such foreign surroundings for long.

 “The will not be in the children’s rooms,” Morphaeus stated, beginning a process of elimination.

 “No,” she agreed.  “Nor in the kitchen or bathroom either.  Too much liquid.”  She saw his confusion at the unfamiliar terms.  “I will explain later.  They must be either in here or in the main recharge chamber.”

 Morphaeus looked toward the door.  “Shall I…?”

 “Yes.  Expediency overrules privacy, I think.”  She surveyed the walls carefully.  They were painted a uniform pastel shade Razor didn’t bother to identify, and hung here and there with bright cheery prints on flimsi-plast.  It did nothing for Razorsharp, but must have pleased Raven; she had managed to talk Rodimus into doing most of the hard work shortly after she had moved into his spacious quarters.  Razor had privately concluded that very little talk had been involved in the convincing, but Raven had been proud of her victory all the same.

 Only one part of the room actually resembled a Decepticon living space; the altar with a perpetual flame burning atop it.  Directly over the flame on the wall hung a stylized icon of Raven’s personal patron, Rhyah, guardian of femmes.  Other icons hung on the wall as well, representing the various guardians of honor, home, family and the Arena.  It was an aspect of the worship of Primus Razorsharp could not reconcile herself to, thought she had ceased to chide Raven for it.  Raven believed as firmly in the patrons who served Primus as Razorsharp did in Primus Himself.

 Drifting smoke made Razor’s optics water, and she looked down to the source, a few sticks of incense almost burnt out.  She must have lit them before dressing, Razor thought.  She lit them for me, for my wedding.  Silently, Razorsharp lifted a fresh stick from the neat pile and lit it from the altar flame.  She then blew it out and set it smoking in the holder with the others.  I will bring you home, sister.  This I swear.

 She turned her attention back to the wall of icons.  Rhyah, at the center, was clearly the best, but it was Methsek, the patroness of war and the Arena, that was the largest.  Razor’s insight prickled the hairs on the back of her neck, and carefully, she lifted the icon away.  There was a door set into the wall.  “I’ve found it,” she called out.

 The cubby wasn’t locked, and they found racks of pistols, cleaned and primed, and charged energon cores waiting in neat rows.  Knives were clipped in place, including the pronged set Rodimus had given her.

 He reached in and lifted one out, rubbing the crosspiece with his thumb.  “It’s full.  Is she carrying anything?”

 Razorsharp nodded.  “I told you; she will not willingly go unarmed unless absolutely necessary.  She was armed when Solarus took her.”

 “With what?  This thing is stocked like an armory.”

 “Lady Raven uses knives?” Morphaeus asked, looking at the weapon Rodimus held.

 “Yes,” Razorsharp replied.  “They are her primary non-energon weapons.  But she prefers blasters.”

 Morphaeus nodded to himself.  “Then she will have at least two.  Blasters are out of place at a wedding.”  He looked at Rodimus with his hand clenched around the hilt of the sai.  “Do you use knives, Rodimus Prime?”  The Autobot shook his head, and the Narali carefully took the blade from him.  “Then allow me to suggest something else.”  He gave Rodimus a pair of heavy blasters, weighted down with out-sized energon cores.  “I think these might be more to your liking.”  He turned to Razorsharp.  “Do you wish for me to meet you at the shuttle with your swords?”

 She shook her head.  “There’s no time.”  She selected a pair of long-bladed knives.  “These will have to do.  We must go, Rodimus Prime.  The clock will not wait.”

 “I will explain to Optimus Prime, then keep our guests calm.”  Morphaeus took her hand and kissed it, a more intimate gesture than his face crushed to hers could have been.  “Your courage honors me.”

 Rodimus struggled to push down methanol tears as the Decepticons exchanged endearments.  He swore silently to retrieve his mate, and once they were safely home and Razorsharp and Morphaeus safely away, they might just lock themselves in their rooms for a week straight.
 
 

 Raven flexed her wrists against the cords binding them.  “Solarus, this is insane.  You can’t hope to gain anything with this half-assed abduction nonsense.  Let me go and run away.  If you keep going, you just might outrun Rodimus Prime’s anger.”

 “You aren’t that lucky, Lady.  I’m taking you to Charr.  The Decepticons will give me control of the Drolma system.  You were Megatron’s mate.  They will respect that.  I will have power.”

 “You’re an idiot, do you know that?  No one on Charr knows me or cares who I am, except for Galvatron, and he wants me dead.  He’ll probably kill you for consorting with me, or her might kill you because his armor is pinching, or because he thinks he has fleas in his hair.  He might kill you for no reason at all.  He’s mad, Solarus.  You can’t hope to come up against him and win.”  She flexed her wrists behind her back again.  Just the tiniest bit more slack and she could reach into subspace for her knives and even the odds.

 “Razorsharp warned me that you were bred for war.  If you would willingly die rather than submit, I’m sure you would lie in order to escape.  Do not try my patience, Lady Raven.”

 The bonds gave a little bit, and Raven was able to sneak a knife into her hand.  “Solarus, I’m going to ask you one last time.  Please turn the ship around and return me to Cybertron.”  She laid the blade against the cords should the answer be wrong.

 It was.  “No, Lady Raven.  I am committed to my course.”

 Raven stood, cut bonds falling from her wrists, blade held extended in a deceptively loose grip.  “I am not asking anymore, Solarus.  Turn us back to Cybertron now.”

 He stood resolutely, arms crossed over his chest.  “No.  If you want me to do something, you will have to make me.”

 She pulled the other blade, keeping it at her side.  “Please understand that this is not how I prefer to do things.”  Raven gestured to a seat.  “Sit down, please.”

 He continued to stand.  “As I said, make me.”

 “You must be as insane as Galvatron.”  She lashed out high with a knife, and her foot came in low, hooking him behind the knee.  He toppled off balance and fell into a row of seats.

 “I think we’ve established that I can enforce my will, Solarus.  Are you ready to cooperate?”

 His own foot lashed out, catching in the long narrow skirt of her gown, and the distraction as she fought to maintain her balance was enough for him to bolt from the seat and crush her, face first, into the bulkhead, his hands holding her arms out and his legs keeping her from finding her balance.  Instinctively, she kicked up, only to have her foot ride up and down the outside of his leg in a sick parody of sensuality.

 “Oooh, do that again,” he demanded harshly.  “I like it.’

 She fought with her arms instead, reversing one of her knives and pricking him in the forearm with it.  In return, he pounded her hands into the bulkhead until she let go, them brought together over her head in one of his massive paws.  The other slid down her arm and slipped obscenely under the fabric of her gown.  She thrashed violently in the little room left to her, forcing him to lean on her with all his weight.  She wanted to retch at the feeling of his hand pressed firmly against her lower torso, but it was a slight improvement over having him rove over her skin at will.  She tried very hard not to think about the center of heat pressed close to her lower back.  Dropping her weight, she slid down the bulkhead, trying to put some distance between herself and the assault that seemed inevitable.

 He yanked her up by the arms, wrenching her shoulders.  “None of that, lady, or I’ll throw you to the floor and finish this there.  I doubt very much you would like that.”

 “Do you think I care where you rape me?  Get the Hellas off me now, and you might walk away with all your parts intact.”

 She twisted violently again, and Solarus’ hand slithered out of her bodice.  She was relieved until she felt it land on her thigh, dragging up the fabric of her skirt.  “I see why Rodimus Prime worked so hard to keep you out of sight.  Such beautiful long limbs.”  The cloth slid inexorably upward.  “I was going to hand you over to Galvatron untouched, but if he wants you dead, it hardly matters, does it?  I may even be able to convince him to let me keep you, assuming it’s out of his sight.  Of course, I would only ask if you pleased me.  Do you want to please me?”

 “I want you to go to Hellas.  You’re dead if you do this.  There isn’t anywhere far enough away you can run.”

 “I’ll take my chances.”

 Raven heard the distinctive sound of armor being unlatched, and reminded herself that Solarus was like one of the Empties that used to roam the darkness.  He was dead already; he just didn’t know it yet.  The armor clattered to the floor and she fought yet again and found herself flattened to the wall again.  The position had certain advantages, she noted clinically.  As long as he had to restrain her with his whole body, he could make no progress toward violating her.  But the hard center of heat was lower now, too low, and he leaned back, pulling her with him, seeking an angle of entry.

 At his first prod, she pulled away, flattening herself against the wall, putting as much space between them as possible.  He grasped her hip and yanked her back, unerringly impaling her.

 Raven bit her lip til she could taste bitter energon, suppressing a scream.  He could kill her, he could violate her, but she would not give him the satisfaction of breaking her.  Again and again she yanked herself away and he pulled her back, stabbing her each time.  Energon ran down her chin as she bit down with each fresh assault.

 For long minutes, she heard only Solarus’ harsh breathing in her audio receptors.  Then other sounds filtered through; shouting, pounding, the thud of a blaster firing heavy shots.  Then there was an explosion of sound and light, and she was spun away from the wall, her own arms dropping uselessly to her side as a thick elbow wedged itself under her chin, threatening the energon flow to her CPU.
 

 Fed up with failed communication attempts, Rodimus blasted the hatch open and entered, Razorsharp hot on his heels.  Then the smoke cleared, revealing chaos.

 Solarus stood at the far end of the compartment using Raven as a shield, one arm around her neck, a blaster trained on them in his other hand.

 “I was wondering when you would finally arrive, Rodimus Prime.  And I see you did bring my chosen one.  But I think you can keep her.  I like this one so much better.”  He licked Raven behind the ear, his optics never leaving Rod’s.

 Rodimus watched with careful detachment as she tried to turn her head away from Solarus.  He fought hard not to react to the energon on her chin, the awkward drape of her gown, or the dispirited slump of her frame.  No one needed to draw him a diagram of what had happened, and he crushed a stab of glee that Solarus’ fast approaching death would be completely justified.

 “Let her go, Solarus.  You’ve reached the end of the road.”  His voice was harsh and cold.

 Raven’s head came up at the sound of his voice, and they watched the amethyst light start to glow as her optics powered up.  For a moment, Rodimus entertained the insane belief that she had been off-line and missed the whole event, but her expression told him otherwise.  He watched her look from one element of the confrontation to another, then nod to herself.

 Razorsharp caught the stretch of her hand and tightened her grip on the long knife.  “Solarus, end this.  You cannot win.”

 Solarus pressed the barrel of the gun to Raven’s head.  “Perhaps I should kill her.  That would end this.”

 “I’ll end it,” Raven gasped harshly.  Her hand darted between them, grasping Solarus’ tender flesh and sinking talons through fragile skin.  The violet glow of her optics had been replaced by a scarlet glare to rival any Decepticon’s.

 Solarus thrust her aside with a wounded roar, and Rodimus took advantage of the cleared field to empty both blasters into the Decepticon mech.

 Razorsharp stalked up the narrow aisle before Solarus could hit the floor.  She spared him a brief glance, but the front of his chest housing was a sieve, and his optics already dark.  She crouched near Raven, carefully not to touch.

 “Can you rise?” she asked as the femme struggled to sit up.

 Raven nodded.  “Knives,” she rasped.  Razorsharp could see the discolored swelling on her neck, and shuddered to think about the damage she couldn’t see.

 “I’ll get them.”  She rose smoothly and turned to find Rodimus hovering them.  He held out the blades, and Razor took them.  “Give her a minute,” she implored as he tried to push past her to Raven.  “She’s still in shock.  She will need you soon, but now you can only cause her pain.”  She rested a careful hand on his arm.  “Please.  I know of what I speak.”

 He studied her with wary optics, then took a single step back.

 Razor allowed a brief smile of gratitude to cross her face, then turned and sank to Raven’s level again.  She offered the knives, and Raven took them.

 “Thank-” Raven broke off with a cough and a wince.

 “Do not speak.  I will help you up if you need assistance.”

 Raven shook her head again, raising one arm to the seat beside her and carefully curling her legs underneath her.  She rose slowly, using the seat for leverage, until she was standing upright; battered, bruised and refusing to raise her head, but standing under her own power.

 “Rodimus,” she whispered, low enough that only Razorsharp could hear.  “Is he…?”

 “He’s worried about you,” Razor said.

 Raven lifted her head a bit, and Razor could see the anger still burning in her optics.  “Take him out of here.”  Her optics flicked to Solarus’ sprawled form.  “Don’t let him see this.”

 Razorsharp nodded in comprehension.  “We will wait in the ship.”  She rose and turned away.  “Come, Rodimus Prime.  We are leaving now.”

 “Wait a minute.”  He tried to reach past her, but she blocked him.  “Get out of my way.”

 Razor took a step forward, and Rodimus backed up a bit.  “She will join us in a moment.  Do not ask right now.  There will be time for talk later.”

 He planted himself stubbornly in the aisle.  “She can’t just stay here,” he said.  “Ellie, please.  Let me take you home.”

 “Just go,” she said hoarsely.  “I’ll catch up.”  When he didn’t move, she looked up, optics crimson, seething with hate.  “Go!”

 Razorsharp dragged him away with surprising strength.  “She will come.  You have to leave with me now.”

 Raven was still standing in the aisle when Razor dragged him out the hatch.
 
 

 Rodimus threw one of the spent blasters at the shuttle bulkhead.  “What the shock was that about?”

 Razorsharp stood next to the airlock, deceptively casual.  “She has a task to accomplish.  When she is ready, we will  go.”

 “’When she’s ready?’  You saw her; you know what he did to her.  We have to get her back to Cybertron.  She could have serious injuries.”

 “The most serious damage is to her mind, and she will have to master it before anything else can heal.”

 Rodimus threw the other blaster.  It bounced off the bulkhead close to Razor’s head but she never moved.  “You know, I’m getting really tired of the Decepticon mysticism.  She’s been injured, and I want her to be healed.  That’s it.”

 “That ‘mysticism,’ as you put it, is all that held the Empire together at times.  There are rules, Rodimus Prime, and she is following them.  It was within your rights as her mate to kill Solarus for what he did, but she must finish it.”

 “What is there to finish?  He’s dead, end of story.”

 She snorted in disgust.  “Pray you never find out.”  The airlock began to cycle, and she pushed away from the wall.  “Quarantine the other ship.  Morphaeus can contact Solarus’ family, assuming he has one, and make whatever arrangements they wish.”

 The hatch opened, and Raven stepped through.  She moved stiffly and avoided meeting their optics, though Rodimus could see that her own had return to their usual cool violet.  Clutched in her hand was a torn piece of fabric that seemed to be dripping energon.  Perhaps Razorsharp had been right.  He didn’t think he wanted to know.  “Do you need anything?” he asked her.

 She moved carefully to a seat and sat slowly, clutching her package in her lap.  “Yes.  Take me home.”
 

 The ship hardly touched the landing platform when Raven was out of her seat.  She hammered with a fist at the control panel until the hatch popped open and she jumped out before Razorsharp could grab her, and set off running across the tarmac.

 “Damn it,” Rod swore from the controls.  He shut everything down with a swipe of his hand and the shuttle dropped into rest with a thud.  “I thought you were watching her.”

 Razorsharp was out the hatch after her with Rodimus close behind.  “I was.  She simply got the drop on me.”

 “So where is her finely honed Decepticon mysticism taking her now?”  The door to the stairwell had locked behind her, and he opened it with a heavy boot.

 “Do not forget she is part Autobot as well.  I cannot be expected to predict everything Raven will do.”

 “You know, it’s funny how when you know what’s going on, you wave the Decepticon sigil is everyone’s face, but when you don’t have a clue, everything’s suddenly Autobot, Autobot, Autobot.  I’m starting to wonder if you really know as much as you think.”

 Razorsharp ran down the stairs two at a time.  “Do you want to help or would you rather waste time insulting me?”

 “Well, if I knew what was going on it might help.  What does she have wrapped up in that cloth?” he asked.

 “You might prefer not to know,” she warned him.  “Where are the incinerators?”

 “Bottom level.  And I think I’d better know.”

 Razorsharp turned into an empty corridor.  “Remember, you asked.  There is a passage in one of the human’s holy books.  About cutting off offending parts of the body.  Raven was offended by a part of Solarus’ body.  She intends to discard it in the incinerators, I believe.”

 “You believe?”

 “Well, it’s not the Cauldron of the Chaos-Bringer, but I imagine it will do.”

 Rodimus stopped short as comprehension sank in.  “Oh, Primus.  She…”  He couldn’t bring himself to finish the statement.

 “Indeed.  Have I ever warned you not to anger a Tournament-tested femme?” she asked.

 “I think you just did.”  They pushed through a heavy door into Iacon’s refuse center.  Huge furnaces burned around the walls, destroying trash and generating heat that provided power for the city.

 Raven stood in front of one of the incinerators, gruesome bundle clutched to her chest.  She seemed mesmerized by the flickering flames.

 Razor stepped up to her.  “We are ready, whenever you wish to continue.

 Raven smiled distantly, then freed one hand to hold out to Rodimus.  It was slick with Solarus’ energon, but he took it and held it in both of his.

 “I’m here.  Do what you need to do.”

 She looked back toward the flames.  “I cast you out, Solarus.  You are nothing to me.  You have no claim on any part of me.”  She cast the parcel into the fire, and Rodimus fought the urge to retch at the smell of charring synth-flesh.  It was a smell he thought he had escaped with the cooling of hostilities between Autobots and Decepticons.

 Her hand trembled in his, and he turned his attention back to her, catching her as her knees gave out and she fell into his arms.
 
 

 Raven woke to see blue optics in a familiar face hovering over her.  “Hello, Perceptor.”

 He smiled.  “Welcome back, Lieutenant.  How are you feeling?”

 She tried to sit up, but fell back when stiff muscles complained.  “Not very good, to be perfectly frank.  How am I doing?”

 “Preliminary exams reveal moderate bruising at the neck and wrists, and some possible stress-fractures in the torso area.  At the very least, you will need to rest for several days.  The wound to the back of your head is minimal.”

 “What do further exams say?  Solarus…he…”  She couldn’t push the words out.

 Perceptor patted her hand, and she noticed that it had been cleaned.  “I know.  I was waiting for you to wake up before I continued.  The exam may seem rather…personal.”

 Raven tried not to laugh.  It hurt too much.  “I think I’ll manage.”  She tried not to pull away as he laid a gentle hand on her leg.  “Perceptor, can…is Lady Razorsharp waiting?”

 He nodded.  “She is outside with Rodimus Prime.  Would you like her to come in?”

 She nodded.  “If it’s not too much trouble.  I know you’re trying to help, but…I just feel so jumpy.”

 “Whatever will make this easier for you.”  He disappeared around a screen, and reappeared a moment later, Razorsharp in tow.

 The Deceptifemme hadn’t yet taken time to change, and her wedding finery reminded Raven that it should be Razor at the center of attention, rather than herself.  “I’m so sorry,” she blurted out.  “I screwed up the wedding, didn’t I?”

 Razorsharp seated herself beside the table as Perceptor continued the exam.  “You are in no way to blame for anything that has happened.  Solarus was entirely responsible, and he will pay in Hellas.”

 Raven winced as Perceptor worked.  “You have sustained some slight wounds.  I would recommend a certain amount of… discretion… in personal matters until you are healed.”

 “Delicate as always,” Razor noted.  She helped Raven sit up as Perceptor replaced the drape.  “Have you given her anything for the pain?”

 “Just about to.”  He plastered a patch to Raven’s upper arm, and a tingling seemed to spread from it, followed by numbness.

 “Velocity went for your armor.  She should be back by now.  Do you want me to send Rodimus in with it?”

 Raven took a deep breath.  “I need another minute to talk to Perceptor.  I’ll let you know, okay?”

 “Whatever you need.”  Razorsharp stood and squeezed her hand to assure her, then left.

 There was a heavy silence for a moment.  “You know what he did, right?” she asked finally.

 “Yes.  It’s fairly clear from the pattern of your injuries.”

 “Well, Rodimus and I, we weren’t exactly, discrete, before this, to use your term.  But…  I just… I might need to see you again in a few weeks.  But I won’t know….”

 “We can deal with that when or if the time comes.  I don’t want you to worry about it until here is a decision to consider.  Do you understand?”

 She smiled.  “Yes, I do.  Thank you.  I wasn’t sure if you’d understand.  I think I’m ready to face the rest of it now.”  She heard the door slide open; heard him call Rod in.

 “Hey there, Beautiful.  What’s a femme like you doin’ in a place like this?”

 She smiled in spite of herself.  The medication was starting to really kick in.  “Same as any other tough chic.  Getting’ patched up.  Used to spend a lot of time in the med bay.  Too much fightin’, stuff like that.”

 "Your fighting days are on hold for a while, sweetheart.  You know that, right?”  He held out her armor and she accepted it with a grateful smile.

 “I’ll promise to be careful, but if I don’t practice, I’m going to wind up stiff in addition to sore.”  She worked her way into her armor, the dermal patch keeping the pain manageable.

 “Just a few days, please?  I am so afraid of seeing you hurt more.”

 She took a deep breath, then reached out to take his arm to rise.  “A few days,” she agreed.  “When I feel a little more steady on my feet.”

 Rodimus must have sensed it was the best he was going to do.  “Come on.  Let’s get you out of here.  Thanks, Perceptor.”

 “She should lie down the rest of today.  The head wound is minor, but the blows did her circuitry no good.”

 “Good luck,” Rodimus scoffed, leading her to the door.  “She hardly lies down to sleep.  What makes you think she’ll rest in the middle of the day?”

 “Wait for the real medications to kick in.”

 Raven stumbled to badly on the way back to their quarters that Rod scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way.  He carried her into the recharge chamber and set her gently on the berth.  She sat upright for a moment, the sank slowly.

 Rodimus hovered over her.  “Are you going to be all right here?”

 She nodded slowly.  “Really tired.”

 “That’s okay.  I’m going to go check on the kids.  Velocity’s with them, but they’re probably driving her nuts with questions.  Then I have to make sure nothing is going to fall apart in the next 12 cycles or so.  I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

 She nodded and mumbled something unintelligible, and he slipped out of the room.
 

 She woke when Rodimus returned, crying out at the sound of the door closing.  He was in the room with her before the echo died in her audios.

 “Are you okay?”

 She nodded, pulling herself up a little.  “Just a little shaken.  How are the kids?”

 “Worried, a little.  Velocity’s doing a great job of distracting them.  I’m gonna do some paperwork in the other room if you need anything.”  He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

 “I do need something,” she blurted out.

 “What?”

 “I need you.”

 “Hon, Perceptor gave me a whole lecture on being discrete and letting you get your head together.”

 “I just…I need you to hold me.  It was so dark and quiet in here, and I need to know I’m not alone in the universe.”

 “I can do holding,” he said, crawling onto the berth.

 “You’re wearing the hardware to bed?” she asked, plinking a nail against his flame painted chest plate.

 He reached out to stroke her cheek.  “You sure?”

 She nodded, squirming under the covers to remove hers as well.  “Yes.  I’m not sleeping in or with a tin can.”

 “Okay.”  He took hers, putting it away with his own.   He climbed back into the berth and she turned to bury her face in his shoulder.  He wrapped his arms around her with a sigh.  Maybe, just maybe, things would get better.
 
 

 Despite Raven's protests, Razorsharp and Morphaeus insisted on postponing the wedding ceremony until Raven was well enough to participate.  The day after Perceptor allowed Raven to leave Repair Bay, Optimus Prime stood up at his place in the council meeting, the assembly quieting as his commanding presence filled the room.

 “Esteemed councilors, the events of the past few days have been a shock to all of us,” he began, his voice a warm, bass rumble.  “Rali Solarus' treachery has been routed, at the regrettable cost of his own life.”  Prime looked toward Raven, who was seated to his left beyond Rodimus.  “I think I speak for all of us, Lady Raven, when I say that I am glad to see you sustained no permanent damage from your ordeal.”

 Raven nodded indulgently, leaning her chin on her hand and crossing her legs, wincing a little at the protest of still-stiff muscles.  “Thank you, Optimus.  It is good to be here.”  She glanced at Rodimus, who smiled as well and patted her knee under the meeting table.

 Optimus scanned the room with his sapphire gaze, gaining their attention once more. “I personally saw to it that the Rali's supporters received a grave statement from the Autobot fleet, one that outlined very plainly the actions we would take, should they decide to seek revenge for his death.”  The temperature in the room seemed to drop with his next words.  “I assured them that retaliation would be swift and sure.  Rali Solarus acted dishonorably on all accounts, where we had extended every courtesy to him.  He broke faith with us, abducted and mistreated the Lady Raven, and threatened the general safety of Cybertron.  For those compounded crimes, he was more than deserving of the punishment that was meted out.”  Optimus cast a glance at Rodimus, who had chosen that moment to study his interlaced fingers, the younger Prime's mouth compressed into a tight, hard line.

 “Now, on to happier business.”  Optimus turned to  Razorsharp and Morphaeus, who were seated to his right.  “It is my pleasure to announce that the bonding of the Lady Razorsharp and His Excellency the Narali Morphaeus of Drolma will be celebrated tomorrow.”  His tone suggested the grin that his faceplate hid from view.  “Our congratulations to the both of you.”

 Razorsharp respectfully inclined her head to the mech who had given her and her children a safe haven, as Morphaeus smiled.  “Thank you, Optimus Prime,” Morphaeus said, as Razorsharp glanced at her intended groom, smiling. “We are simply glad that there will be no further impediment to our bonding.”

 At these words, Razorsharp's smile disappeared, and she stiffened slightly, though she schooled it behind her usual cool Decepticon facade.  Optimus, however, had noticed the change in her expression, and made a mental note to talk with her after the council meeting.  “Do we have any further business this morning?” he asked, glancing around the table.  When he received no protest, he rapped his knuckles on the table.  “All right, then.  This meeting is closed.  Ah, your Ladyship,” he said, low enough so only Morphaeus and Razor could hear as the others filed out, “could I trouble you to stay just a moment longer?”

 Her expression was unreadable, like the Razorsharp of old as she inclined her head again.  “Of course, Optimus Prime.”  She turned to Morphaeus, who lifted her hand to his lips.  “I shall only be a moment, my lord.”

 Morphaeus nodded.  “I will not be far away.”  He bowed slightly to Prime.  “Honor and glory, Optimus Prime.”

 Returning the salute, Prime nodded.  “Honor and glory,” he murmured,  the typically Decepticon phrase sounding a little strange to Razorsharp's audios,  coming from behind the faceplate of the Autobot commander.

 When the door had slid shut behind Morphaeus' dark-red plated frame, Optimus turned to Razorsharp.  “Please be seated, Lady.”  When she sank gracefully, if a bit apprehensive, back into her chair, Optimus remembered the day she had appeared in his office, frightened of the close quarters.  He remembered the quarrel between her and MadRage, when her words had been even sharper than her blade.  The memory of that heated argument gave way to that of an exiled Razorsharp, her cool assurance replaced by barely-checked panic, and then icy stoicism as she raised her children as the widowed pariah of Darkmount.

 “I couldn't help but notice your reaction when I spoke of the bonding ceremony,” he said gently, watching her.  As usual, her harlequined face betrayed nothing of the emotions he knew churned just below the surface, and the silence stretched out between them.

 Finally, Razorsharp laced her fingers together, sitting forward to clasp them around her knee.  “I apologize for being so overt,” she murmured.  “I should remember better what I am.”

 Optimus' titanium brow furrowed slightly.  “What, a femme stepping into an unknown situation?  There's no tribunal in the universe who would blame you for being at least a little apprehensive.”

 The blue-and-violet plated femme turned her head to stare at him, her optics a bright, liquid red.  “I do not fear bonding with the Narali.  I am honored that he would choose me to be his consort.”  Though holding the contact would have been a typical Decepticon defense mechanism, meant to intimidate, Razorsharp found she had to look away.  “The one thing I do fear is that I will bring dishonor to him.”

 “Lady,” Optimus breathed, shaking his head, “from what I know of you, that would be impossible.”

 “Aye, that is just it, Optimus Prime,” Razor whispered, hanging her head in shame.  “There are still some things you do not know about me.”

 “Hmm.”  Prime tapped the com button on the table in front of him. “Prime to Ops,” he called.

 “Ops here, go ahead,” answered a femme.

 “Trista, would you please see that the Lady Razorsharp and I are not disturbed, except in an emergency?  And please inform the Narali of his bride-to-be's whereabouts.”

 “Aye, sir.”

 “Thank you. Prime out.”  Optimus released the com button, then turned back to Razorsharp, who was still studying her wolf's-head boots.  “All right.  If there is something you need to tell me, we've got time.”

 “I was never bonded to the late Governor,” Razorsharp said quickly, with a sad little smile.  “He called it foolishness, to waste time on a ceremony at the Temple.”  She looked up at Prime, methanol tears slipping down her face.  “He never believed, you know.  He tried to discourage me from teaching the children about the Precepts.”

 Prime frowned again.  “You were his bheancoran, though,” he pointed out. “I've heard you say many times that that was a deep connection.”  He leaned forward.  “Perhaps all you were missing was the outward form.  That's what it seems like to me, anyway.”  He watched Razor again as she seemed to mull this over, and continued carefully. “May I ask a personal question--if you are planning to be Morphaeus' bheancoran?”

 Smiling a little, Razor tilted her head to one side.  “I do not know.  Perhaps.  In truth, I am not supposed to be here, having this conversation with you.”  Correctly taking Prime's silence for an unspoken question, she continued.  “By tradition, a bheancoran will be despondent upon the breaking of the bond.  She will desire reunion with her master so desperately that she will continue to follow him, though he journey to the life beyond this.”

 “And yet, you live.”

 “Yes, I do.  Times there were when I, too, longed to pass through the Wall into the life beyond, but to leave my children orphaned...” she shook her head.  “It was a price I was unwilling to pay.  In that, I failed in my final duty to my lord Straxus.”

 Startled to hear the name of the late Governor of Darkmount's name out of Razor's vocoder, Optimus shifted in his seat.  “Lady, you did not fail.  You remained behind to teach your children of their father.  You have survived to watch them become what they were meant to be, something I am sure many other progenitors would have wished to do.”  He put his huge, blued-steel hand over her gauntlet.  “And you truly have paid any debts you imagined you ever had.  Let it go, or miss a chance at happiness.”

 “Rodimus Prime to Optimus Prime,” came Rod's voice on the com, before Razorsharp had a chance to respond.

 “Go ahead, Roddy.”

 “We've got a couple of kids up here who would like to see their mother.  Think Her Ladyship is up to it?”

 Razorsharp jumped to her feet.  “Sirius and Destiny, here?”

 Getting to his feet as well, Optimus' grin was again evident in his voice.  “Please inform our guests that their mother shall join them shortly.”

 “Aye, Prime. Rodimus out.”

 “Well, my Lady,” Optimus said, hands on hips, “what is it to be?”

 Razorsharp's smile was its usual cool upward curving of her electric blue-painted mouth.  Stepping closer to Prime, she laid her palm against the reflective surface of his faceplate.  “You are truly the Chosen One of the Matrix, Optimus Prime.  Primus Himself guides your wise counsel.  May He grant you peace, as your words have helped me find mine.”
 

 Rodimus was in Optimus' ready room, checking his chrono every few seconds. “I commed him almost ten clicks ago,” he worried.  “What's keeping them?”  He glanced up as Raven entered through the double doors at the other end of the room, the doors meeting behind her when she had passed into the room.   “How's Morphaeus?”

 “Oh, he's fine,” Raven said offhandedly.  “He realized very quickly that he needed to disappear, at least for a few moments.  Where are Razor and Prime?”

 “That's what I'm trying to figure out,” Roddy muttered, as the Autobot leader came through the double doors, Razor on his arm.  “Thank Primus.  I was just about to put out an APB on you two.”

 Razorsharp gracefully disengaged herself from Prime's arm with a smile.  “Optimus Prime stayed behind to wish me well,” she supplied.  “We apologize if we took more time than was prudent.”  She looked around the room expectantly.  “Where are the children?”

 Rod and Raven shared a grin.  “If Your Ladyship will permit,” Rodimus began,  “presenting Their Excellencies the Lord Sirius and Lady Destiny.”  He swept his hand toward the double doors, which opened once more to admit Razorsharp's children.

 Sirius, standing tall and proud, looked very much like his late father, though his plating was dark blue instead of his father's night-black finish.  Standing next to him, ramrod straight, Destiny wore her mother's colors and harlequined face, along with the splayed wings of her father's heritage.  Her plating also showed much more silvery-gray skin than her mother's armor, but the cruel set of her crimson-painted mouth suggested that anyone who dared to touch would pay dearly.  Both young Decepticons appeared to be unarmed, but everyone present knew better; Destiny carried a twin of her mother's blade and used it nearly as proficiently.

 “Z'herochy'la, greetings to the Lady Razorsharp,” Sirius grated formally as Razorsharp came to offer her joined hands to him.  Sirius kissed her gauntlets, a ghost of a smile crossing his face.  “It is good to see you, Maman.”

 Razorsharp took her son's face in her hands and kissed his cheek, then held her arm out to Destiny, bringing her into the embrace.  “Oh, my children, I have missed you,” she murmured, as the Autobots grinned.

 The doors opened yet again to admit a winged violet blur.  “Siri! Desty!” a voice shrilled, and Razor let the children go long enough for them to embrace their sister Velocity.  When they turned back around, Morphaeus had slipped into the room and was standing beside Razorsharp, and he greeted the young lord and lady.

 “As your lady mother says, it is good to see you, children.”  He smiled at the sight of all three siblings reunited. “Lord Sirius, how goes the peace process?”

 Sirius' smile was warm.  “As well as can be expected, sir.  I believe, however, we shall make better progress after tomorrow.”  He looked expectantly at his mother.  “You have accepted the Narali's suit, have you not, Maman?”

 Shocked, Razorsharp looked from Sirius to Morphaeus.  “You...you mean to say that you knew of the Narali's intent to ask me to bond with him?”

 Morphaeus took her hands in his. “Yes, Lady. They discussed that possibility with me when they came to Drolma III some time ago.  I told them that while it was a good plan, it was premature, since I needed to ask your permission.”

 “I see.”  Razorsharp looked at her son, who had begun to frown at his mother's outburst.  “Do not worry, my son; I have accepted the Narali's suit.  I, too, desire peace for all of us.” She glanced up at Morphaeus, placing her hand against his arm.  “Among other things.”
 
 

 The ceremony was small, but joyful as a triad of priestesses sang a Decepticon hymn nearly as old as Cybertron itself.  The odd harmonies echoed against the beams of the Temple in Iacon, the waning light of Sol flushing the assembly with a purpled glow through the violet quartz roof.  Waiting expectantly at the altar was Morphaeus, his dark-red plating burnished to a garnet mirror. Beside him stood Roddy, elegantly attired in a splendid gold-shot cape, along with Sirius, a gilded flat-linked chain of his rank holding his own cape together across his chestplate.

 When closed, the doors at the end of the aisle formed a richly carved Autobot symbol.  Now, a sliver of light appeared to split the symbol in half as the doors opened to reveal Raven, who was once again attired in her beautiful draperies.  She smiled at Rod, then stepped into the purpled light as the priestesses changed the hymn to one of invocation.
 

Now did Bai-Sun protect us
He vanquished the darkness and brought the light
Hear and follow his path, o worthy
Follow his path to Primus' loving embrace

 The small group of guests stood as Razorsharp, gowned in fluid silvery fabric, appeared on the arm of Optimus Prime.  They paused for a moment in the doorway, then proceeded to follow Raven down the aisle, taking slow, measured steps.  The soft violet light played on Razor's upswept coif, glinting on the silver threads that had been woven into the night-black fibers.  Carrying Razor's blade on a cushion was her youngest, Velocity, wearing bright silver ribbons that flowed from her wingtips.  Behind her walked Destiny, in her regular armor to denote her service as bheancoran to Sirius above all.  She, however, carried her own blade, though she cradled its shielded length in the crook of her arm.
 

Rhyah, ever Blessed, look upon us now
Guard your daughters against the darkness
Bring your sons into the light
Put us on the Path of Primus now and forever

 The solemn little caravan stopped at the altar, the femmes ranging themselves to the left as the last eerie notes died away.  The old priest smiled, then stretched his arms wide to include the small gathering.

 “The blessings of Primus on all who enter here,” he said softly, though his words carried easily in the crystalline chamber.  “What would you before the All of Time?”

 Optimus, as Bearer of the Matrix, spoke first.  His voice was like thunder on the horizon as he said,
“It is written in the Book that each must unite with the other, so that in time, all may become one.”  He placed Razorsharp's hand in the priest's.  “The Lady Razorsharp does submit to be a living testimony.”

 “Does the Bearer speak truly?  Are you willing, daughter?” intoned the priest.

 “I am.”

 The priest turned to the three mechs on the platform. “And who is willing to ally themselves with her?”

 Morphaeus stepped forward.  “I am.”

 The priest took Razor's hand and placed it over Morphaeus'.  “Are you both willing to exchange vows of pledge and service to the other's cause, one to another?”

 “We are.”

 The priest raised his hands slightly, palms turned toward the couple.  “Then speak them now, truthfully, in the hearing of these witnesses.”

 Razorsharp looked up full into Morphaeus' face, once again reminded of how much he looked like his half-brother.  Then Morphaeus smiled, and any reminder of Straxus was utterly gone.  The moment gave Razorsharp the impetus she needed, and her voice was steady as she spoke her vows.

 “I, Razorsharp, ally myself to you from this moment hence,” she began, the serene words reminding Optimus of a lake near Mt. St. Hilary.  “I will walk beside you through war and peace, in times of joy and sorrow.  In being strong, I shall strengthen you.  In having honor, I will honor you.”  Her expression was intense as she spoke the final phrase.  “All of this I pledge. I shall walk beside you until Primus bid me return.”

 “Razorsharp, daughter of Primus, has pledged her alliance to you, Morphaeus.  What say you, in the hearing of these witnesses?” the priest asked.

 Morphaeus kept his optics locked on Razor's.  “I, Morphaeus, accept this offer of alliance,” he murmured.

 “Very well.”  The priest looked out over those in the Temple.  “Is there anyone who knows of any impediment to the furthering of this alliance?”  When he was answered with silence, the priest turned to Morphaeus. “Proceed.”

 “I, Morphaeus, ally myself to you from this moment hence.  I will walk beside you through war and peace, in times of joy and sorrow.”  He ran his thumbs over the backs of Razorsharp's hands as he continued.  “In being strong, I shall strengthen you.  In having honor, I will honor you.  All of this I pledge.”  A single methanol tear slipped down Razor's harlequined cheek, and Morphaeus raised his hand to gently wipe it away.  “I shall walk beside you until Primus bid me return.”

 The priest now turned to Razorsharp.  “Morphaeus, son of Kronus, has pledged his alliance to you, Razorsharp.  What say you, in the hearing of these witnesses?”

 Razor dipped her chin once. “I, Razorsharp, accept this offer of alliance.”

 Two priestesses came forward after the vows were completed, each carrying a slender silver dagger.  The priest, however, put a hand on each femme's shoulder and had a quiet word with them.  Both smiled serenely, then nodded and retreated back to their places as Velocity came forward with Razorsharp's blade on its cushion.  The third priestess also came forward, carrying a gleaming silver cup half-full of glowing purple liquid.  Curious to know about this change of form, those assembled turned their attention to the priest.

 “It is our custom for those wishing to be bonded to shed that which gives them life, as may be asked of them in their final sacrifice.”  The words brought vivid pictures to the minds of all those assembled, as each of them had seen too many do that very thing.  “Razorsharp and Morphaeus have asked that this particular blade--already distinguished with loyal service--be used to facilitate this token sacrifice.”  With these words, the priest took Razorsharp and Morphaeus' hands in each of his, pressing the middle digits to the edge of Razor's katana.  Energon welled from the miniscule cuts, and the priestess brought the cup to catch the droplets before both bots' internal systems repaired the breach.

 There was no visible difference between that which Razorsharp and Morphaeus had shed, and that which was already in the cup as the priestess stirred the contents with a silver spoon.  She stepped up and held it out to Razorsharp, the glowing liquid reflecting eerily off Razor's face.  “When you begin a journey,” the priestess began, “a new path that has begun; this is as it is.”  She held the cup as Razor guided it to her electric-blue lips. “And ever was,” the priestess chimed, “and ever was.”

 “D'ha wa, d'ha wa,” the other priestesses intoned softly, as their sister presented Morphaeus with the cup.

 “And ever was,” the cupbearer chanted, as Morphaeus drank from the cup.

 The priest took the cup from the femme and set it on the altar.  One of the priestesses went to the eternal flame that burned beneath the Icon of Primus set in the far wall of the temple, and bowed low before it.  She took a combustible filament from a niche in the wall and dipped it into the violet flame, then brought it reverently back to the altar and handed it to the priest.

 “Receive this pledge of Your son and daughter,” he called, arms spread wide.  “Make them a symbol of Your unity, forever and ever.”

 “Honor and glory!” came Sirius' call, echoed by Raven, Destiny and Velocity.

 “Till all are one!” echoed Optimus, Rodimus, Elita, and the rest of the Autobots assembled.

 “Amen, amen,” chanted the priestesses, and the priest touched the holy fire to the energon remaining in the cup.  Instantly, a bright violet flame shot up nearly to the ceiling, the explosion like a thunderclap against the crystal beams.

 The cup itself was glowing with the aftereffects of the explosion as the priest left it on the altar and turned back to Razorsharp and Morphaeus.  “Well and truly are you bonded, one to another, from this moment hence.  May Primus see fit to guide you, now and forever.”  He smiled at them.  “This ceremony is concluded; however, the Heir has asked me to give you one final direction.”  He glanced at Rodimus, who stood grinning from audio to audio.  “I believe what I am supposed to say next is, 'you may kiss the bride.'“

 Raven elbowed Rod in the side.  “You didn't!” she whispered, then looked at him for a moment.  “You did.”

 “Of course he did,” Elita observed drolly, tucking her arm into Optimus'.  “Did you expect anything different?”

 “No, I suppose not,” Raven murmured, smiling up at her mate as Morphaeus leaned to touch Razor's lips gently with his own.
 

Epilogue

 The ship settled on the landing pad with a small thump, and Razorsharp stepped down the gangplank, taking in the sights of her new home planet for the first time.  Morphaeus followed closely behind, clearly enjoying himself as he watched Razorsharp's reaction.

 “Look, how eager they are to greet you.”  He gestured to a knot of councilors chatting amongst themselves at the end of the landing strip.  “I suppose they never imagined this moment would come.”  He smiled as the councilors noticed them standing at the bottom of the ramp, the smile widening as one mech detached himself from the group to draw nearer.

 “Welcome to Drolma III,  Sarali Razorsharp,” said the mech, plated in shades of deep sea-blue.  “I am Balurus, Narali Morphaeus' chancellor.”

 Razorsharp, whose optics were dazzled by the lush greenery of Drolma III, made an effort to pay attention.  “Thank you, Balurus.” She favored him with a Decepticon smile, then turned to Morphaeus.  “It's beautiful.”

 “As is this,” Morphaeus returned, cupping her chin.

 Razor smiled shyly as Balurus stepped up beside them.  “If you will permit me, Narali, we have much to do.  Your assembly awaits your pleasure, and they are anxious to meet their new Lady.”

 Morphaeus looked at his chancellor, a broad smile on his face. “Forgive me, Balurus.  When her Ladyship is near, I am in another place altogether.”  He turned back to Razor, missing Balurus' disapproving frown.  “Shall we, then?” he asked, offering her his arm.

 “Of course, my lord,” she answered, going with him as he led her into the command center.

 Watching them go, Balurus was joined by another mech, this one plated in black and gold, his massive wings casting shadows on the platform.  “Well, Balurus, what do you think of Sarali Razorsharp so far?” came the newcomer's bass rumble.

 “She is preoccupied now…but soon…” Balurus glanced up at the towering mech.  “I have a feeling she will become far too nosy.”

 “Hmm.” The other grunted.  “What does she do?”

 “On Cybertron, she was the chief Decpticon archivist for the Iacon Central Command.  A glorified librarian, if you ask me.”

 “I have heard tell of her in vorns past,” said the other.  “She was consort to Straxus in New Polyhex.”

 Balurus looked at his companion with interest.  “Well. That’s certainly an intriguing bit of information.”

 “We cannot let her interfere with the elections,” the winged mech grated, his ruby optics glittering darkly.  “She has the support of Optimus Prime.”

 Balurus fixed the other with his own burning stare. “When everything is set into motion, the House of Prime will not be of any help to Her Ladyship.  Especially when we reveal her dirty little secret--that she conspired to have her previous Lord and Master killed. Don't you agree, Zharan?”

…An End, but also a Beginning …
 

 I am constantly in debt to Lady Razorsharp for her encouragement in writing, as well as her sharp eye that catches many of my own mistakes.  Here, I am indebted for so much more.  This story could never have happened without her comments, assistance and contributions.  Paldies, Nibe.  -LMH

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