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It would be unprofessional to rub at the bridge between his optics, but the urge to do so was there regardless.
      âI understand your excitement, Seacrest,â Ultra Magnus relented, just a little, âbut it would still serve best for you to delete the image from your banks. For security purposes.â
      Not just security purposes. There were many reasons why Ultra Magnus had been strict on his requirements for this mission. Reasons he would sit down during his debrief with Seacrest to explain.
      ⌠what was it the little seacon was saying about surprises?
        The assorted crew of sea-based individuals arrayed before him was a surprising collection. Ultra Magnus was not familiar with sea fauna and so could not entirely describe the alternate forms each mech took. This did not, however, mean he was not intimately aware of the predatory-like frame Blacktip possessed.
        With his pronged prosthetic in the grip of the larger mech, it also gave Ultra Magnus a chance to size up the Decepticon Vice Admiral. The mech was tall, roughly as tall as Ultra Magnus though slightly taller. His legs were more animalistic and if Blacktip were to stand completely straight, he would be significantly taller than the Autobot Commander, but would his balance be quite as solid?
        Blacktipâs armor was also deceptively thin. Whether this was by design, or if it were some alternate material at work, could not be determined at a glance. It left Ultra Magnus with a great deal of unknowns except for one: the mech had impeccable control.
        The grip on his prosthetic hand was firm, but not crushing as it well could have been. In truth the prosthetic lacked a great deal of the tactile sensors and Ultra Magnus could use it as easily as he could his fist in a fight. It was only his grip that suffered. The component parts not strong enough to deliver any crushing force. That Blacktip chose to be conscientious of his prosthetic signified to Ultra Magnus that this individual was aware of his surroundings and those of others. His body language too bespoke of a commander who placed the safety of his crew first.
        Though they had only just met, Ultra Magnus almost instantly approved of Blacktip.
        âThe additional title is a newer development,â Ultra Magnus explained, but he was not ready to go into detail about how it had come about. Optimusâ sacrifice, and the reality of Unicron were, at this time, state secrets. As the Dark Star Saber was supposed to have been.
        As Ultra Magnus and Blacktip exchanged greetings, Databank felt it was safe enough to approach the little seacon they were more familiar with. With his sharp audios heâd picked up on Seacrestâs disappointment. Deciding to check to make sure Seacrest was alright, Databank carefully walked up to him; his head leaning slightly further forward than his body as though he were trying to take a peek at what it was Seacrest was shuffling through. His body language was quite casual, hands down by his sides, his optics bright, and his expression open and friendly. Seacrest, at least, he knew he could trust. The little mech was surprisingly guileless. It was the others he mostly kept his optics on, at least from the corners, but he saw no reason not to speak with Seacrest.
        Leaning over by his shoulder he glanced down at the odd tin of cards, and the one that bore Ultra Magnusâ resemblance. Heâd had no idea that someone had ever made such things. Who even had gathered all the data? None of it was unknown or a secret; Magnus was depicted as he appeared early in the war; a massive hammer gripped in his hand offering out small discharges of electro magnetic energy, a far sterner expression on his faceplate than was typical of him now, and a commanding air that lent to the fact he was the SIC of the Autobots. A hardened military veteran, capable strategist, and dangerous opponent. Databank was actually quite surprised to see a series of stats on the cards, all of which almost matched up to his own take on their commander.
        âSeacrest,â he said quietly, in a calming tone, âI think youâre looking at this the wrong way; your card would actually go up in value now that Ultra Magnus has is the Autobot Commander, not to mention the leader of Cybertron.â Databank glanced over at his leader, and a delighted grin slowly nipped at the edges of his lips. âAnd I bet I could help you capitalize on that. If youâre willing to trust me with it for a little while, I can see about getting Magnus to sign it for you, and Iâll get official documentation that he signed it with his left hand, not his right which would normally be his dominantâŚâ which would increase the cardâs value to a ridiculous degree.
        Databank had a few other plans for the little Seacon, such as creating and minting a new card with Ultra Magnus as he was now with the prosthetic in his position. Heâd get that one signed as well. Seacrest may have made a mistake by bringing his entire team in on the mission without consulting Ultra Magnus, but heâd still done a good job worthy of some kind of reward, and Databank had the sneaking suspicion this was a good way to do it.
        Magnus overheard all of this, of course. Trust Databank to swoop in and offer up another good impression to this group. The mech was certainly capable.
        âI appreciate your willingness to proceed with proper procedurals, unfortunately that path is not open to us just yetâŚâ Ultra Magnus looked over at Seacrest, and then he sighed. Closing his optics and finally giving into the long-suppressed desire to rub the bridge between his optics.
        âThe object in the case you brought back from Earth,â Ultra Magnus began, looking to the others in the squad before looking back to Blacktip. âIf possible, I would prefer to keep your squad here on Cybertron while you and I discuss the situation. It is a matter of security.â
        Ultra Magnus was quiet again, but he clearly wasnât finished. Seacrest had put him into a dicey situation. Blacktip was a capable fighter, that much Ultra Magnus understood from the mechâs posture, the positioning heâd taken, and the manner in which he held himself prepared as Ultra Magnus approached. If a fight broke out between Ultra Magnus, Databank, and the squad Blacktip commanded, Ultra Magnus and Databank would be easily over powered before a security detail could enter the room. He had forgone the detail because of the swordsâ very existence. The only one who could wield it was Megatron, but that did not mean some enterprising individual wouldnât seek it regardless.
        âUnfortunately,â he continued, âI am not in a position to make demands.â His admission probably wasnât particularly wise. It was one he rather suspected another more seasoned politician, such as Starscream, would have no qualms taking advantage of. He felt there was no need to explain why he could not make demands. Blacktip, he suspected, would ascertain the truth of the situation immediately without Ultra Magnus having to expand on the situation.
        âSo, I will ask,â Ultra Magnus took a step back, carefully placing his hands at the small of his back in an at-ease posture; a posture that bespoke his military career. âWould your team be willing to wait for you in the antechamber to my office, with Databank as attendant, whilst we discuss the matter? I can provide them with energon if your team is in need of some. From my own time scouring the greater universe it was, at times, difficult to procure enough fuel for myself. The demands of an entire squad would compound on that need.â
        He had nothing more to say. He and Blacktip would first have to agree on how to proceed from this point. Ultra Magnus would have to insist on secrecy and security, and position himself into a position to ensure the swordsâ existence remained a secret. However, Blacktip had the security and safety of his squad to consider; lives in his hands. It was an altogether difficult situation. In Blacktipâs position Ultra Magnus knew he would be weighing the safety of his team as his primary concern. He could only hope that Seacrestâs insistence that he âknew a guyâ would help lean Blacktip towards trusting Ultra Magnus â at least to some degree. Outside of security, Ultra Magnus had no ulterior motives.
      Four months, eighteen days, twelve hours, fifty-six minutes.
      Ultra Magnus stood in front of the Space Bridge, as he had with each and every scheduled check-in with Seacrest. Though each check-in had resulted in the same answer Ultra Magnus had insisted on being present at the Space Bridge. Primarily because he wished to keep the communication line as limited as possible. Rather than have Databank forward it to his private comm unit in his office, he cleared the room and took the call from Seacrest here.
      It did not surprise him that it was taking Seacrest so long to find the Dark Star Saber. The planet was a living one. Always moving, shifting. The sword was not a benign object. It effected organic life, as the young human Rafael learned when Megatron had attacked Bumblebee. The Dark Energon infected the young manâs body and nearly killed him. It was likely organic life would be driven away from the sword, leaving it in an area devoid of organisms.
      Inorganic material did not have such inhibitions. Sand, driven by the ocean currents, or rocks broken from a cliff face by tectonic movement, could cover the blade. Hiding it from optics, but not from scanners. The energy reading would be broad enough that a search of the area would be necessary. No direct line would lead a search party, or an individual, to the sword.
      The heavy weight against Ultra Magnusâ back was a new, and familiar, sensation. In Seacrestâs time away from the planet Ultra Magnus had retrieved his hammer from the depths of an Insecticon hive. Its presence on his back was a comfort, but Ultra Magnus could not yet wield it. The claw-like appendage that was his hand would not allow for him to grip the handle properly, to bare the weight, and act as a fulcrum, for the hammer swing. Still, it was an impressive weapon and one that had served him admirably during the War for Cybertron.
      âUltra Magnus to Seacrest,â he said, adjusting his stance and clasping his hands behind his back. He waited for a moment, it was time for their scheduled check-in, but there were moments in which Seacrest needed time to respond.
      âUltra Magnus to Seacrest,â he repeated, his voice calm, âwhat is your status?â
      He would wait. Seacrest may be late from time to time, but the little mech had always responded. Often he would send Ultra Magnys a myriad of photographs of objects and things that had no bearing on the search he was sent to Earth for, but on more than one occation Ultra Magnus was able to use some of those photographs in his dealings with the Earth deligation. Twice Seacrest found a ship that the humans were searching for, thankfully in depths shallow enough Ultra Magnus could claim he had a scout force in the area checking on readings they had received. Not entirely a lie. He had a team in the area, but it was a specialized force consisting of only Seacrest. He would not place the little seacon at risk. The humans of Earth were a jumpy, suspicious, race. Optimus had seen great good in them, Ultra Magnus was more guarded.
      Certainly, there were members that he felt were trustworthy, but he was not going to gamble Seacrestâs safety that the finicky government would permit the little âconâs presence.
      Magnus had no doubt the humans were keeping information from him; in fact he was well aware of some of their projects. Databank had been invaluable with tracking the humanâs activity and providing security for their forces on Earth.
      But enough consideration. He waited for Seacrestâs response, prepared as he always was to ignite the Space Bridge and welcome him home.
      It would be unprofessional to rub at the bridge between his optics, but the urge to do so was there regardless.
      âI understand your excitement, Seacrest,â Ultra Magnus relented, just a little, âbut it would still serve best for you to delete the image from your banks. For security purposes.â
      Not just security purposes. There were many reasons why Ultra Magnus had been strict on his requirements for this mission. Reasons he would sit down during his debrief with Seacrest to explain.
      ⌠what was it the little seacon was saying about surprises?
      Ultra Magnus stood straight as Seacrest ambled through the massive Space Bridge, the swirling vortex dwarfing the little âcon. Seawater and sand dribbled from his frame â as Magnus expected it to â thankfully heâd taken several other precautions while Seacrest had been out. The floors and equipment inside of the room had been upgraded, a coating placed on the floor, and otherwise prepped for any returning ocean voyager.
      It was clear Seacrest was excited, and that excitement was beginning to put Ultra Magnus on edge. He did not appreciate the insinuation that Seacrest had found something more. More what? He knew Earth had, at one point, been a battleground in ages past when Autobot and Decepticon forces seeded the planet with energon. There could be other ships, wrecks, on the planet in the depths of the ocean. Weapons still yet lost to the passing of time.
      When the case was popped open, and the small crustacean was exposed, Ultra Magnusâ ever-present frown deepened. The creature would not survive long on Cybertron. While he was certain it was not sapient, he did not condone the needless killing of other life forms. Even if it was by honest mistake.
      Before Ultra Magnus could do or say anything, or take much longer to look at the Dark Star Saber and the odd bits that were attached to the handle (none of which looked healthy), Seacrest had snatched up the little crab and was speaking at it as though the crustacean was a voice amplifying device; leaving Ultra Magnus to unceremoniously take the case, nearly dropping it as he was not capable of the same care with his damaged hand.
      He quickly closed it. Shutting and locking the case so the energy from the sword would not corrupt and corrode the energon-based systems around it.
      With a show-announcer voice Ultra Magnus wondered if heâd practiced, Seacrest made a show of himself by acting as though Magnus was on one of the human game shows. Questioning him about âdoor number oneâ. The Space Bridge was wasting precious energy by keeping it open, and Ultra Magnus did not have time at this moment to play games. He had scheduled a meeting with a new group that had just recently stepped from the WellâŚ
      Unfortunately, for Seacrest, there would be no âplaying along.â
      âSeacrest, what is it you have found on Earth?â Ultra Magnus asked, his optics narrowing just a little. Though he tried to be considerate of Seacrestâs demenor, Ultra Magnusâ voice was dipping down into the no-nonsense tone he usually carried among his soldiers during the war.
      Even Databank, whose frame seemed ready to break apart at the seams from the ridiculous situation, was still as Seacrest trotted over to the door. Whatever it was that he had found was clearly living. Capable of walking through the Space Bridge without assistance.
      That could only mean one thingâŚ
      As the forms began stepping through the Bridge all of Ultra Magnusâ systems surged. Battle protocols engaged, energy re-routed to his optical array, bringing a slightly brighter blue to his gaze. Seacrest was still standing by the Bridge, his posture one of happiness. These âbots he knew. Had known. Or at least had been spending just enough time with that they had not slagged him. Ultra Magnus did not know.
      To their credit, none of the newly come individuals made a move to step farther past the Space Bridge, but that did not indicate they were no threat. Ultra Magnusâ now brighter optics looked over each individual â first catching on the largest of them â before eventually returning back to the first.
      It was not always the largest individual who was the most dangerous. Certainly, there was merit in the metal form, the weight, and power behind every hydraulic press, but smaller individuals could be as dangerous or, as Ultra Magnus learned throughout his years in command, with a larger frame to take up the bulk of their opponents attention a smaller frame could be the most deadly adversary to underestimate, but it was not the size of the individual that drew his optic.
      Upon their entry Ultra Magnus had not moved per say, but his balance had shifted. There was a battle-ready air about his frame. It was subtle, but a seasoned commander would be able to understand his intent in this situation. Outnumbered, Ultra Magnusâ priority would be to retrieve and protect his soldier; Databank. His balance was such that he was poised to intercept any attack.
      Much like the largest, and certainly most intimidating, member of their squad had positioned himself. Not in as much that it was obvious, but Ultra Magnus could see his intent. He, too, would intercept any oncoming attack on his squad long enough for them to escape back through the Space Bridge.
      His optics moved over the room, strategizing, and taking in every bite of information. He was already assessing and, being the first to speak and offering an apology, combined with the air of command that followed him, the largest of their crew gave himself away as their leader. At least in Magnusâ optics.
      There was something else there too. A quality about the way he carried himself. It was not just an air of command, but something more. Ultra Magnus could not quite translate what he was observing, but he would keep it in mind as he moved forward.
      He did not stand down, but Ultra Magnus kept his back straight and continued to hold onto the handle of the case. The weapon inside was, ultimately, useless to anyone in this room. There was only one mech capable of wielding it. Where Megatron was at this point, no one knew. Once Optimus had allowed him to go Ultra Magnus had accepted it as some bizarre pardon.
      Unless Megatron attacked, Ultra Magnus was content to let him be until he proved himself a threat once more.
      âSeacrest,â Ultra Magnus began, though he was not addressing the mech in question, but his commander. It would be unwise to divert his attention at this juncture, âas I have come to understand, is an enthusiastic individual with boundless spirit.â It was a reply worthy of a diplomat. He was acknowledging Blacktipâs admission, but he was also not besmirching the little seacon in front of what appeared to be his squad, now that Ultra Magnus was better examining the frames arrayed before him. The chances that Seacrest would, at random, encounter other sea-based frames were finite. Ultra Magnus did not have to bother with the math to know as such.
      âI am Ultra Magnus,â he began, feeling it best to introduce himself, âSupreme Commander of the Autobots and â â he had not yet gotten better about proclaiming himself ruler of Cybertron, though that was indeed his position, and though the pause in his speaking pattern was slight, to anyone with sharp audio receptors, they would hear the hesitation and the implied discomfort with his next words â â of Cybertron.â
      Not ârulerâ, not âkingâ, not âemperorâ, but a military title applied to both topics. âLeaderâ perhaps would have been neutral enough, but a proper title had not yet been discussed among the Autobots for Magnusâ position at the head of the planet.
      In truth, the title itself made him uncomfortable. Once it had fit another, now lost, and it lay heavily upon his shoulders. Inherited when he had thought, perhaps, there was no longer need.
      âWelcome to Cybertron,â he was keeping his optic contact with the leader of their group, monitoring him for any indication of attack. While he and Databank were outnumbered, the greater truth was all of Iacon was at Ultra Magnusâ call. It was a singular group of seacons versus an entire city if they attacked and did not make it back through the Space Bridge.
      Still, Ultra Magnus had the sense such a thing would be unnecessary, itâs what allowed him to set the case down, and slowly approach the larger form and offer out the prosthetic that served as his right hand, the three-pronged appendage opening to Blacktip.
      âI welcome you to Cybertron.â
      It was a risk. So many things still were, but perhaps it was a safe one.
      Four months, eighteen days, twelve hours, fifty-six minutes.
      Ultra Magnus stood in front of the Space Bridge, as he had with each and every scheduled check-in with Seacrest. Though each check-in had resulted in the same answer Ultra Magnus had insisted on being present at the Space Bridge. Primarily because he wished to keep the communication line as limited as possible. Rather than have Databank forward it to his private comm unit in his office, he cleared the room and took the call from Seacrest here.
      It did not surprise him that it was taking Seacrest so long to find the Dark Star Saber. The planet was a living one. Always moving, shifting. The sword was not a benign object. It effected organic life, as the young human Rafael learned when Megatron had attacked Bumblebee. The Dark Energon infected the young manâs body and nearly killed him. It was likely organic life would be driven away from the sword, leaving it in an area devoid of organisms.
      Inorganic material did not have such inhibitions. Sand, driven by the ocean currents, or rocks broken from a cliff face by tectonic movement, could cover the blade. Hiding it from optics, but not from scanners. The energy reading would be broad enough that a search of the area would be necessary. No direct line would lead a search party, or an individual, to the sword.
      The heavy weight against Ultra Magnusâ back was a new, and familiar, sensation. In Seacrestâs time away from the planet Ultra Magnus had retrieved his hammer from the depths of an Insecticon hive. Its presence on his back was a comfort, but Ultra Magnus could not yet wield it. The claw-like appendage that was his hand would not allow for him to grip the handle properly, to bare the weight, and act as a fulcrum, for the hammer swing. Still, it was an impressive weapon and one that had served him admirably during the War for Cybertron.
      âUltra Magnus to Seacrest,â he said, adjusting his stance and clasping his hands behind his back. He waited for a moment, it was time for their scheduled check-in, but there were moments in which Seacrest needed time to respond.
      âUltra Magnus to Seacrest,â he repeated, his voice calm, âwhat is your status?â
      He would wait. Seacrest may be late from time to time, but the little mech had always responded. Often he would send Ultra Magnys a myriad of photographs of objects and things that had no bearing on the search he was sent to Earth for, but on more than one occation Ultra Magnus was able to use some of those photographs in his dealings with the Earth deligation. Twice Seacrest found a ship that the humans were searching for, thankfully in depths shallow enough Ultra Magnus could claim he had a scout force in the area checking on readings they had received. Not entirely a lie. He had a team in the area, but it was a specialized force consisting of only Seacrest. He would not place the little seacon at risk. The humans of Earth were a jumpy, suspicious, race. Optimus had seen great good in them, Ultra Magnus was more guarded.
      Certainly, there were members that he felt were trustworthy, but he was not going to gamble Seacrestâs safety that the finicky government would permit the little âconâs presence.
      Magnus had no doubt the humans were keeping information from him; in fact he was well aware of some of their projects. Databank had been invaluable with tracking the humanâs activity and providing security for their forces on Earth.
      But enough consideration. He waited for Seacrestâs response, prepared as he always was to ignite the Space Bridge and welcome him home.
      Yes. Enthusiasm certainly suited Seacrestâs entire demeanor.
      It was not a negative trait. He knew many Autobots who enjoyed the little seaconâs attitude. The friendly, outgoing, confident, and⌠no, heâd already listed friendly in his descriptions, mannerisms had charmed the sparks of many Iaconian residents. Some still treated him as though he were a bomb ready to go off. Such was the nature of war. Individuals who had once been as warm and welcoming as the next, were now suspicious and prone to paranoia.
      Still, Ultra Magnus would have greatly preferred that Seacrest not take a selfie with a weapon of mass destruction that was meant to be entirely top secret.
      Thankfully, the only individual present capable of seeing his reaction was Databank. Unfortunately, the smaller mech was almost beside himself with mirth. Though there was no outward indication at how difficult Databank was finding it not to laugh, there was a particular glow in his optics that bespoke his amusement.
      âDatabank,â Ultra Magnus began, but he neednât have given the order.
      âAlready scrubbed the image Ultra Magnus,â and then with a petulant smile, though it was barely an upturn of his lips, Databank added: âsir.â
      Ultra Magnus leveled his gaze on Databank for a while longer, but it was apparent the smaller mech was only growing more amused by the optic contact. Something about the way Databank leaned back on one leg, a relaxed posture that reminded Ultra Magnus very strongly of another Autobot heâd once known; Jazz. He had not heard from, nor seen, the music-loving âbot since Optimus Primeâs team had left onboard the Ark.
      Though he would not smile himself, Ultra Magnus found himself grateful that things had evolved to such a point that his people were beginning to relax at all.
      âSeacrest,â Ultra Magnusâ tone was formal, but it also held a friendlier tone specifically saved for the little seacon, âyou are to be commended on a job well done, and a successful mission.â
      âI must ask, however, that you delete the image file you just captured. That weapon must remain confidential. It would be dangerous, disastrous, if rogue forces learned of its existence. Youâve done an excellent job keeping to the secrecy of your mission. Let us not ruin your good, hard, work by premature celebration.â
      He was trying to be gentle with the admonishment. Seacrest had done an excellent job. Ultra Magnus had not received any communications from the human governments regarding a massive manta ray which indicated Seacrest had followed Ultra Magnusâ instructions perfectly. Avoiding contact with the indigenous population. That he had not commâd Ultra Magnus about Decepticon activity, too, bespoke to the care he had taken.
      âWhat are your coordinates? The Space Bridge has been calibrated to equalize pressure as you traverse it back to Cybertron and it will prevent water flow from entering the vortex.â
Apparently this is the loving name given to the Big Blue serious, rule-bound, and ridged Supreme Commander of the Autobots.
The Mun is overjoyed and giggling at the idea that Magnus definitely has a nickname.
The Muse however is somewhere between pleased people are feeling relaxed enough with him to give him a nickname (he must be doing something right), but also hoping - vehemently - it never comes up in an official capacity.
It will, Magnus. Eventually it will.
Worse is yet to come, Magnus ;) just wait until @tyrantofthefirmamentâs muse getâs comfortable enough with you. Wahahahaha.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
lace, marble, china dishes, doves, paper, bones, vanilla shakes. your essence is ivory: you are a piece of history, sturdy and eternal. others believe you to be gentle; they don't see the pressure that is threatening to crack you. you seek control and organize your life into rows. you are the overseer. you are the porcelain. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of grey, noir, pearl, and ashen, who share the pressure you put on yourself. you are also drawn to the expressive rose and lilac, who will help you grow and learn that things will be okay even if they don't go right. however, you may struggle to get along with the indulgent personalities of sky and apricot who need too much stimulation and decadence.
      Four months, eighteen days, twelve hours, fifty-six minutes.
      Ultra Magnus stood in front of the Space Bridge, as he had with each and every scheduled check-in with Seacrest. Though each check-in had resulted in the same answer Ultra Magnus had insisted on being present at the Space Bridge. Primarily because he wished to keep the communication line as limited as possible. Rather than have Databank forward it to his private comm unit in his office, he cleared the room and took the call from Seacrest here.
      It did not surprise him that it was taking Seacrest so long to find the Dark Star Saber. The planet was a living one. Always moving, shifting. The sword was not a benign object. It effected organic life, as the young human Rafael learned when Megatron had attacked Bumblebee. The Dark Energon infected the young manâs body and nearly killed him. It was likely organic life would be driven away from the sword, leaving it in an area devoid of organisms.
      Inorganic material did not have such inhibitions. Sand, driven by the ocean currents, or rocks broken from a cliff face by tectonic movement, could cover the blade. Hiding it from optics, but not from scanners. The energy reading would be broad enough that a search of the area would be necessary. No direct line would lead a search party, or an individual, to the sword.
      The heavy weight against Ultra Magnusâ back was a new, and familiar, sensation. In Seacrestâs time away from the planet Ultra Magnus had retrieved his hammer from the depths of an Insecticon hive. Its presence on his back was a comfort, but Ultra Magnus could not yet wield it. The claw-like appendage that was his hand would not allow for him to grip the handle properly, to bare the weight, and act as a fulcrum, for the hammer swing. Still, it was an impressive weapon and one that had served him admirably during the War for Cybertron.
      âUltra Magnus to Seacrest,â he said, adjusting his stance and clasping his hands behind his back. He waited for a moment, it was time for their scheduled check-in, but there were moments in which Seacrest needed time to respond.
      âUltra Magnus to Seacrest,â he repeated, his voice calm, âwhat is your status?â
      He would wait. Seacrest may be late from time to time, but the little mech had always responded. Often he would send Ultra Magnys a myriad of photographs of objects and things that had no bearing on the search he was sent to Earth for, but on more than one occation Ultra Magnus was able to use some of those photographs in his dealings with the Earth deligation. Twice Seacrest found a ship that the humans were searching for, thankfully in depths shallow enough Ultra Magnus could claim he had a scout force in the area checking on readings they had received. Not entirely a lie. He had a team in the area, but it was a specialized force consisting of only Seacrest. He would not place the little seacon at risk. The humans of Earth were a jumpy, suspicious, race. Optimus had seen great good in them, Ultra Magnus was more guarded.
      Certainly, there were members that he felt were trustworthy, but he was not going to gamble Seacrestâs safety that the finicky government would permit the little âconâs presence.
      Magnus had no doubt the humans were keeping information from him; in fact he was well aware of some of their projects. Databank had been invaluable with tracking the humanâs activity and providing security for their forces on Earth.
      But enough consideration. He waited for Seacrestâs response, prepared as he always was to ignite the Space Bridge and welcome him home.
       This was a side of Seacrest Ultra Magnus was not familiar with. Out of water, it seemed, Seacrest was moderately awkward, but once one got him on the subject of water-based missions he proved the intelligence Magnus suspected was hidden beneath the bubbly personality.
He wouldnât willingly admit or acknowledge his aquatic prowess when it came to navigating the ocean or even the potential knowledge of opening spacebridges underwater, chalking it up to âeh, probably a Seacon programming thingâ rather than mere smarts. Had to be! He was a dime-a-dozen guy, many like him out there just sporting different colours and serial numbers, nothing really all that special aside heâd picked a designation for himself and stuck with it. Some time with Magnus to learn being cold constructed in bulk wasnât a bad thing.
But of course he didnât have to do this mission. He wanted to! Because he wanted to show Magnus not only thanks for how heâd been treated, but to prove he was willing to be more than his faction. He may have been a Decepticon, but that didnât mean he had to be till he offlined. He could be ⌠Whatever this was. Thankful? Appreciative? A good person!
âReady readyâ Seacrest grinned, yanking the mesh netting of the crates taut to secure the buoy on top that once he got through the bridge he could pack into his alt mode, not exactly having doors or a boot if he was a truck to be loaded up with, and Seacrest was scooping up his first drop to trot on over to Magnus ready for the start of his mission.
⌠What was those objectives again? Oh! Yes. Find the thing, report in every ⌠something hours, and one more thing about disengaging âŚ. What was it? Hm. No time to really dwell on that, there was his space bridge and the glorious image of waves just on the otherside.Â
âWish me luck!â Seacrest crowed, dashing for the swirl of light to leap out into the new world, instantly engulfed in saline and gone from view.
((This will be the end of Part 1 of this thread, itâs broken up into two parts for timeline purposes đ You can move onto read Part 2 of this thread here: Recovery: Seacrestâs Return))
      With his final words, voice laced with excitement, Seacrest vanished through the bright swirling light of the Space Bridge, leaving Ultra Magnus looking after the little seacon. It was his only option to recover the Dark Star Saber. He had no other aquatic capable team, no Autobots had returned from the war or had been sparked that could handle the depths of Earthâs oceans.
      Once the signal came from Seacrest that heâd arrived, the Space Bridge was deactivated. The roar sputtering out with a final flare of energy before leaving the room quiet. A few tests on the secured commlink and then radio silence fell.
      It was the silence that always bothered Magnus. He was not a particularly talkative individual, but it was the lack of contact with his teams that distressed him. Would that he could shoulder their burdens himself. Place himself in harms way instead of ordering others to do a job that may very well get them killed.
      This mission, at least, held less risks than those he once ordered his Wreckers on. The possibility existed that other Decepticons would search the planet for any left-over weapons, or energon caches. Thankfully only those who were present during the final days of the war knew of the Dark Star Saber, and though it was a potent weapon it had not gained renown among the greater Decepticon population.
      âUltra Magnus,â Databankâs voice was calm in his audio receptor, âyou have a meeting in five minutes with Streamlineâs group regarding search patterns they would like to fly over the northern sector.â
      âIâm on my way,â he replied, turning his back on the bridge and exiting the cavernous room, his steps echoing both loudly and with a hollow tone as though they did not quite fit the path laid before him.
Ultra Magnus was quietly making notes to make a supply run to Earth in order to collect some items for the femme. She may not have been able to carry them, but a Cybertronian most certainly could. He was considering whether it would be prudent to go himself with a trailer, or if it would suffice to bring one of the calmer new-sparks with a truck-type alt mode instead.
It was always so terrible to undergo these episodes and so taxing. It ultimately boiled down to feeling a sense of a lack of control over ones own self. The racing thoughts that crashed into the shoreline of her mind like storm-swollen waves. The sharp wind of her emotions cutting deep and adding to the chaos. When it all began to flood her head, tears continued to trickle from her shut eyes.
        The time elapsed was not great. Fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes at most, while Ultra Magnus read through a report sent to him by Sixten. His team was building a secondary smelting furnace for repurposing materials salvaged from the ruins of the city. It was the first thing Ultra Magnus had worked with his foremen on. He procured the initial materials for a smelting furnace from Earth and immediately began production. Earthâs assistance and the Earth-Cybertron trade agreement were appreciated, but Ultra Magnus preferred to remain as independent and self-sufficient as possible.
        In the meantime, the majority of their Energon was still coming from Earth. It would take some time for the scouts to map out the new energon mines on Cybertron. There were troubling inconsistencies with their old maps. Ultra Magnus had no doubt they would succeed in finding deposits that would help lessen their need for imports.
        All this consideration was not distracting him from the little femme who sheltered within the cup of his hand on the desk. His optics may have been turned away and he did not react to her behavior, but he was monitoring all her vital signs. Heart and breathing rate, blood pressure, but that was where his ability to monitor her ceased. A medic could monitor various other systems within her body; their scanners were far advanced of his own, but even with just these he could see that her âfitâ, while not optimal, was not placing her in any risk. The medical files had indicated it would end of its own accord, and she may require rest afterward.
        The shift in her breathing pattern was the first indicator that her systems were returning to normal. Deep breaths that appeared to help steady her frame. Ultra Magnus did not turn to look at her just yet, but he was continuing to monitor her regardless.
        Optics turned to look at the femme as she spoke, her voice slightly hesitant. He nodded his helm and betrayed none of the confusion that came as she hugged his thumb. Humans, he had read, required a certain degree of physical contact to maintain a healthy psyche. It was possible for them to become âtouch starvedâ if they were not properly interacted with.
        Heâd seen this among the children and Jackâs mother, June Darby. Often the adult human femme would wrap her arms around the children to embrace them. This action seemed to bring calm to them when they were upset, or after having just been reunited. Likely, it could also be used as a sign of appreciation, perhaps?
        Ultra Magnus studied her for a moment, taking one last reading, before considering where to pick up the conversation. The little femme was trying to assure him that she would do everything she could not to cause stress; it was not a promise she could keep, of course. He did understand her sentiment, though and he appreciated that she understood there were other forces involved that she needed to be aware of.
             âI only ask that you do what you can,â Ultra Magnus said, hoping to sound reasonable, âthere will be outside influences that make it impossible for our situation to remain completely â â he paused, unused to being concerned about such things, outside of efficiency, ââstress freeâ. You will have to accept that it will not always be within your control to influence such outcomes.â
             His optics looked her up and down again. He could not ignore that sheâd just experienced a panic attack, but he also did not believe it wise to bring attention to it. It could have the opposite effect he desired. As her guardian, however, Ultra Magnus had to ask some form of question.
             âDo you require anything?â Simple, and vague enough not to unnecessarily draw attention to what happened. âIf we are moving too quickly, you may take some time to examine the paperwork I gave you if that would help?â
             If it would help her take time to calm down and compartmentalize whatâd happened thus far is what he meant. She did not need to read the documents he gave her, but by giving her an out and something to at least give a semblance of privacy to sort through her thoughts, he felt it may assist her. Deflect some of the weight and expectations. It was a logical concern, and a need to review information would be a feasible excuse why to pause in their conversation.
             Ultra Magnus waited, but took the opportunity to add a little more energon to theA femmeâs cube. He was concerned she had not received enough fuel over the last several weeks. A smaller frame like hers had a smaller tank, true, but smaller frames heâd observed sometimes burned through that fuel much faster. Just because one had a smaller frame did not mean they were more efficient, after all. Ultra Magnus had his own fuel intake down to a science. Large framed individuals such as himself often found it easiest to reserve any strain or action requiring speed, to moments where it was strictly necessary. This made them surprisingly energon efficient.
             He offered her the cube. His intent was not for his gaze to be heavy, but who he was in and of itself added weight and the situation could exacerbate the effect.
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Old weapons, old threats, and dangers left behind on Earth. Ultra Magnus needs to recover the Dark Star Saber, but in the depths of Earthâs oceans how can the Autobots retrieve it? Thankfully, a seacon named Seacrest presents an opportunity. Can the little seacon be trusted with such a task? Ultra Magnus believes so.
@seacrestseaconâ replies in block quotes.
So far? This 'New Cybertron' wasn't half bad. Wasn't great, but with Magnus doing his best as leadership it could be worse. He hadn't been swindled or loopholed. Just ... Treated like a regular mech. He hadn't even seen a fight yet. So, gratitude was in order. He's tentatively sticking his helm through the doorway "... Magnus?"
     Ultra Magnus looked up from the pile of data pads on his desk at the tentative voice which had drawn his attention. Looking up he was surprised to find Seacrest peeking his helm in through the door. The little seacon had been fitting in surprisingly well. He was a amicable mech. Give him a safe berth to sleep, energon, and safety. Really it was all a lot of the new arrivals wanted.
     âSeacrest,â Ultra Magnus greeted him. âPlease come in.â Ultra Magnus finished writing down his thoughts on a proposal one of the others had submitted to him and set the data pad aside.
     âPlease take a seat,â he offered a moment later and gestured to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. âIs there something I can do for you?â
Honestly? Give any mech a berth, fuel and a little place to call âhomeâ, and they could be rather law abiding in gratitude. Not that Seacrest wasnât law abiding ... Except for that incident with the cheese wheel in Hedonia ... And the market disaster on Hydrax 5 ... And the cult thing on that one planet Blacktip dumped him in âtime outâ on... You know what, lets just, skip over all that. Seacrest was 100% law abiding.
But Seacrest did like it here. While it lacked his âSquaddiesâ, it was a very calm place, with nice little niche stores on every corner and more fuel that Seacrest had fathomed. Did you know they froze it here and sprinkled magnesium on top? Wild!
âSort of?â Seacrest mumbled as he took one of the offered seats, pushing across a giant lump of ... Organic material, apparently sanded and carved.
â.... I didnât know how to say Thank You for letting me stay here ... And your desk looks rather empty ... I was, kinda, hoping you might like this? Itâs a Orceus Galacticus. We used to see them on trips to and from outpost planets, feeding on the dust rings of planets and asteroid fields...â
     Ultra Magnus raised an optical ridge at Seacrestâs demeanor. He had not struck the Commander as one to mumble, and yet he was. Was something wrong or-
     Before Ultra Magnus could finish his thought, Seacrest was sliding something across his desk to him. Initial scans indicated it was organic in nature, but it had been altered. Carved, he believed it was called, and it was surprisingly good. It was what it meant that had Ultra Magnus completely astounded.
     In his time working as chief of security, and then as leader of the Wreckers, Ultra Magnus had not, himself, been the recipient of a gift. He had also never been the one to offer a gift. It was a situation that Ultra Magnus had never simulated as happening to him.
     Ultra Magnus reached forward with his good hand and picked up the carved Orceus Galacticus and turned it over. It was actually quite impressive, but how was he supposed to react?
     Giving Seacrest a place to stay, fuel, and safety wasnât something Ultra Magnus thought should be repaid. It seemed only right for Ultra Magnus to offer Seacrest those things. If only because it was now his responsibility, but further because it was the right thing to do. The thing Optimus would have done.
     Was that all though? Was it only what was rightfully his responsibility, something Optimus Prime handed down to him?
     âThank you, Seacrest,â he said and a smile slowly crept across his face. No. It wasnât just because of right and wrong, responsibility, or Optimus Prime. It was because Ultra Magnus wanted to keep people safe. No matter who they were, no matter their allegiance. It was his wish to provide safety for anyone who needed it.
     âI will be sure to get a display case to keep it in on my desk,â Ultra Magnus promised. His desk was quite empty of personal touches. Perhaps it was not necessary to keep his desk to military standard. Ultra Magnus was not simply the Autobot commander, but also a City Leader now.
     âWould you like some energon, Seacrest?â Ultra Magnus asked.
âDo ... You like it?â
Fidgeting in his seat, twiddling digits and wings canting in apprehension in how Magnus took his gratitude, and the little seacon was a constant state of eyes on the floor, then Magnusâs servos, up to his face, and back to the floor. Would Magnus like it? Would he hate it? Would he hate Seacrest for being so low in rank? Was that speech back in the mines all bullscrap?
But, the last time he looked up, left him shell shocked.
Magnus, The Ultra Magnus, was smiling! Over a gift he had given him!!
A display case? Just ... Just for this?
At first, Seacrest had made it as something to sit on a desk edge to counteract the emptiness of Magnusâs current desk. But, in those big blue servos? It looked more like a paper weight. It might even hold a Stylus from the way the fluke tail curled backwards.
â... I would love some energonâ He admitted, wings hiked and happy that his gift was well received.
        Standing from behind his desk Ultra Magnus moved over to the far left wall and touched it lightly with a digit. The wall hissed softly and the panel slide aside to reveal energon cubes hidden within it. The shelf and panel was insulated so that the energon would not register on scanners; a security feature Magnus had implemented. Heâd utilized energon cubes, and raw energon, as a means for distraction or to cause damage a few too many times to trust that an angry individual, or someone come to deactivate him, wouldnât blast the holding unit.  Of course once someone knew it was there it became a moot point. Still; Ultra Magnus did not believe Seacrest was a threat.
        Setting down the cube in front of Seacrest, and his own down next to his work station, Ultra Magnus took his seat again and watched the ocean-going mech with a level gaze.
        âHow have you been settling in here at Iacon, Seacrest?â Ultra Magnus questioned and took a sip from his energon. He was about due for refueling and taking it early would do no harm. He made note of it in his internal schedule so as not to double up on fuel. He was most scrupulous about this; they had energon now, but it did not do to waste it by being forgetful.
        Ultra Magnus set the carving forward, and just to the right, of his work space so that it would be on display for now. Heâd never been the creative type and those with the ability had normally caused him no end of trouble. It did not mean he did not appreciate art. He would be good to his word and get a display case for it so it would not be damaged by mistake.
âIt is ... Differentâ He admitted, cautiously reaching out for the fuel in case that was not the answer Magnus wanted but little digits were curling around it possessively once obtained and hugging it closer under his chin to sip from. Indeed, fuel was fuel. Magnus might be bigger than him, but donât try and take fuel from a Decepticon. It lead to jabbing, stabbing, or blaster burns.
âEveryone is disturbingly cheerful and vibrantly coloured, always smiling and greeting each other walking out of stores or down the street. I had someone offer me their seat on the transport line on the way here as I had wings and they did not which was ... Weird. But, aside that, aside some snide comments it hasnât really been all that bad?
My habsuite is small, but in a comfortable way. It is a little more roomy than the squadron quarters we got when on the front lines, but the lack of other occupants is rather ... I donât want to say upsetting, but it is odd having as much space as I do with no one else in it. I just tell myself it is built for a bigger mech and it takes the edge off.â
â...â A pause, looking down at the cube in his lap to rub his thumb through the condensation.
âI was ... I was actually coming here to ask if there was any ... Well, jobs? For someone like me? I know I am ... Was a Decepticon, so there is probably a long process or probation, Iâd understand that, weâve all done things during the war that would flag red in a background search, but ... Having something to do every day would also be rather nice than burning through my fuel on a couch watching the holovidsâ
     Peace was not so readly accepted by everyone â especially not when an individual did not have something to occupy their time. For Ultra Magnus it had not been such a difficult adjustment. Managing a city was not overly different than managing an army. The paperwork was almost identical aside from it being about population instead of troops. It was a welcome change. Simply because he was adept at fighting did not mean Ultra Magnus was not willing to, at long last, put it aside.
     Admittedly it helped that he continued to spar with other members of Team Prime and to assist in training a defense force. The war was over, but there were greater threats within the vast space of the universe than unruly Decepticon insurgents.
     âIâm glad youâve settled in, Seacrest,â Ultra Magnus said and he was grateful. For every Decepticon, Neutral, or Autobot who stayed meant he was providing them a safe place they wanted to stay. If he were being honest, at least to himself, he had not been certain the flighty seacon would stay. He was happy to be wrong.
     âActually, Seacrest,â Ultra Magnus pulled out a datapad from a secured drawer of his desk. âThere is something I require assistance with, but I want you to understand you have every right to decline my request. You wonât be punished for declining and we can find you another line of work.â
     Ultra Magnus set the datapad down, but hesitated for a moment. Realizing that Seacrest might interpret his pause incorrectly Ultra Magnus explained:
     âDurring the War weapons were created, great and powerful weapons, that might tempt any spark who happened upon them, but there has only ever been one that could taint an unwitting sparkâŚâ
     âThis assignment is strictly confidential. You will be forbidden to speak of it outside of myself, Databank, and the other members of Team Prime,â Ultra Magnus warned him. The truth was Ultra Magnus needed Seacrestâs specific help, but he would respect Seacrestâs decision. If he did not wish to take on the risk, or accept the responsibility, that was his choice. There was other work Ultra Magnus could offer him.
Peace was a little easier to accept if you played it off like shore leave. He was used to living from âOh hey! You lived!â paycheck to âOh hey! Youâre being deployed!â paycheck, so the fact energon was already a package deal to his living accommodations seeing as he had brought in a heaped cart of it as his accidental buy-in to society? But aside walking around the beginnings of the city, trying to work out what places he could get to and from if he was even contemplated as hiring material, pricking himself with his quills for a chill out session with the Knights of Cybertron, or browsing what the holovids had to offer, it left a big chunk of time still to burn. A job would be good. Just, having simple orders to follow or a routine.
Oh? Magnus had a use for him? That had his wings hiking up in delight at the chance he might be suitable for some sort of job! Even a mission! Datapadsâ stashed in desk drawers out of people unintended usually meant it was something time consuming!
Great and powerful weapons.
Strictly confidential
Forbidden to speak of it
Team Prime.
Oh. His first mission from Magnus! And it was a secret one! One that had him joining Team Prime! âIm in!â Seacrest grinned, scooting closer in his chair to show eagerness, that he wasnât declining the offer, and listening for more details.
âLemme guess. You want me to find these weaponsâ He must have done a really good job of impressing Magnus if he was letting someone with Decepticon ties try and find hidden weaponry from the peak of the war.
     Seacrestâs enthusiasm was commendable and Ultra Magnus could feel guilt tugging at his spark. It was true; he needed Seacrest for this mission because the weapon he sought was in the depths of Earthâs oceans. There was no member of Team Prime who could retrieve it and he did not want humans involved in the retrieval.
     There was no knowing if the Dark Star Saber could corrupt technology as raw dark energon did.
     Yet⌠Magnus did trust Seacrest. There was something about the earnestness of his behavior. Badges were simply symbols. Ultra Magnus did not require the eradicon, vehicon, or other Decepticon members to remove their emblems. Seacrest was an example where it was the mech Ultra Magnus looked at, not the badge.
     Nodding his helm in a solemn manner Ultra Magnus turned the data pad and offered it to the seacon.
     âFrom this point forward what we speak of is strictly classified. This mission will be undocumented. There will be no evidence that it ever existed. It is of utmost importance that you never speak of it outside of this office with myself, Databank, or Team Prime.â
     On the data pad was an image of a weapon. The user of the weapon was cut out, only a gray, clawed, hand gripping the hilt of the sword. Purple blade and black pommel. A sickly glow emanated from the jagged edge of the blade.
     âThe asset fell into the oceans on Earth,â Ultra Magnus explained. âI will give you coordinates to begin your search, but we were unable to properly calculate the trajectory as it fell to Earth. You will need to search the oceanâs depths.â
     âI need to stress that you are not to make contact with the sword,â Ultra Magnusâ voice attained a hard edge. âThis blade is made of a material known to corrupt any technology provided it has circuitry. From primitive technology, to dead Cybertronians. We do not know if the sword has the same abilities. It was never witnessed as having such, but the chances are still exceptionally high.â
     âThe branch of the human government that we are in contact with, will not know of your presence.â Leaning back into his seat, Ultra Magnus drew the hand with the claw attachment back to rest on the arm of his chair. As it stood things were tenacious with the human government. They wanted Cybertronian technology. Specifically, weapons technology. Ultra Magnus would not allow it, and so tension was high.
     âIf you find the weapon, you are to contact me immediately. I will have medical seal my frame so I might join you beneath the water. I would only be able to do so for a short time, but I have had a container made for the sword and⌠arrangements, to insure I will be able to meet you at the coordinates.â
     He sighed, air rushing out of vents, and closed his optics. For a moment Ultra Magnus was quiet, but after a time he looked back at Seacrest again.
     âIf I could, I would go in search of this weapon myself. It is dangerous. Even in the hands of someone who wished to do good, it would corrupt their very spark. That is why I do not want you, or anyone else, to handle this sword.â
     âKnowing all that I have told you, are you still willing to take on this assignment?â
Wings hiking up and fanning slightly in curiosity at Ultra Magnus flipping the datapad around and offering it out to him, and Seacrest was scooting up to the edge of his seat to take the datapad in little orange servos and examine what lay on the screen.
It was ⌠Clearly some sort of sword. The blade glowing as if made of the same neon tubing in bar signs, only more sinster rather than boasting a great time inside. But ⌠it was kinda weird that theyâd cropped out all but the curved claws of the wielder. However, as Magnus continued, talking about how it fell to Earth, and the express orders not to touch it under any circumstances, he was understanding now why by all records this mission had never been spoken of and would never existed.
âNot complaining. They are weird, and I am happy to do my thingâ They were so ⌠Creepy. Their protoform was on the inside, they could run, and jump, and climb, and while he might not be a car, it was kinda morbid to watch them sitting inside their stationary little slaves. Apparently, human constructed alt modes werenât even sentient! How messed up was that?!
Knowing all that I have told you, are you still willing to take on this assignment?
âOh, yeah, no. I am still in for it. Just. You say a medic is going to seal your frame so you can get to the sea floor. But exactly how much time is a short time. Any air in your frame is going to become excruciating in pressure depending how far down I find your sword, and its then the getting back to the surface part I am curious about. Or are you just, you know, going to step out of a space bridge down there?â Both were not ideal for a non aquatic alt mode, as Magnus stepping from one side of a âbridge where gravity and pressure is normal to the sea floor where every square inch beneath the surface increases in fourteen and a half pounds of hydrostatic pressure. His frame? Built for that. Ultra Magnus was a truck.
âIf I find it⌠Can i just throw it through a space bridge to you or something? Kinda donât want my first mission to kill my captain. Even watery swords isnât worth dying overâ
     Ultra Magnus frowned in thought, moving his optics from Seacrest to the other data pads arrayed in front of him. He had already run the simulations. Cybertronian alloy was not the same as the alloys used on Earth. Their construction was built to survive differing pressure variants and gravitational forces, but that did not mean a ground-based alt mode could necessarily survive on the sea floor. He had calculated a maximum depth to which he could withstand the pressure. He could not, for example, survive the deep trenches, but there were depths to which Magnus could dive to and still remain quite safe.
     In his research heâd been surprised to learn how far down a human could dive, though they had to be exceedingly careful in returning to the surface. If they rose too quickly, they could get âthe bendsâ or decompression sickness. Nitrogen bubbles form in their blood, causing minor to severe damage to their frames. Possibly deactivating them in the process.
     Seacrest had a right to be worried, and heâd said the same thing Databank had; it could kill Ultra Magnus if he dove too far. Yes, he was Cybertronian, meaning that his alt mode had nothing to do with the durability of his frame, but he still had limits. Seacrest was designed for deep sea exploration. While the little seacon may not appear intimidating on a surface battle, Ultra Magnus had no doubt he was exceptionally durable. It was still difficult for Ultra Magnus to relinquish control of dangerous missions. Heâd sent too many mechs to their deaths and he did not want to send any more on to reunite with the All Spark, but now he was no longer simply the Wrecker Commander. Autobot Supreme Commander, City Leader, and Leader of Cybertron. Lofty titles heâd never aspired to, now weighed on him, and held him back from missions he would prefer to preform himself.
     Courage, bravery, these things were never lacking in Ultra Magnusâ spark. The first on the front line. The first to step forward and volunteer for missions lesser mechs could not hope to survive. Military training, and many years of experience had placed him in a particular, and peculiar, position among the Autobot ranks. Had helped him turn the battle in their favor many times.
     Now all those years of service, of training, were working against him because he knew Seacrest was right to object. Right to point out that it would be best for Ultra Magnus to trust him.
     He did trust Seacrest. It was the sword he did not trust. He knew so little of its properties. The Autobots had only ever seen it wielded by Megatron to devastating effect. The blade had proven powerful enough to shatter the Star Saber, a weapon forged by Solus Prime herself.
     Ultra Magnus closed his optics and ex-vented. He would have no choice but to send Seacrest on this mission alone, without proper backup, to collect a sword that could corrupt his very spark. He had hoped his days of handing out dangerous assignments were over, but likely they were just beginning anew. It would only be on the rarest, or important, occasions that Ultra Magnus would be able to place himself in the line of fire. The Autobots, Cybertron, needed him. This was just yet another burden he would have to accept. He would continue to send mechs out into danger. Into death. It was part of his responsibilities. The part that he was well acquainted with, and the remainder of Team Prime was not.
     This was why Optimus had chosen him as SIC. Not because the others were not capable, but because they were not ready for this particular responsibility. Asking others to die while he remained safe. Sitting in an office.
     âYour objection is noted,â Ultra Magnus said at last, bringing his optics up to Seacrest. Funny how the little seacon had not said over-much on the subject, merely voicing his desire to keep his captain safe. Team Prime, and Databank, he expected to feel as such, but Seacrest had little reason to behave in the same way.
     âYou will not be able to throw the sword through the Ground Bridge,â Ultra Magnus continued, âbut I do have a case ready for the weapon once it is found.â He paused, and was looking Seacrest over, trying to decide. âIt will mean that you will have to handle the sword long enough to place, and secure it.â
     âAs previously stated, I do not know if the sword possesses the same capabilities as the material it was forged out of. Therefore, I would recommend handling it with care.â
     âOnce you find the sword, I want you to comm. me. Databank will secure an encrypted channel for us. This way if you have any difficulties, we will be able to lock onto your location and send a rescue unit.â
     Which would, he hated to admit, have to consist primarily of human military forces and complicate matters. Better that Seacrest not require any assistance. That would be optimal.
And those depths? If the calculations were true and he could chill out at certain levels of the sea floor, they could use them as a meeting point, even search together until it got to a point that Seacrest would need to carry the search into deeper waters, but at the end of the day? The fact this mission was so off books, if Seacrest never returned Cybertron would move on. Theyâd make the berth and have someone else living in that habsuite by the end of the month without blinking an optic.
Cybertron deserved the chance and the people to help it move forward. Unlike the mech across the desk from him, Seacrest was not that chance, or person.
But from the way Magnus seemed to give a harsh vent, almost sounding frustrated while at the same time helpless, Seacrest knew heâd made his point, and the underlying warning he would not be responsible for Ultra Magnusâs disappearance. So, Magnus could either let someone built for deep sea exploration of many planets do this mission, assisted over time if more aquatic frames arrived on Cybertron. While the Decepticonâs may not have won it, the fact of the matter was they were slowly returning. And he would not let the awe and delight of seeing the planet his kind originated from be tarnished knowing that he killed a Magnus.
But it looks like he won! Magnus was talking about transport cases for the sword, and encrypted comm channels from Datapad once he found it. Maybe Magnus was just going to sit on the beach with a cocktail after all. Honestly? He could probably use one. The more colourful and little umbrella garnished, the better.
âYessir!â Aw, bless his little cables. You got a salute, and wing hike. Heâs clearly excited for this, a chance to prove himself⌠Or a chance to just dive into something that wasnât the contaminated wasteland of the Pious Pools. Washrack soaking tubs just were not the same as an ocean. And signing up to work in an aquarium for that submerged sensation was not worth his dignityâŚ
     That salute. How many times had he seen it? Grizzled veterans and newly pledged recruits; eager to prove themselves. How many times had some of the Wreckers bucked at being required to offer a salute? More times than he could count and Wheeljack held the record in those regards. Yet here it was, being offered to him with sincerity. With the same eagerness as those recruits, but Seacrest was no newly formed Spark. Heâd survived the war. He was a tougher little seacon than, maybe, Magnus had been giving him credit for.
     Ultra Magnus studied him for a moment longer. Seacrest was a Decepticon. It made him curious, maybe a little hopeful, that he was walking the right path. Seacrest may not have been the most difficult mechs to work with. A berth, energon, and safety had been all heâd wanted â all any of them wanted, now that the war was over. How many more Decepticons were like him, out there? As tired of the war as they all were. Ready to simply return home, return somewhere safe?
     Ultra Magnus not fail them, or any others. He would make Cybertron safe again. Safe for all to return and he would do his utmost to ensure a new Council never came into power. No more roles, no more assigned placement within the planetâs infrastructure. Where would a little mech like Seacrest fit within such a rigid structure?
     With all those desires, reasons, and more, Ultra Magnus fully understood that â with a few exceptions â his days in the field were well and truly over. The other members of Team Prime would make excellent leaders one day, but for now they lacked the experience. Both in terms of military, and political, fields. Though in the last even Ultra Magnus himself was not properly educated, but he had some experience to fall back on. Hours spent with Council members, meetings with city leaders, always acting as head of security and Council guard. Heâd observed, learned from, as much as he could during his time serving.
     Ultra Magnus stood, and he returned that salute with one of his own.
     âThen you will begin immediately. You may keep the data pad I gave to you for the time being. It hosts coordinates, and the frequency you will be using to access the encrypted channel Databank has put together for this mission.â Ultra Magnus stepped out from behind his desk, and indicated that Seacrest was to follow him. âEarthâs oceans are quite large for such a small planet. As such I believe attempting to situate a âbase campâ would be foolish, and dangerous.â The key to an operation like this was never to remain in the same location for longer than strictly necessary. âSo, we will schedule supply drops, and you will supply the coordinates necessary. These drops will have to be made in shallow waters, or close to the surface of waters that are deeper where you might collect them.â
     âI have some supplies already situated for you so that you will not be arriving on the planet without any support. If you choose to cache these supplies somewhere, until the mission is over, I highly recommend that you do not relay their location. Databank is excellent at counterintelligence, and I trust his work, but there are still agents in the greater galaxy, and on Earth, that may yet still test his abilities.â
     âIf you require any medical attention, we will see to it prior to your departure, but if you are ready now then I will escort you to the Space Bridge to begin your assignment.â
Oh. Ultra Magnus wanted him to start right away? Heâd ... Kind of expected a day or two to prepare, but at the same time he was flattered Magnus thought him ready to start right away. Yeah. He was ready for this. This was no different than times heâd gone diving on wet worlds to pinpoint energon veins for excavation. Only his âveinâ was a little sword in the ocean ... Oh, Solas Prime. He was going to be like that earth legend! King Arthur! Finding Swords in lakes! Or, well, seas, but it still counted!
Oop, Magnus is standing and by the fact heâs still talking, Seacrest is expected to follow. Datapad slipped into his subspace and darting to keep stride with the mech, and Seacrest is listening intently at further mission details.
Right. So there were already supplies on site for him to stockpile or consume at his leisure. That was good to know he wasnât going in there blind. Trying to search the ocean for a sword while finding energon veins or deposits would only drag his search out far longer than required. And make him found faster by locals. Granted, he didnât believed they had any way of knowing he was down there given theyâd only explored around five percent of their oceans. Heâd be fine.
âOkay. I can give coordinates for drops. Out to sea would probably be safer if we donât want to be noticedâ He wouldnât even need to be at that precise location. So long as he could see it hit the surface, followed by whether it remained afloat or sank, heâd be a lot better at staying under cover for his mission than having to try and go from the utter depths to shore. All that back and forth travel would just drag on whereas coming straight up from the sea floor to the surface was easier on all parties.
âI think given you guys are dropping them for me, it would be a waste of Datapad having to encrypt messages if I then say where I have put them afterwards given I am the only one for now going to use those supplies. I will just message if I find somethingâ Datapad and Magnus better be ready for a lot of photos of all the things man had lost in the sea over the centuries. Statues, ships, planes, treasure.
Did he require medical assistance? Not really. He felt pretty dandy and his HUD didnât report any sort of breaches or damage that would need to be checked over. Heâd had his once over when he first arrived.
âShouldnât need a medic. Feeling pretty good, sir, and excited. I havenât been able to free dive for a long timeâ Show him how heâs getting to Earth! He is excited!
     The little seacon certainly seemed enthusiastic. Ultra Magnus could not help but question why. There was some suspicion, admittedly. You didnât live as long as he had and not be careful when things seem odd, but the enthusiasm was likely due to the location of the mission. Seacrest possessed a water-based alt mode. There was little need for such a thing here on Cybertron.
     Ultra Magnus adjusted his pace, shortening his stride so the smaller mech could better stay apace to him; listening quietly as Seacrest explained that he would prefer that they drop the supplies into the open ocean.
     âAs I do not believe the object has fallen into any of the deep trenches of Earthâs oceans, that should be alright. We will connect tethers to the drops, then, to better enable you to transport them and cache them. I can also pre-coordinate drops for you if that is what you would prefer,â it would allow for more radio silence, not giving anyone a chance to beat Seacrest to the locations if they were agreed upon before the little seacon left. It was a better method. It was how heâd handled things during land-based operations, but his limited knowledge of the oceans and the forces involved had led him to be cautious.
     He had also switched, now that they were no longer in the secured confines of his office, from saying âswordâ to âobjectâ. While there were a few individuals who would know, purely based off the location of the search, what he was looking for, they numbered among Team Prime primarily.
     âIf you were to come across any energon while you are beneath the ocean, I would also appreciate if you were to mark them,â Ultra Magnus continued, âwe do not currently have a means by which to mine it, but I would like to alert our contacts on Earth so they can better steer their own exploratory and military forces from those areas.â Energon, being highly volatile, and human weaponry and technology, being quite primitive, were a potent and potentially explosive combination. While they could not mine the energon, it would be best to ensure no one else stumbled upon it by mistake and triggered an explosion. From his readings there were many points in the ocean where the tectonic plates connected. An explosion at one of these points could have disastrous effects.
     For the remainder of the walk to the Space Bridge Ultra Magnus began to take down coordinates within the designated search zone, if Seacrest had to go out further, he might insist that he first return to Cybertron for a medical evaluation before continuing. Just to be safe. It gave Ultra Magnus time to realize that he would need to defer to the little sea-going mechâs judgement when it came to this operation. There was quite a lot he did not know, or understand about working in large bodies of water. Something, he decided, he would have to remedy if Seacrest chose to remain under his command. There may come a time where Ultra Magnus would have to make a choice, a decision, that could possibly put Seacrest at risk if he didnât know more.
     The Space Bridge was, naturally, quite large. Massive, really, in proportions compared to the Ground Bridge. Once the Autobots had situated themselves in Iacon they had built a Space Bridge to better facilitate travel back and forth to Earth.  While only sanctioned visits were allowed, Ultra Magnus had found himself traversing the distance far more often than heâd anticipated. Negotiations with Earthâs local governments was time consuming. For a more primitive race, their thirst for knowledge, and their curiosity, was insatiable. It was concerning how quickly they were able to assimilate new technology.
     âThe Space Bridge is designed to prevent atmosphere from crossing the event horizon on the other side,â Ultra Magnus explained, âhowever we have never tested to see if this would prevent water from entering as it is, strictly, not atmosphere. We can position it above the waterâs surface, but as you have more knowledge in this area, I believe it would be best for you to choose the coordinates from which you would like to begin your search.â
     âWhile youâre on Earth I would like an update on your status once every twelve hours over the encrypted chanel,â Ultra Magnus was sorely tempted to lower that time frame to six hours, but for any Cybertronian even twelve hours would fly by in what felt like a blink of the optic. Long-lived as they were, such short time-frames hardly registered in their systems. âAnd if at any time you feel you need to return, either to repair damage, or a need to remove yourself from the ocean for the time, comm. myself or Databank on the encrypted channel and we will send a bridge to coordinates you designate.â
     Ultra Magnus then gestured at a few crates, three in total, filled with supplies. âThose are ready for you to take with you, and we will drop supplies at regular intervals at the coordinates we agreed on.â He paused, then, and cast a considering gaze on the little seacon again, concern etched in his optics if not his face. It was a look only those whoâd known Magnus for quite some time would see, otherwise he looked his usual self.
     âSeacrest, if you encounter any others looking for the object, I want you to contact us immediately. Do not engage. Do not attempt to take the object from them,â Ultra Magnus did not believe there would be others searching, but it was a possibility, âwhile I do not wish to see this object fall into the wrong hands, I highly doubt it will function for anyone but its maker.â
     âIs that understood?â
Between the fact earth had a lot of cool things hiding on the sea floor, living and not, and the fact he could submerge in something more satisfying than a bath tub in his alt mode for that seeker like urge to fly, in his case, and he was also excited to be trusted with a mission of great importance. By Ultra Magnus himself! What wasnât to be enthusiastic about?
âMhm. Mhm. if we load me up with about a week or two worth of rations, that will give me time to scope out a âgridâ of likely places the sword will be, and drop points inside the areas i am searching like a clock so that drops are scheduled and preprogramed. Iâm pretty energon efficient given the ocean currents really does all the work for me, I just need to steer if I want to deviate.â A lazy way to go about it, but if it saves fuel, why not? Helped him on other planets.
Oh? He had a side quest to his main mission? Tag energon veins? That he could do with ease! He had preprogramed scanners for that very purpose and hopefully Magnus wouldnât mind a little sampling of said deposits to ensure that it was fit for consumption. It was a little satisfying to crunch the tiny little crystals, smaller the better.
Heâd seen a groundbridge before personally, seen ships pass through spacebridges, but to see one up close, to see that Magnus walking through on the tips of his pedes arms straight up wouldnât even come close to touching the outer rim at its highest point was awing. Damn. Autobots built big! No wonder the city was starting to sprawl. âI mean, science ainât my forte, but I imagine if you have atmosphere here, and the opposite end of the space bridge horizontal beneath the waves where there isnât one, the water should sit just outside the ... Uh ... Swirls and lightsâ Yeah, he wasnât sure what to call all the whoosh whoosh and flicker flicker going on. But eyyyy, look at those sexy crates of snacks ... Heâd really have to ensure he didnât overfuel just because he was bored. But between taking photos of weird little sea life and things Terranâs had just tossed in their ocean, it would pass the time till drops and meals.
Heâs already crouched and inspecting what the contents are with eager wing flicking, so thankfully the concerned stare was missed. Got it! Every twelve hours, report findings that are not flotsam or jetsam or little ocean critters. But hearing that if he encountered others, he was to disengage and report, and he was looking up at the fact he might have unwanted company for this ... If ... If they were Decepticons ... Where would his loyalty lie? Wasnât like Megatron had done anything personally for him unlike Magnus. Oof, that would be a tough decision to make if it occurred.
âYessir. Report every twelve hours, mark energon deposits, ping drop coordinates, find the thing and do not engageâ Easy orders to follow. Heâd probably forget a few in all the excitement when he got diving, but he was young.
       This was a side of Seacrest Ultra Magnus was not familiar with. Out of water, it seemed, Seacrest was moderately awkward, but once one got him on the subject of water-based missions he proved the intelligence Magnus suspected was hidden beneath the bubbly personality.
       Bubbly indeed, Ultra Magnus thought to himself in a moment of reflection. Team Prime, the younglings fresh from the All Spark, Allen, and even Seacrest himself were beginning to rub off on him. He would have never before described someone as having a âbubblyâ personality. Still, combined with his water-based abilities it was an apt description and Seacrest sounded as though he knew what he was talking about. It eased some of the anxiety Ultra Magnus had begun to feel. Compared to many of the ground crews he had sent into an alien planet Seacrest was going to be a lot safer. It was the very rare Cybertronian whoâs alt mode was capable of submersion in water. The Council could be very selective about appropriate alt modes and the Well was known to adapt the type of alt modes that emerged from it.
       Ultra Magnus would see that every need was met by any frame that emerged from the well. Grounder, Flyer, Seeker, Shuttle-based, water-based, beast, the alt mode would not matter. All would be accepted on this new Cybertron and he would seek to fill the requirements of their individual frames.
       âSeacrest,â his tone was the typical monotone, but there was an inclination there that suggested something else. Concern? Gratitude? So slight was the change it likely would go unheard. âI appreciate your willingness to assist me with this mission.â Yes, it was true he had no one else, but that didnât mean Seacrest had to agree to it.
       âWhen youâre prepared, weâll engage the Space Bridge.â
He wouldnât willingly admit or acknowledge his aquatic prowess when it came to navigating the ocean or even the potential knowledge of opening spacebridges underwater, chalking it up to âeh, probably a Seacon programming thingâ rather than mere smarts. Had to be! He was a dime-a-dozen guy, many like him out there just sporting different colours and serial numbers, nothing really all that special aside heâd picked a designation for himself and stuck with it. Some time with Magnus to learn being cold constructed in bulk wasnât a bad thing.
But of course he didnât have to do this mission. He wanted to! Because he wanted to show Magnus not only thanks for how heâd been treated, but to prove he was willing to be more than his faction. He may have been a Decepticon, but that didnât mean he had to be till he offlined. He could be ... Whatever this was. Thankful? Appreciative? A good person!
âReady readyâ Seacrest grinned, yanking the mesh netting of the crates taut to secure the buoy on top that once he got through the bridge he could pack into his alt mode, not exactly having doors or a boot if he was a truck to be loaded up with, and Seacrest was scooping up his first drop to trot on over to Magnus ready for the start of his mission.
... What was those objectives again? Oh! Yes. Find the thing, report in every ... something hours, and one more thing about disengaging .... What was it? Hm. No time to really dwell on that, there was his space bridge and the glorious image of waves just on the otherside.
âWish me luck!â Seacrest crowed, dashing for the swirl of light to leap out into the new world, instantly engulfed in saline and gone from view.
Mission status: Lets do this!
     With his final words, voice laced with excitement, Seacrest vanished through the bright swirling light of the Space Bridge, leaving Ultra Magnus looking after the little seacon. It was his only option to recover the Dark Star Saber. He had no other aquatic capable team, no Autobots had returned from the war or had been sparked that could handle the depths of Earthâs oceans.
     Once the signal came from Seacrest that heâd arrived, the Space Bridge was deactivated. The roar sputtering out with a final flare of energy before leaving the room quiet. A few tests on the secured commlink and then radio silence fell.
     It was the silence that always bothered Magnus. He was not a particularly talkative individual, but it was the lack of contact with his teams that distressed him. Would that he could shoulder their burdens himself. Place himself in harms way instead of ordering others to do a job that may very well get them killed.
     This mission, at least, held less risks than those he once ordered his Wreckers on. The possibility existed that other Decepticons would search the planet for any left-over weapons, or energon caches. Thankfully only those who were present during the final days of the war knew of the Dark Star Saber, and though it was a potent weapon it had not gained renown among the greater Decepticon population.
     âUltra Magnus,â Databankâs voice was calm in his audio receptor, âyou have a meeting in five minutes with Streamlineâs group regarding search patterns they would like to fly over the northern sector.â
     âIâm on my way,â he replied, turning his back on the bridge and exiting the cavernous room, his steps echoing both loudly and with a hollow tone as though they did not quite fit the path laid before him.
((Continued in Recovery: Seacrestâs Return. Takes place after drabble Lost then Found.))
A seacon out of water. Seacrest encounters Ultra Magnus in an old, abandoned, energon mine. On routine patrol Ultra Magnus now needs to decide what to do with the little âcon. He intends to make Cybertron a safe place for returning Autobots and Decepticons both. Maybe this little mech is a good place to start.
((Posts by @seacrestseaconâ in block quotes))
âWe dig dig dig dig dig dig dig in our mine the whole day through
To dig dig dig dig dig dig dig is what we really like to do
It ainât no trick to get fuel quick
If you dig dig dig with a shovel or a pick
In a mine!â In a mine! âIn a mine!â In a mine!
âWhere a million energon shine!â
He wasnât sure how many more songs about digging or being underground he could think of, but, hey! The little deserted hopper cart had a good pile of energon shards in it. Mostly what he could pick up off the ground or use the forgotten equipment laying around to dig out of the walls but, eh. Should hold him over for a few weeks once he washed them off and set about refining them.
Oh! Thatâs another one about digging!
âNow, I ainât sayinâ she a gold digger.
When Iâm in need! But she ainât messinâ with no broke fellas.
She take me money. Now, I ainât sayinâ she a gold digger.
When Iâm in need. But she ainât messinâ with no broke fellas.â
     Regular patrols included scanning for energon deposits and Ultra Magnusâ scanner had picked up on excavated energon. Downshifting Ultra Magnus slowed his speed and transformed; lifting his scanner up and moving it in a gentle arc to discern the direction he needed to move in.
     âUltra Magnus to Autobot Command,â he commâd in following standard protocol upon an energon reading. âMy scanner has picked up on an energon deposit. Possibly in process of being excavated by an unknown individual.â
     âCopy that Ultra Magnus,â Databank replied, his personal assistant whom helped coordinate the Autobots, âdo you require backup?â
     Ultra Magnus considered this. It was possible that this could be a trap. There were Decepticons, and some Rogue groups, that would take the opportunity to attack another faction. However Ultra Magnus looked at the reading again; it was not an overly large quantity of energon. If this was a group it was too little to properly fuel them. Therefore it would be more prudent to gather more information first.
     âNot at the current moment, Databank. I will leave the comm line active, please remain on stand by in case I require assistance.â
     âUnderstood Ultra Magnus, sir,â Databank replied promptly. Ultra Magnus approved of Databankâs mannerisms. He was proving to be an asset to Ultra Magnus and the work he was doing.
     Saying no more Ultra Magnus followed the directional cues from his scanner walking towards an entrance point that had once been an old mine. He stepped up to the entrance, turning so he could keep his back to the wall, and peered into the mine entrance. He did not immediately see any light, but he could hear a voice. It echoed and reverberated through the mine shaft reaching his audios and causing Ultra Magnus to furrow his optic ridge. Was that⌠singing?
     Ultra Magnus checked his scanner and adjusted his grip of it to his clawed appendage and transformed his good arm into his gun. It was not an ideal situation, but he was unable to transform the arm with the claw attached to it. If needed he could drop the scanner and use his claw as a fist, but for now he would keep the scanner.
     It was difficult to move forward quietly enough not to arouse suspicion. Ultra Magnus was not a light mech and he could not move with the necessary precision to be quiet. Instead Ultra Magnus moved slowly placing his pedes carefully so as not to shift any of the debris inside of the cave.
     It took some time, but Ultra Magnus finally made it to the crux where he could hear the sound of a mechâs voice singing and where the read-out told him the energon was. He slid his back along the wall and leaned forward enough to look around the corner. Optics whirred lightly as he adjusted his vision, taking in the sight of the mech and the energon cart. The mech was small and Ultra Magnus could not identify what type he was. His optics readjusted again, watching the way he moved, and took down notes which he added into a new file. No wheels and the wings he possessed did not look like those a Seeker would utilize. His frame bespoke of neither land or air, but Ultra Magnus had heard of those individuals whom utilized a water based alt mode. Was this the case with this mech?
     He was roughly vehicon size and while that was not an indicator of whether or not the individual would be a danger to Ultra Magnus he assessed the situation was safe enough for him to approach.
     âThis is Ultra Magnus, Autobot Commander,â Ultra Magnus announced himself. His voice was even, calm, and held a natural commanding air. âIdentify yourself.â
âBrothers of the mine rejoice!
Swing, swing, swing with me
Raise your pick and raise your voice!
Sing, sing, sing with me
Down and down into the deep,
Who knows what weâll find beneath?
Diamonds, rubies, gold and more
Hidden in the mountain store.â
Heâd found some choice pickings when it came to energon crystals when he got deeper into the winding caverns, having fired a neuroquill into the wall at each bend so he knew which way to turn to get back out and using his alt mode exploration lights to light up the world in front of him. Whoever had mined here must have pulled out before theyâd cleaned this one out. The lack of charge in any of the tools was a good sign of abandonment, but the fact the energon had slowly turned blue and glowed of its own accord in one spot was the absolute high light of his day.
But, with everything good, Seacrest was waiting for that little Tee Hee⢠from Unicron that would turn his day to slag. He was expecting a cave in, or an earth quake, or the energon to be a faux mineral (heâd taste tested, it was energon), so it was more just mining as much of the life fuel as he could before things all turned to slag. Of which, singing and swinging that pick at the wall making noise was not the best way to go when trying to be âsneaky beaky likeâ. Magnus was the perfect example of everything turning to slag and why you should be quiet in unknown mine shaft.
A totally undignified scream yelp at the sudden voice, twisting around with the pick raised like a bat and lighting Magnus up in the beams of his spotlights, and the little seacon was ever so subconsciously flaring his armour and fanning those two big wings in a I am scary! Back up! posturing. Oh, if this Autobot was here for his energon shards, his hard work, he was gonna pepper this guy with his quills and haul his payload out of here. He didnât care what rank they were. People who do the work, get the pay out. Could he bullscrap a title? To be big and scary too? Frag it, we are doing it.
â⌠Chief Customs and Quality Control Officer Seacrest. This area is off limits to the public due to an oxidisation leak in the tunnels and this fuel is contaminated. I am here to collect and dispose of it before it is ingested and sparks an outbreak of Cosmic Rustâ Damn, Seacrest. That was nice. You got this. Keep it cool. Be chill. Lean on the energon cart like those cool speedsters in movies. There you go. Nice.
  The scream from the mech was unexpected, but like with so many other things Ultra Magnus took it in stride. He did quickly readjust his optics once the mech turned around and illuminated the tunnel where Ultra Magnus was standing. He kept his back to the wall so he only peered around the corner. He would not make himself a larger target than necessary. Still he waited as the mech postured and got his senses about himself.
  Chief Customs and Quality Control Officer? Ultra Magnus narrowed his optics and furrowed his optic ridges. He had not heard of such an individual returning to Cybertron and the vast majority of individuals with such a specific title Ultra Magnus hoped would contact the command center. If this mech was indeed such a mech he could be quite useful, however there was a single component of what he said that did not add up:
  Cosmic Rust.
  Cosmic Rust was a epidemic Cybertronian colonies had fallen prey to a long, long time ago. It was what had brought about the closure of the Space Bridges and the breaking of communication with the Colony worlds. To Ultra Magnusâ knowledge Cosmic Rust had never made its way to Cybertron otherwise closing the Space Bridges would have been for nothing. The chances of it arriving here after all this time were small, but not impossible. Particularly as the planet had died shortly after the All Spark had been ejected out into the cosmos. If someone had traveled among the stars, contracted the dangerous virus, and returned to Cybertron seeking help, it was possible the contagion was on the planet. If it were it would be disastrous for their rebuilding efforts, but how did he know if this mech was who he said he was?
  Furthermore; oxidization leak? From where? The human Jack had come to Planet Cybertron in order to seek out Vector Sigma and was required to utilize a protective suit in order to breath on their planet. Then at a later date when the Decepticons had kidnapped all the children they had been forced into containment units for the same reason: They required oxygen to live.
  âOfficer Seacrest,â Ultra Magnus greeted, but he did not move from his position; the situation was highly suspect and Ultra Magnus was not a fool. âUnder the circumstances I am certain you would agree-â if he was indeed an officer of the class he was claiming - âwith Cybertron in a delicate and vulnerable position, it would be unwise to accept your statement without question.â
  âI request your identification number and the methods you are utilizing in order to prevent contamination with surround sources of energon and yourself.â
  What Ultra Magnus had seen past the glare of Seacrestâs light was a mech who was not using any equipment designed to prevent the contagion from infecting Seacrestâs frame. If there were contagions here in the tunnel then Seacrest would have quite possibly been infected. If what he said was true Ultra Magnus would be required to contact his own medics in order to properly quarantine the area and both Seacrest and himself. They would need to be properly sanitized before rejoining any other Cybertronian.
Oi. Whyâs this guy still hiding around the corner? You could butter him up with that Officer Seacrest title which was utter heaven on the audials, but this didnât add up. They clearly had the jump on Seacrest, both in size and probable artillery, so why werenât they making a move on the energon cart? If Seacrest was thirty feet taller and had that big boss voice, heâd be putting it to use every dang day of his life!
Heâd been expecting this guy to hear cosmic rust and oxidisation leak, salute with a quip of good work and bail out of the mine shaft like it was infested with scraplets. Not ⌠Hang around and ask for numbers and procedures! I mean, they seemed to be buying it by the questions but come on, mech. Skedaddle! Vamoose! Shoo! Heck off!
âWell⌠I am new to the job so I havenât quite memorised it off by spark. But! To answer your second question as I am a deep sea exploration vessel in alt mode, I am air tight. So, I am perfect for the job since nothing that is in the air or transmitted by touch can be passed on from me or infect me. Quite handy considering what is in stagnant bodies of water or seas. Of which, you should probably head back to the surface to decontaminate,â
Ooh! Big word! Good job Seacrest! No wait. Officer Seacrest.
â-since youâve been in contact with that wall and might have brushed against an infected energon vein. Doctorâs ordersâ Heâs just going to tap the little red medic plus symbol on a forearm for emphasis to please just leave so he can get some ding dang fuel! And give the cart a little wiggle to see how well the wheels sat on the tracks if he had to make a run for it and push the cart with him.
âAnd as for how I am going to dispose of the energon âŚ. Iâll just incinerate it?â Crap, that didnât sound professional enough!
âIn an incineratorâ Ey. Nailed it.
  Ultra Magnus frowned. The longer this Officer Seacrest spoke the more likely this was all a farce. It was standard procedure for an officer to memorize their identification numbers, furthermore if he was so new there was no means by which he should be handling a complicated matter such as Cosmic Rust on his own. More to the point: if he was ânew to the jobâ then Ultra Magnus likely would have assigned him to the position and he most certainly had not done so.
  âI see,â he said in an attempt to give himself more time, âthan I assume you are familiar with standard protocol regarding contaminates, pathogens, and other cybernetic bio-hazards along with the necessity to work in teams of two in order to periodically decontaminate yourself? I also trust you are utilizing proper containment gear in order to protect your frame as Cosmic Rust is transmitted through simple contact with Cybertronian armor?â Ultra Magnus was not uninitiated in regards to the threat Cosmic Rust could bring. Contact with oneâs armor was enough to spread the contagion and infect the host body.
  Ultra Magnust adjusted his stance only slightly in order to check back down the passage heâd come. It would not due to become careless and allow another individual to ambush him from behind, but the mechâs next words had him firmly believing this was all a ruse:
  Incinerating energon in an incinerator? Ultra Magnus wondered where in particular the mech intended to find a device capable of safely incinerating energon without causing a chain reaction. He turned his helm back to look once more at Seacrest and readjusted his optics and focused on a symbol he was finally able to make out: a red plus sign.
  So he was indeed a medic at the very least â at least that was what the symbol indicated â however anyone could have a red plus painted onto their frame. Medics were not so numerous as to be simply discarded during the war and therefore held value. Ultra Magnus believed he had a better sense of the situation, but it would be best to diffuse it without resorting to utilizing weapons.
The more Ultra Magnus spoke, the more he used those big scary words that Seacrest had little to no idea their meaning let alone strung together in a formal sounding sentence, the more those big wings seemed to droop down as his grasp on the situation shifted less and less out of his favour. He was loosing this battle of keeping the upper hand. But, maybe he could grab as many of the pieces of his shattered story and slap them together with glue again.
âAs I said, I havenât been at this job long enough to memorise my identification number with everything else I have had to learn in such a short time. I am of aquatic alt mode, I am airtight. I was picked for this job as I am physically incapable of rusting, be it from liquid based elements or Cosmic.â
But you are right in that regard. Anyone could paint a pair of red pluses on their arms if they thought on a battlefield with snipers theyâd get shot at a little less through mutual respect of  Donât Shoot The Medic. ⌠Or was it messenger? Oh, that was a really bad thought. Was it Donât Shoot The Messenger or Medic!? Frag!
âLook. Claw game. I get it. You got questions, I got answers, but right now I have a very big mine to clear out and a countdown with a lot of numbers missing since standing here talking with you, mate. I would really appreciate being able to finish the jobâ
Yep, back to swinging the pick at the wall to draw a little shower of energon crystal, stooping to scoop them up and put them in the cart beside him.
  This was a farce. The mech he was speaking to was not whom he claimed to be. Perhaps he was a medic. Perhaps not. Ultra Magnus was certain now as âOfficerâ Seacrest insisted he had not been on the job long enough to memorize the necessary codes. Though Ultra Magnus was no expert in such an area he did know that a 'rookieâ such as this would not be allowed out on the field alone.
  âWho is your supervisory officer?â Ultra Magnus questioned. It would not due to allow the mech to know he had given himself away, nor pointing out that had Seacrest been part of any officially sanctioned job Ultra Magnus would have been his supervisory; provided it was a job with the Autobots stationed in Iacon. âIt is against regulations and irresponsible to allow a mech who is incapable of giving me his identification numbers to work a contaminated site without supervision and without proper mining equipment. Utilizing a primitive tool, such as that, has the capacity to incur a chain reaction within the energon veins.â
  If the Decepticons, or any other rogue groups, had mechs out harvesting energon crystals under the guise of quarantining off sections due to 'Cosmic Rustâ it could cause mass panic.
  Stepping forward just slightly Ultra Magnus moved backwards by one, two steps, and turned so he could properly bring his blaster to bare on the mech down the mine shaft without providing a large target himself.
  âFurthermore Cosmic Rust attaches to any Cybertronian Alloy, regardless of alt mode or the mechâs ability to remain 'air tightâ. Cosmic Rust is more a pandemic than a simple outcome of ill repair.â Ultra Magnus did not want to engage his weapon, that would be a poor choice in this situation, but he did not believe this mech was as knowledgeable about energon mines as he claimed to be. Ultra Magnus decided that it was time to sweep away the illusion the mech was trying to cast.
  âIf your intent is to frighten me it has obviously failed. If your intent is merely to harvest the energon for yourself that can be negotiated.â Ultra Magnus finally disengaged his weapon, but he did not come out. Just because he wouldnât shoot did not mean the other mech was safe. It was, however, what Optimus would have done. The energon of planet Cybertron belonged to no single mech or faction. It was the life blood of the planet, and of the Cybertronian populace.
  âI will reintroduce myself. I am Commander Ultra Magnus. Leader of the Autobots. City Leader of Iacon.â
  Ultra Magnus was by default, and due to the Autobots winning the war, the acting leader of Cybertron itself, but that was not a title he wished to give himself. He would act as such for now, but he would not seek to glory in it.
If your intent is to frighten me it has obviously failed.
Pick skimming the wall with how quickly the wind was taken out of Seacrestâs sails, to hit the floor as the hilt slipped from his fingers, and he was whirling around to reface Magnus, noting the odd position of their arms seconds before his HUD screamed blaster!
Seems the gig was up. His bluffs had been called, there was no Cosmic Rust, and suddenly they had gun aimed at him.
So he was after his energon in the first place! Leading him on with kind words and that Officer Seacrest talk!?
A soft series of clicks, a faint hum, and little fractals of purple light dancing across Seacrestâs arms and chassis as his neuroquills activated, and he was ducking low with the energon cart for cover.
Not today, good sir, not to day. Heâd been hacking away for days to get this much energon. This mech, this Ultra Magnus, was not getting so much as a crystal from him!
âOh yeah, mate? Alright then. Lets talk about negotiations since you know as well as I do this place ainât infected.â
Maybe he could pull this cart along as a shield. Maybe give it a nudge and use it to ride down the tracks away from Magnus. Even push it the other way to remove that wall of the cavern he was using for their own shield. Think. What did he have on hand?
He  had his quills, that could buy him some time.
Some deep sea detonators for shifting rubble.
And probably some salt water still in the engines of his alt mode he could spray.
Eh. Worst he could do was give em some rust troubles in a few days with that last one.
âCause I really donât care for your ruling title, my leige. This isnât Iacon, mate, nor in its districts because I checked. Energon much like Cybertron belongs to those who need it. And, I need it. Mister Leader of the Autobots probably has fuel brought to him in a silver cube. Me? I got a pickaxe and determination. So, how about, we go back to that lovely truce we had when you were in your throne in Iacon and I was happily singing to the caverns to pass the time? That was nice. No one had weapons pointed at each otherâ
  Theatrics, Ultra Magnus abhorred theatrics. It was proper to introduce oneâs self in a manner that could not be confused. He did not believe in subterfuge. To not name himself as he had could lead to difficulties in the future. Unfortunately it would seem his usual preference of proper identification had backfired on him this time. The mech with which he was speaking was argumentative and disrespectful. Not unlike many of the Wreckers he had managed in the past; though many of them had come to respect at least his military leadership. What concerned him more-so was the fact he had disengaged his weapon which had previously been pointed at the mech. Granted it was dark inside of the mine, but darkness was not so much a factor for Cybertronians as it was for organics.
  It was at times like these Ultra Magnus allowed for a bit of silence to span. The jabs, the insults, none of them would so much as flake his paint. When it came to creative insults no one topped the Wreckers; though it was the first time he was accused of sitting on a throne. Quite the oxymoron considering Ultra Magnus was currently out on patrol, down in a mine, in order to assist in the rebuilding of Cybertron.
  Perhaps this called for a change in tactics.
  âIs it tradition to sing whilst mining energon?â he questioned. Ultra Magnus had never been part of an energon mining crew. While he did not believe manual labor beneath him, indeed it was a much simpler task to preform for a mech who considered himself merely a soldier, but often his position within the leadership prevented him from moving among those he commanded as much as he would like. He knew little by way of the social expectations among different workers. He wished to eventually better educate himself about the different work enviroments so he could insure that all of them were fair and, most importantly, safe. He would not allow for mining accidents to happen purely due to carelessness as they had back during the caste system. During the caste system mechs whom preformed these tasks were considered expendable. It was something that would be changed. Safety regulations, communications systems, and safety equipment, all of these things needed to be properly implemented.
  Whether Seacrest was a miner, or not, prior to the war Ultra Magnus was uncertain, but he had no wish to cause a fight in an enclosed space. That and he believed there was a reasonable chance he could negotiate.
  âI have no intentions of robbing you of your hard work,â he spoke clearly, âyou are correct that the energon of Cybertron belongs to all Cybertronians. Though I might point out utilizing a pickaxe may not be the most efficient, or safest, way of harvesting it.â Ultra Magnusâ goal was to try and properly integrate all Cybertronians back onto Cybertron with as little fighting as possible. Perhaps this would be his first test as he had yet to encounter a mech who was quite this defensive. Those he had encountered so far had been, unsurprisingly, Autobots or newly sparked individuals from the Well.
âIs it ... No! It ainât tradition to sing while mining!â Seacrest scoffed before pausing, wondering why it was he would sing at all down in caverns like this. â... I just like the echoâ He eventually admitted.
Maybe, maybe because that echo bouncing back made you feel less alone if you could turn it into a duet, pretend you still had a squadron who hadnât all gone on to do their âdreamsâ after the war ended and Cybertron began to flourish again. Maybe, maybe it was because singing made the world a little dark and miserable all alone in a big abandoned energon mine.
âOooohoohoo. Ainât someone the comedian. Pickaxes arenât efficiant or safest for harvestingâ Seacrest parroted, scowling over the cart at Magnus with arms folded on its edge to glower. âBut you know the bestest most wonderful part about abandoned energon mines?" That statement wasnât dripping in sarcasm. âIs that no fragging tool in this entire network of tunnels or caves as a single charge left in their power cords. No drills, no machines, no laser blasters. Not even the tracks for the mining carts have enough oomf to flicker. So, yeah, I gotta do it all manual labour way with elbow grease and a can of Toughen-Upâ
Of which.
âSo, am I good to keep mining and or leave, since you ainât taking my work, or are you gonna point a blaster at me for having some stranger danger senses in a big empty cave where there is no backup?â
      Ultra Magnus was not a practitioner of the âcounting to tenâ technique in order to maintain a hold on oneâs temper. Either you were in control of your temper or you were not, but it was during times like these where Ultra Magnus could admittedly see the benefit of such techniques. Seacrest was â how would Kup have put it? Ornery? Regardless he was showing little respect and remained abrasive. He had not asked his question in an attempt to insult Seacrest, but out of a desire to understand better how well set-up the mech was. If he was lacking in equipment and backup it was highly unlikely he was working with an underground Decepticon â or resistance â movement. Likely he was on his own if he was utilizing equipment from inside a long dormant mine. That also brought Ultra Magnus to the conclusion there was little chance the mech had working equipment to refine the energon into a safe fuel source.
      Deciding against his better judgement Ultra Magnus lifted his hands â or rather his hand and the claw-like device serving as a hand â and stepped out from where he had kept the bulk of his form hidden from attack. It was a risk, but one he thought worth the gamble. He remained still long enough for Seacrest to see that he held no weapons and slowly nodded towards the pick the mech had been using.
      âPerhaps instead of trading barbs and insults,â Ultra Magnus began in the same monotone he held with most of his conversations, âwe can instead talk about a trade for your raw energon at a fair one to one ratio. If youâre forced to utilize such antiquated mining equipment I cannot imagine you have a working energon refiner. Instead I can trade you the same amount of refined energon as you would receive from the energon youâve mined.â
      Lowering his hands Ultra Magnus remained far enough away to give Seacrest the space necessary to make whatever decision he felt he needed. Though he hoped they could work together Ultra Magnus did not dismiss the idea that he may well be attacked. If that were to happen he would need to reassess his choice in patrolling on his own. It would not work well in the Autobotâs favor if their leader, de facto though he was, were to be taken out by a rogue or captured by an enemy force. That Ultra Magnus recognized these weaknesses and continued to patrol on his own at times instead of in a pair made his spark uneasy. He greatly preferred to lead by example, but the chances of individuals, or even small groups, seeking him out to make terms greatly lessened if he was with another individual. Heâd run the simulations and ratios himself. He would be more successful going out solo as often as he could afford.
      âIâm not interested in fighting or stealing your energon,â Ultra Magnus said calmly, âI and my team are more than capable of finding, mining, and refining our own. Rather I hoped, perhaps, we could offer assistance to you. The war is over. Thereâs no reason to squabble over resources; especially not with Cybertron still recovering from its long dormancy.â
Quills up and ready to fire when Magnus stepped out, wings flared and plating bristled ready to throw down if Magnus moved for the offence but the bigger bot just seemed to ... Stand there. It wasnât surrender, but they seemed to be all out of steam. No gun. No blade. Just servos raised and looking thirty years older in the gloom.
â... Sooo, I give you my cart of raw energon crystals, and you will just give me the same amount of refined fuel it is worth? Like ... For free??â When did that ever happen?
But the more they stood there, quiet and calm, the more they spoke, the lower those neuroquills began to dim and the forearms aiming them pointed back at the ground. Wings dipping neutrally and plating slicking down around his frame, and Seacrest was bobbing his helm from side to side in thought as he processed that.
Claw Game here was right. The war was over and there was no reason to go scrounging for resources individually when they could instead pool them together to benefit everyone. An ... Odd conclusion to the little seacon but, hey, when in an Autobot run Rome, do as the Romanâs do.
âAlright. Iâll give this offer of yours a go. A berth and actual fuel sounds pretty good. But, if I donât like it, I am taking my energon here and leaving, okay?â
      âYes,â Ultra Magnus said simply. That was how it worked with the team he had put together. You do your work and you were supplied with energon and accommodations. Eventually, once a standard currency was established, Ultra Magnus wanted to properly employ monetary gain into the work done. It would be imperative to have some kind of structure to the workforce to use as a blueprint for future changes to Cybertron. No one wanted the Caste System to return therefore it would be necessary to install a different institution.
      Ultra Magnus refocused himself on Seacrest who seemed to be calming down. The odd quills on his arms dimmed and relaxed, armor slipped back into place from its agitated state, and his arms lowered. Taking this as a sign that tensions had eased Ultra Magnus too lowered his arms, but remained rigidly straight â there was no excuse for bad posture â and waited until Seacrest spoke to do anything more. It was a test of patience, but Ultra Magnus had plenty and rather suspected he would have to accumulate more as the rebuilding process continued. Smaller instances like these would be excellent reference material when he had dealings with the Decepticons and Neutrals in the upper hierarchy of their respective factions.
      When Seacrest finally spoke he both agreed to Ultra Magnusâ offer, but also threatened to leave if he didnât like the way things were. Ultra Magnus resisted the urge to frown or to raise a single optical ridge; this was not the first time a younger mech insisted on asserting his independence and offering any variety of ultimatums. Heâd been told by younger mechs that they would transfer out of his unit, that they would âsplitâ, or âgo their own wayâ. It was an insubordinate streak in the younger members of his teams that had both infuriated him and eventually turned them into excellent soldiers provided they survived long enough.
      It had taken the entirety of the war â and time spent with Team Prime â to teach Ultra Magnus how important it was to have independent, and creative, thinkers on your team and particularly those members who would question your judgement when they were concerned.
      âIf the situation does not suit you that is your decision to make,â Ultra Magnus agreed, âbut I will warn you that there are rules and laws to be followed. The populace within Iacon is a mixture of Decepticon, Autobot, and newly sparked Cybertronians. As such I tolerate no fighting, stealing, or harassment based on faction or former faction. You are, of course, permitted to defend yourself, but killing is strictly against the law. If you have a grievance against someone you are to bring it to either myself or one of my assistance and we will help you resolve it.â
      âI understand this might not fit for some individuals, particularly those of another faction, to have an Autobot in charge,â Ultra Magnus admitted. It had certainly caused a few problems, but nothing that couldnât be handled with some patience and discussion. âSo I will understand if it becomes uncomfortable. Either way I am still willing to trade your unrefined energon for its equal in refined energon.â Then simply because Ultra Magnus rather suspected this mech hadnât properly refueled for quite some time he reached into a side compartment in his chest and removed an emergency ration of energon.
      âI canât expect you to trade not knowing the quality youâd be receiving, of course, so take this,â he said walking slowly closer with the flask offered out.
Wait? So this mech just comes on in here, gun up and cutting his lies to ribbons, then just expects him to hand over his hard work for free energon!?
âWell, sign me the frag up for drinkable energon. Iâve been sticking the occasional crystal in my cheek to chew on for, like, two daysâ Seacrest grunted, leaning in on the little cart to push it closer to Magnus along its tracks to flop against its rim at how heavy this thing was.
âI mean, I am going to be on the level with you, Claw Game, I really donât care who is in charge so long as I get full tanks and no one shooting at me. Oh, and a berth. Ohhhh I have missed berths. Sure, there is a lake nearby you can chill on the bottom of overnight but I had to break the coating of ice to get out this morning and that ... was .... uhâ Heâs just, moth to a flame on that offered flask, little servos slowly reaching out afraid Magnus was going to pull it out of reach or put it away in jest.
But oh, oh when Seacrest got his servos on that flask he was tipping it up like a mech possessed and downing the entire thing like a scull challenge at Macadamâs Oil House. One moment, full flask. The next, empty and Seacrest practically wedging his glossa into the neck trying to get any dregs inside with a flutter of his wings in delight at his HUD reading of his tank jumping from orange aaaaall the way up to green.
Full tanks!
âYou are ... You are like the worldâs best Autobot. You deserve a gold Autobot badge.â He looks positively drunk with that goofy little smile of satisfied tanks.
  Two days? Ultra Magnus frowned. Autobot systems were by and large more efficient than the majority of organic systems, but even they required a daily refueling. Still it was better than simply giving up. It took a stubborn mech to continue forward with nothing more than a bit of energon crystal to fuel himself with.
  That didn't mean â despite the show of pushing and forcing the cart closer to himself â that Ultra Magnus was going to allow this mech to continue to be disrespectful. It would be best if he explained a few of the rules ahead of time so that Seacrest understood that some of his attitude would not be accepted. Particularly not his use of the nickname 'Claw Game.' Ultra Magnus was not embarrassed by his makeshift appendage, but nor did he want it brought up in such a manner.
  So he waited. Waited until Seacrest had drank down the energon that was in the emergency flask. Waited as he spoke his praises and then simply nodded his head to the compliment and straightened himself up.
  âThen I shall be upfront with you, Seacrest. There will be general rules, or laws if you wish, you must follow if you want to live with us. They are not difficult to remember,â though Ultra Magnus wished he could establish a proper protocol within Iacon City at this time it would be too much. Rules and laws built upon the notion of how a city would write them rather than a military installment was the wiser course of action.
  âThere is no brawling, fighting, or any other physical altercations allowed within the city, unless you are attacked and are defending yourself; obviously this means assault and murder are. Everyone does their share of the work and is given their share of the energon. Shifts are divided up evenly. No one mech does less work than another.â Ultra Magnus adjusted his posture just a little, standing a tad straighter if that were possible. Hopefully he was not intimidating the other mech, but he felt these were pretty basic rules to follow. Later if Seacrest decided to stay they could be a bit more strict.
  âAnd while it is not, strictly, a law, you will be expected to show respect to others. We have many different types of individuals, including Eradicon and Vehicon from the Decepticons. They are not to be treated as a 'lower caste'. They are individuals and deserving of the respect you would show any mech with a spark.â
  âI will also make this one distinction in respect: I prefer to be referred to as Ultra Magnus, or when the situation calls for it: 'sir'. I will not be the only mech who has lingering damage from the war and some will react poorly towards nicknames based around those injuries.â It was a testament of how he had changed. Ultra Magnus at any other time would have expected everyone to refer to him with the honorific 'sir' after his name. Ultra Magnus recognized the need for change. Even if it meant doing away with proper formalities for those in the chain of command if the situation allowed it.
  âIt also goes without saying that stealing from one another is prohibited.â Knowing this, are you still willing to come to Iacon? As I said previously; if nothing else I am willing to trade your crystal energon and with the equivalent energon in processed form.â
A low groan at Magnus apparently being âupfrontâ with him, sprawling against the edge of the cart with his helm resting on the mined crystals at hearing all these stupid requirements and regulations of being able to come back with him let alone staying after his crystallised energon was processed into a consumable liquid form.
â... Not to poke or nothing since my vocabulary ainât as fancy as yours, but I kinda zoned out around the fact of isnât brawling and fighting the same thing? You just said fighting twice. No fighting, no fighting, and no physical .... Physical ... alterations? Do you really think I just actively murder people because my insignia is purple not red? If I wanted easy energon Iâd go siphon it from someone. But no, the fact I was an M.T.O for the Decepticonâs automatically makes me unstable and violent and I guess an aggressor because I didnât get the good olâ red badgeâ
âAs far as I my programming tells me, it wasnât the Decepticonâs who chose who or what defined as the âlower casteâ now was it? What was the phrase? âEvery shape has its purposeâ? I have heard the horror stories, Ultra Magnus, Sir. People got bumped off because they were datapads, pens, lamps, cars, planes, trains, jets. If it wasnât as flashy or useful as the Council wanted you got ordered in for assessment of your place in the big olâ scheme of things.
So, can you assure me it wonât the little seacon cannon fodder whoâs alt mode is a fish is going to be the one assaulted? Because I donât know about you, but fighting and âbrawlingâ, fighting mentioned twice, and stealing, was far from my list of things to do in following you.
I was more focused on the idea of someone offering me a berth and two means of energon than any of the stuff youâve mentioned. I just want a roof over my helm, full tanks, and a pillow. Just because I am depicted as a bad guy does not make me a bad guyâ
        One optic ridge slid higher than the other on Ultra Magnusâ facial plane. Seacrest was not incorrect. By pure definition the way he had described various methods of physical engagement they did break down to âfightingâ, howeverâŚ
        âAfter leading the Wreckers for millions of years,â he explained, âI have learned the importance of being specific in my definitions. For Wreckers violence can be a sport, a manner to enact revenge, or a method of settling arguments. As I have no doubt there will be others returning from the war with an itch for battle still tripping their servo motors it is necessary to remain specific in my expectations of them,â brawling was sport, fighting/attacking was a way to achieve revenge, and physical altercations were methods by which to settle an argument. By making all three prohibited it meant there was very little wiggle room. There were too many soldiers under his command who would utilize every loop hole, dodge every obstacle he put in their way, to do what they wanted. Ultra Magnus had learned to be thorough.
        He decided that ultimately standing here and talking would not get them closer to Iacon, or to getting this mech to a medic to ensure that his systems were not suffering from a lack of energon. So he stepped forward in a slow and non-threatening manner in order to take over the pushing of the energon laden cart. Ultra Magnus also took the moment to analyze the otherâs accusations. The Decepticons had not been above propaganda, nor for that matter had the Autobots. One of Megatrons arguments was that the Autobots were siding with the Caste System wanting to keep to the status quo. It seemed the argument for this mech was one that was very important to him and ultimately Ultra Magnus had to agree. For a seafaring individual the caste system was a death sentence.
        Ultra Magnus had distinguished himself prior to the caste system. Back when barbarians ravaged the country side. Many did not know how old he was and Ultra Magnus was not given to regaling younger mechs with stories of his past. His was a large, heavy frame, and had he emerged during the height of the Caste System he may have been one of many sent to the mines. That he was older, had shown his merit, and had led him to become a chief security officer. Knowing that he would not begrudge the little seacon his anger; the anger was justified, but the judgement was misplaced.
        âOptimus never intended to allow the Caste system to continue,â he said and began pushing the cart, having to raise his voice over the noise it made. âAnd I have no intentions of reinstating it.â He continued to push the cart for a moment more without further comment. Words were not his specialty. He was not taken with great speeches or inspiring words of wisdom. Ultra Magnus was a blunt, straight forward mech, honest to the spark. He was also a fierce warrior, a commander, and strategist. That did not mean he felt he could leave the smaller mechâs last question unanswered.
        âThe rules I have told you,â he began, âhave been put in place and will be enforced upon everyone. Autobot, Decepticon, or Neutral; the war is over. I rather suspect it will take eons more to allow badges and allegiances to change to a united front, but be assured: I will not allow anyone to hurt you and go unpunished. The rules will be enforced no matter the badge, allegiance, or leaning. If an Autobot attacks a Decepticon under the pretense that they are a Decepticon and therefore the âenemyâ or they have a vendetta against all Decepticons, they will receive the same consequences as a Decepticon attacking an Autobot, or a Neutral attacking either faction, would receive.â
        Ultra Magnusâ voice was intense, but never raised further in volume. Solemn and filled with weighty responsibility; to lead meant you must act as the ultimate example. You had to be fair. That meant he may well make enemies amongst those he considered comrades during the war, but if he was going to be a City Leader, if he was going to help lead Cybertron itself into a new eraâŚ
        Well, he was not unused to being despised by those he led.
        âAs I said before,â he repeated, âif at any time you wish to leave, you may.â
Folding his arms tightly against his chassis with a frown and irritated little flick of his wings, and Seacrest was following behind Magnus happy to not be the one pushing the energon cart for once. Heâd felt it slowly getting heavier with each armful of crystals he tossed in. I mean, sure, there was probably some basic rock in there too, but it was dark and he was entitled to a few mistakes.
Still, Magnus seemed to have a pretty good system of keeping the rules fair. Besides, if anyone tried to attack him, heâd just hit them with a neuroquill and call the authorities to clean up the mess. And by mess, he meant the drooling mech on the ground with a vibrant purple spine sticking out of plating. Heâd done all the work!
âI mean, on one hand I feel like I should say ânoâ. But on the other hand, youâve talked up all this stuff about peace and prosperity and refining energon and the fact you have berths. So ... Pro list is outweighing the Con list. Beside, as you said, I can leave at any time I am not satisfied.
...
So uh ... How far away is said city?â Cause he didnât exactly have the wheels or wings for long distance. Hopefully, Magnus was not bias and assumed he was a seeker from his wings.
     For Ultra Magnus it was not difficult to push the cart laden with Energon. His was a larger frame type, designed for heavier workloads. Had he not emerged all those many years ago, led the Wreckers against the bandits and been inducted into the security force may have been sent to be a laborer. Heâd honed his intelligence and strategies leading that rag tag group against bandits for a long time. Without experience he would not be the mech he was today. It was why he agreed that the caste system was wrong. Experience changed all individuals, could change them to be better suited for jobs those within the leadership would never consider them for.
     âI cannot promise peace and prosperity,â Ultra Magnus clarified. He wanted that point clear. He would enforce the laws and rules he was building Iacon on, but that was all he could promise. There wasnât a leader, politician, military commander, or otherwise that could promise peace and prosperity. âThe war has only recently won. Itâs still possible that fights could break out as individuals and groups arrive to the planet.â
     âI have no intentions of forcing anyone to fight if that should happen,â he explained. Ultimately his hope was if he could provide a safe home, a place where people could live, they would be willing, at least, to protect it if it got attacked unprovoked. It was not a generous thing to plan on, but Ultra Magnus was ultimately a pragmatic mech. Team Prime was still too small to protect an entire city.
     Ultra Magnus pushed the cart the last few meters up and out of the mineâs entrance. It took a good, hard, shove to get it past some of the debris that had littered the entry way, but he managed it simply enough. Once outside he stopped and stood straight giving the area a quick sweep.
     âWeâll be using a ground bridge,â he told Seacrest. Ultra Magnus could transport both Seacrest and the energon, but it would be an awkward arrangement. Thankfully it wouldnât be necessary.
     âDatabank,â he reached up and touched the side of his helm, âplease conduct an area scan and send a ground bridge.â
     âYes sir,â was the simple reply and no more than a few moments later an event horizon opened up in front of them and Magnus waited for Seacrest to enter first. A commanderâs first duty was to enter the battle field at the lead of an operation he led, and to be the last one to leave the battlefield in order to cover his troops. Some habits were impossible to break.
     âDatabank will be waiting for us on the other side,â Ultra Magnus explained. âHeâs formerly an archivist and has never seen a battlefield.â Heâd said this because heâd noticed how jumpy Seacrest was. It would not be unlikely that heâd suspect a trap on the other side. Ultimately Databank was a harmless individual, but invaluable because of his skills.
     âIâll introduce you both properly once we arrive.â
With a big shove and creak of the massive mech before him, Seacrest could actually peer into the cart in the natural lighting and have a look at his handiwork... Some of the bigger chunks still had bits of rock on the outside, while some were just rock bits themselves, but all in all? Not a bad haul for one little fish with a flat battery plasma pick.
But, at least upon getting outside Magnus didnât find himself without âCon or cart as Seacrest sprinted off, or struck from behind to steal the cart. Nope. Just Seacrest standing possessively near his cart at the talk of ground-bridges and someone called Databank, which didnât sound all that intimidating, probably a nerd, but then again, his name wasnât all that fear inducing either.
Best way to check for a trap? Hefting one of said cart rocks, and Seacrest was baseball throwing the stone right through the swirling maw of light and ducking down behind the side of the cart.
Five seconds? Wings perked back up.
Ten seconds? He was peeking up over the edge at the space bridge.
Twenty? Okay, he was dusting himself off like he hadnât just made a paranoid fool of himself.
âLetâs get this through the bridge thenâ A servo on the edge of the cart, not that he was letting go until safe on the other side, and he was charging his neuroquills in the other arm ready for confrontation on the other side.
Sorry Databank, but if you got too close to him or his cart you might just find yourself with a neuroquill sticking out of your shoulder or chassis, and out of commission on a colourful little trip for a couple of kliks. Nothing some fuel and sitting down wouldnât fix, but no touchie the cart.
     A rock. Ultra Magnus blinked and watched as the little seacon ducked down next to the cart as though expecting the ground bridge to explode. Ultra Magnus merely stood by, watching Seacrest peeking up over the edge of the cart for a period of time before getting up and dusting himself off. What had he expected to happen?
     Deciding commenting on it would only cause trouble Ultra Magnus simply nodded to Seacrestâs statement about going through the bridge. He pushed forward; forcing the cart to begin moving once again with a shriek of metal.
-
     On the other side of the bridge standing at a control console was Databank; a silver and black Autobot with blue biolights dotting up and down his abdominal plating. At eighteen feet tall he didnât measure among the tallest autoboots, but he was also a non-combatant. Formerly an archivist of Iacon Databank had returned to Cybertron shortly after the defeat of Unicron. Naturally Unicronâs presence, and his captured anti-spark within the Reliquary of the Primes was strictly top secret. The Autobots had hidden the reliquary so no one might see fit to tamper with it and release Unicron. Not even Databank, serving as Ultra Magnusâ personal assistant, knew of it.
     Ultra Magnus nodded his helm to the mech as he and Seacrest exited the ground bridge and Databank shut down the event horizon. Magnus let go of the cart and stepped around it so as to stand between the two, but off to the side slightly so he could introduce them.
     âDatabank I would like to introduce Seacrest,â Ultra Magnus said, âheâll be staying with us for a time. Seacrest this is Databank; my assistant.â
What had he expected? Well, honestly he expected from the moment something passed through the spacebridge for it to either explode or blasterfire to come pew pew!ing out of the swirling vortex at the poor idiot who stepped through it. Better a rock, than his snuffed spark.
Still, he was going to dust himself off and pretend he didnât just throw a rock through a space bridge and dive behind an energon cart as he followed Magnus through the bridge.
âHuhâ Well, this was swanky. Lookit at all those screens and consoles and a glowy glowy mech tapping away at all of them.
Oh! Play it cool.
Leaning a hip against the cart, arms folding across his chassis and Seacrest was regarding the assistant with dimmed optics. Was he cool? Was he nonchalant? Was he aloof?
âHeyâ Did he just lower his vox?
Yes. Yes he did.
     âUh, hey,â Databank greeted in return to Seacrest. The look of confusion on his face was quite intense, but he blinked his optics once and wiped away the confused look. He looked over to Ultra Magnus and folded his arms behind his back in a very militaristic manner. Ultra Magnus turned towards Databank marginally.
     âAnything to report?â Ultra Magnus questioned.
     âNo, sir,â Databank replied immediately, âall teams have reported in as scheduled.â
     âVery good,â Ultra Magnus acknowledged. He turned again to Seacrest and gestured towards the mining cart of energon and rocks. âDatabank I agreed to trade Seacrest an equal amount of refined energon for the raw energon in this cart. Would you personally see to it that a proper measurement is made of the energon?â
     âOf course, Ultra Magnus,â Databank agreed immediately.
     âAlso, Seacrest will be staying with us for a while. Iâll need to have quarters assigned to him.â
     âI believe a room on the fifth floor was just cleaned out and repaired,â Databank said and hesitated, looking to Seacrest. âUnless youâd prefer a room on a lower floor?â
Wings slowly hiking and fanning as he totally wasnât eavesdropping on the pair as he left the cart to wander around the bridge, leaning over consoles to look at screens, and he was perking back up when addressed.
âThe fifth floor will be fine. I have no problem with heights so you can save the lower floors for the next grounders you findâ Seacrest shrugged, looking up at an array of schematics on one screen trying to figure them out buuuut maths was not his friend and there was a potential berth waiting for him!
Turning away to head back to the cart, and he was standing beside Magnus since he doubted he or this ... Datapad? Datablock? fellow could push such a laden thing without tracks to help.
âLead the way. Letâs get me all signed in! Oh, and, uh, Datadude? I will know if you skim the energon when the processed share is brought to me. Just a ... friendly reminderâ
        If Databank was insulted or perturbed by Seacrestâs words it didnât show. Instead the silver-colored mech smiled and shook his head.
        âIf we were hurting so bad that I needed to âskim off the topâ of another mechâs energon weâd be in such sorry shape that itâd make more sense to take the whole lot from you rather than offering to exchange it.â
        Ultra Magnus frowned slightly at this; Seacrest was already a jumpy mech, it wouldnât do to stir him up more. He did not necessarily understand âbanterâ however, which he rather suspected this was. A way to âlighten the mood.â Before he could comment, however, Databank continued:
        âIf you want we can wait on getting the measurements until youâve had time to rest, then you could join me down in the refinery and watch the measurements yourself?â It was a good offer, diplomatic even. Ultra Magnus turned to look at Seacrest.
        âYou donât need to worry about any âsigning upâ,â Ultra Magnus explained. âYouâll be listed as residing in that room while you stay with us. If you chose to do some work the information will be updated.â They couldnât be too strict on how they organized everyone. People whoâve been running during the war could be quite skittish. âIf you want to be there for the measurements we can either transfer the energon into a properly working cart and bring it to your room, or place it in a vault. The decision is yours.â
â...â
Actually, Datastick made a good point. If this place was fighting for scraps, Magnus would have snuffed him in the mine and taken the haul for himself. They wouldnât offer him room and board as another hungry tank to feed if they werenât somewhat well off when it came to what they had stockpiled away. Seems the banter worked. You had one partially less on edge seacon in the room. Still hovering close to his payload, but he wasnât ready to throw down if someone so much as looked at it anymore.
Choices, choices.
Having this much raw energon in his habsuite was a bad idea if anyone saw them wheel it inside. But leaving it in a vault was also a bad idea. No. Best to get it refined as soon as possible and potentially signed off that he has a credit of X amount of fuel rations.
âI would like to get the measurements, and go through the refining process before I rest. I would recharge a lot easier knowing that there isnât a giant cart of crystal fuel at the foot of my berth waiting for a potential break-inâ
     âConsidering Ultra Magnusâ previous line of work,â said Databank with a wry smile and a glance at the towering Supreme Commander, âsecurity is the least of our worries here in Iacon, but I understand.â
     Ultra Magnus tilted his head to one side just slightly in response to what Databank had said; it was not untrue. Ultra Magnus had at one point had been chief of security for the Council and for Sentinel Prime himself. However, after Sentinel Primeâs kidnapping he was no longer so sanguine in his abilities to keep everyone safe at all times. The war had only  just ended and ended in a manner and fashion that would quite possibly cause them all a great deal of strife and difficulty.
     âDatabank,â he said to catch the otherâs attention, âI want you to see to assisting Seacrest with the refining process.â Ultra Magnus could trust Seacrest to defend himself, but that was some of the difficulty. The mech was jumpy â and one could not blame him. He was a Decepticon among Autobots and no matter Ultra Magnusâ word that he would be safe millennia of war would make any individual distrusting, but he seemed to be growing accustomed to Databank who, possessing no weapons, did not necessarily pose no threat.
     âYes sir, Ultra Magnus,â Databank straightened slightly, but did not exactly salute. âWould you like me to send an excavation team up to you?â Ultra Magnus nodded his head in assent, but continued to clarify:
     âFrom the readings I took the energon within the mine is not insignificant, though it is not one of significance either. Considering itâs placement bordering on Iacon I would prefer to strip it so as it does not provide temptation for any who may wish a base of operations to harry us from.â
     âSeacrest,â turning to look at the seacon, Ultra Magnus nodded his head again. âI hope we might speak later; once you have had time to settle in and learn your way about Iacon. If you have any questions or concerns you can seek out Databank or myself. We will do whatever we can to assist you.â
Kristina Teagan Lewis. A young human femme who was the victim of horrendous experimentation. Now only Cybertron is safe for her, if Cybertron is safe for anyone. With Ultra Magnus as her legal guardian, Krisâ future on Cybertron is just beginning.
((Posts by @a-mothers-wings in block quotes. Additional Entries will be added as they are posted))
     âUltra Magnus, sir,â Databankâs voice over the communicationâs line broke through his concentration. âTheyâre ready to open the space bridge. At your command.â
     Lifting his optics from the extensive paperwork hosted on his desk, all pertaining to the situation he was being summoned for, Ultra Magnus took a moment to reorder his thoughts.
     âUnderstood. I will be there shortly.â Setting down the data pad he organized them so his desk was presentable before standing from his chair. They were expecting a new arrival, today. An individual whose make-up was questionable, and circumstances were tragic. They would need guidance, and protection, but all of this was placed under the guise of diplomatic intent.
     It was not an optimum situation, but it was one that Ultra Magnus could not refuse. Not when the situation was such that, if the individual remained on Earth, it was all too likely they would be slowly dissected. Most likely by any remnants of a subset of the human government, or by the remains of MECH.
     Optics narrowed and the claw-attachment that served him as a hand closed. It was a reasonable choice. To send them here under false pretenses to keep them safe from those who would do them harm. StillâŚ
     With measured steps Ultra Magnus exited his office. Databank was at his desk and immediately stood up when Magnus exited the door.
     âNo,â Ultra Magnus held up his hand, âI will go to the space bridge alone. At this time I feel it would not be prudent for too many mechs to greet our new guest⌠we do not wish to overwhelm them.â
     â⌠of course, sir,â Databank agreed after a momentâs thought. Ultra Magnus liked that about the mech. It was not blind obedience to military structure that made Databank agree, but rather honest agreement. He had considered Ultra Magnusâ words.
     He would have followed orders regardless, but only after offering a respectful opinion. Wheeljack could learn a lot from a mech like Databank⌠of course, to change Wheeljack in such a manner would destroy the mech he fought alongside deep in the cave system on Earth against Predaking.
     With a nod, Ultra Magnus left and commâd ahead to the Space Bridge crew to request that they leave. There was no questioning his reason why. Just as with Databank, he worded his order so they would understand his reasonings. Just because one was a leader did not mean he need not explain. Often if his orders were better understood the team was more capable of carrying them out.
â
     The roar and howl of the bridge was intense comparatively to the ground bridge technology the Autobots had utilized on Earth. The blinding light and howl was intimidating, even to a Cybertronian.
     Ultra Magnus stood at parade rest in front of the swirling vortex, the rest of the room empty of any personnel. He had contemplated for a worrying moment that the human delegation that had contacted him would insist on coming through. They had not, as of yet, been able to properly seal the room and pressurize it to contain the necessary atmosphere the humans required. He had been reassured: only their guest would be stepping through the bridge.
     Which made things easier for him. Some of the government delegates were still obsessed with obtaining Cybertronian weapons technology. They would take the opportunity to pelt him with questions in regards to when they would begin sharing their technology. Completely ignoring the already substantial contributions they had made in the medical field.
     âThis is Ultra Magnus,â he said into the comm. link between Cybertron and Earth. âThe space bridge is stable. Energy readings nominal. You may proceed.â
Had she have known. If only she saw the signs that what she had been volunteering to was not as virtuous as it displayed itself. Luckily, special Agent Fowlerâs branch has caught wind of what had transpired and she was quickly moved out of the situation. The damage had been done. Wings and tail, claws, talons, and a beating spark.
It had taken her weeks in Fowlerâs care, along with the medics, to get her shaking under control. A little longer for her to manage walking on changed legs. Kris couldnât look at herself in the mirror. What even was she?! All those other volunteers⌠they didnât survive. Why did she?!
She began ignoring the looks and whispers, the way her species would think they were being quiet enough but her hearing, she could hear every word. It didnât matter anymore, she blotted it out. Still, even when she seemed to shut down, someone got through to her. Agent Fowler, she remembered him from years ago, back in that canyonâŚ.
He did not treat her as an unpredictable, dangerous abomination. He sat in front of her, held her hands in his, and told her of some friends he knewâŚ
â â â
She stood alone on the platform, feeling her âheartâ swell in fear as the sounds were just so loud. She held her helmet in her arm and gripped the strap of the bag that hung over her back. Kris looked to Agent Fowler, who gave her a thumbs up, after she heard âUltra Magnusâ Comm from the other side.
The femme faced forward, knowing that it was not safe where she was anymore. Her new home was on the other side of this massive portal. Slowly she walked forward and through the bridge, the sounds near deafening as they swirled around her. Soon it got colder and the suit she wore activated, warming up her frame just as her talons touched metal on the other side.
At first she felt dizzy, nauseous, which she had been warned about, but after giving herself a few moments, she looked up to the only one there. Wings started to fold tightly to her back and she clenched the strap of her bag tighter. She was afraid and a little shaken because now? Now the reality hit her she was galaxies away from the planet she once called home.
âUltra Magnus?â
     With a final roar of defiance, the Space Bridge closed. Leaving the tiny femme standing, alone, on an alien world with an alien towering before her.
     The files had explained the situation. The experimentation. To see it with his own optics? While there was no outward change in expression or posture, Ultra Magnus felt disgust. Not towards his guest, but towards the humans who had committed such crimes against her. He had read the files on the group called MECH and the notations that Optimus had left. âDecepticons in human skinsâ indeed.
     Experiments had been an all too common occurrence late in the war. Twisted limbs and mutated forms. Conjoined bodies and shapes unrecognizable as the soldiers he had once commanded. How many had died at Decepticon hands? How many would have preferred to be deactivated?
     Slowly, so as not to frighten her, Ultra Magnus lowered himself onto one knee. If he crouched down any further it was likely his shoulder plating would touch the ground, but he did wish to appear less titanic. For such a small being, looking up at a Cybertronian would eventually become painful.
     Overall, Ultra Magnus believed the femme to be aesthetically pleasing. Though she was not all one whole, she was whole. The colors blended nicely into one another, and she did not have the disjointed mis-matched limbs that one might expect from a splicing between two completely different alien genetic structures. CNA and DNA. The pain the procedure must have caused. For Ultra Magnus it may have been a tragedy that the other âvolunteersâ had perished, but it was not unexpected. The probability of another successful subject was neigh on impossible. It was a one-in-one million chance.
     âKris,â he kept his voice low, trying to adopt a welcoming tone, âwelcome to Cybertron.â
     âI am Ultra Magnus,â and because it was a more formal occasion, and he did not wish to cause confusion, he utilized his proper titles, âSupreme Commander of the Autobot forces, and City Leader of Iacon.â
     That he was leader of Cybertron, even if only by de-facto as the leader of the winning faction, wasnât necessary to state at this time. It went unsaid among the Autobots and Ultra Magnus preferred it to stay that wayâŚ. Though it was highly likely Fowler had already informed the little femme of that fact.
     There was a small change to his demeanor, but it was unlikely Kris would be able to see it as so many of his expressions were micro expressions. There was the subtlest of frowns at the corner of his lip plates, and his optics were not quite so hard as they usually were.
     âHere, on Cybertron, I am to be your guardian,â it was a little formal, but Ultra Magnus often had difficulties dropping formalities. While it would have been, perhaps, better for another member of Team Prime to take on the little femme, Ultra Magnus suspected they would not be ready to âreplaceâ their human partners so soon.
     âYour safety is my primary directive,â he continued and winced internally. Team Prime was starting to help soften his edges, make him more aware of how sharp he sometimes sounded. The children on Earth had seemed to take to his demeanor well enough, but they were also of a more flexible mind and not already damaged by the harshness of others. With that thought in mind he did what he could to soften his tone again, lowering his hand down towards the femme and sitting it flat on the floor.
     âI think, maybe, we would be more comfortable talking in my office. I have energon waiting for us both.â
Kris turned her head around as soon as the sounds of the bridge ceased. She fought the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, the reality sinking in deeper. Earth had no place for her. She heard her name and turned back to the lowering titan of a mech. A hand was offered to her and a welcoming to her new home planet.
Tentatively she stepped forward and up into the palm of Magnusâ servo. ââŚ.â she didnât have much to say nor did she know what to say. All she did was sit down to keep herself from being too wobbly in her guardians hold. Even though she just met him and he seemedâŚ. she couldnât even place a feeling to the leader yet, but at least it wasnât bad.
âOkay.â
They were alone right now, which did in fact help her stress levels, but how long were they going to stay alone? An office meant a place of work and that meant there were others and an accessibility about it. If Ultra Magnus is a leader, people would be coming to him, frequently. All of cybertron would get a chance to gawk at the little freak who couldnât remain on her home planet. The only thing that caught her from that spiral was Energon.
It had taken some trial and error until Fowlerâs team helped her figure out what she needed for sustenance. Her first taste of energon was a bizarre one, as she was running low on energy at the point she tried it. Everything in her body seemed to buzz expectantly when she held the glass to her lips. The near immediate effect of downing the fuel was shocking to say the least. She had felt so weak and then suddenly she felt energized and balanced.
âEnergon⌠sounds niceâŚ. thanksâŚâ
     There had been trauma. Mental and physical. Ultra Magnus was aware of this, it had been mentioned in the debrief Agent Fowler had sent to him. Yet simple words had never been quite capable of describing the implications behind such damage. Not in Ultra Magnusâ reports during the war, and certainly not now.
     So light, and frail by Cybertronian standards, the femme hardly registered as she came to sit in his hand. He curled his fingers and thumb up in order to help provide something for her to hold onto if she required, and moved slowly as he stood back up. Keeping a careful optic in order to prevent her from falling. He had to be careful. The clawed servo that served him as a right hand would not be able to catch her, or if it did it would damage her.
     To her words he simply nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say at this time to put her at ease. She did not know him, nor did he know her outside of the background information provided him, but history was only one part that made up an individualâs personality. There were preferences and dislikes to take into consideration, as well as quirks and other anomalies that came hand-in-hand with living, sapient, beings. Instead of commenting on anything, Ultra Magnus simply turned and, with a steady, smooth, stride, exited the Space Bridge deck.
     In the hall they met no one. Ultra Magnus had already put out the order to clear the halls leading to his offices. Simply stating that he was escorting a new arrival and wished not to be disturbed. No one questioned him. There had already been one or two new, jumpy, arrivals who had not done well in crowds. Still⌠it might be distressing for her to walk through the seemingly endless halls with nothing to distract her from her thoughts.
     âI have had quarters arranged for you,â Ultra Magnus stated, looking down at her momentarily with what he hoped was a softer expression than his usual one. Though, if truth be told, there was hardly any difference. He had grown so controlled over his facial expressions during his time in the war that they were often hard to distinguish unless he was feeling truly perplexed or angered. âAnd I have insured that they are to scale.â It was important that she be comfortable.
     The problem was, there was not much Ultra Magnus could discuss while they were outside the confines, and carefully secluded, area of his office. Of all of Iacon Ultra Magnusâ office was the most secure. The Autobots were, admittedly, a little paranoid about losing their new leader so soon after Optimus Prime had sacrificed himself to bring life back to Cybertron. There were also other objects to be considered. Eventually they would have to be spread to the far corners of Cybertron, making them harder to find, and perhaps sent deep into space once more, but for the time being they remained in Ultra Magnusâ care.
     Despite intending to help put the femme at ease, Ultra Magnus could not quite help but to lapse into silence again. He was not used to comforting others. Thankfully, despite what it might have seemed to the femme, they arrived back at his office suite quite quickly. Of course, having someone as large as Ultra Magnus taxi one there was likely the reasoning behind this.
     Entering the room found them now with only one other mech for company; Databank. He was a smaller mech, whoâs frame was primarily silver with cerulean biolights that matched his optics. The smile that slid across his face was wholly welcoming and instead of rushing up to Ultra Magnus, and thus invading Krisâ space, he waited at his desk patiently until Ultra Magnus halted there.
     âKris,â Ultra Magnus said, beginning introductions, âthis is Databank. My personal assistant. He will be here to help you if ever I am unavailable.â
     âDatabank,â Ultra Magnus continued, looking up at the mech, âthis is Kris. As you are already privy to her files, I would prefer that we continue the façade that she is here as a diplomatic envoy from Earth. While the position is not entirely safe, it is preferable to the probable outcome of her real reason for being here on Cybertron.â
     âYes sir, Ultra Magnus,â Databank answered immediately, looking momentarily far more serious than he had been when theyâd walked in, but when he looked back down at Kris his entire demeanor changed and he offered a single hand out, and gently curled his fingers and thumb closer so that he only offered his index finger, face up, to Kris. He had seen in some Earth videos gentlemen doing so for ladies, but if she were to place her hand on his digit, he would bow oh-so-slightly.
     âIt is a singular pleasure to meet you Kris,â Databank said, his voice soft and friendly, âAs Ultra Magnus said I am aware of why you are here, and I hope I might earn your trust. If you need anything, youâll have my personal comm. channel. Iâm always available if you have any questions?â
     It was an offer, not an order, and Ultra Magnus appreciated that Databank was far better with people than he was. At least in this manner of speaking. He would wait for a moment, there was no rush. It was important that Kris be given this opportunity.
Kris let go of the bag strap and held onto Ultra Magnusâ thumb as the digits came close to her. It was silently appreciated as he rose back to his full height gradually. Ooooooh man. Oh man this was *really* high. The small femme couldnât help but look down and around as they moved from the bridge room area and off to the leaders office.
âThat soundsâŚ. nice⌠I only brought some things I could carry from h- from earth. Special Agent Fowler said my childhood home would be maintained. There are too many treasures there to lose, but Iâm unable to take.â Kris rested her cheek against the side of his thumb and watched his face. He wasnât an extremely emotive mech and now she was putting descriptions to what she saw. Still, she could sense he was trying, that was appreciated.
They entered the room Databank was in and she stared quietly at him, making no motion to move from her comfortable position. That was, until he *smiled* to her. Then she recognized the gesture of his hand moving towards her and she immediately perked. Her cheeks darkened a little and she smiled back to him, reaching out and placing her hand faintly a top his digit. âWhy, good sir, I am quite charmed to make your acquaintanceâ she replied, giving a brief nod of her head to his bow.
She liked Databank already, he had to have studied earth customs or seen movies! It just tickled her spark. âThank you for the familiar and warm greeting.â It was breaking away her fears that there would be nothing familiar or normal for her here. Databank just proved her pleasantly wrong.
     Ultra Magnus was quietly making notes to make a supply run to Earth in order to collect some items for the femme. She may not have been able to carry them, but a Cybertronian most certainly could. He was considering whether it would be prudent to go himself with a trailer, or if it would suffice to bring one of the calmer new-sparks with a truck-type alt mode instead.
     âYouâre welcome,â Databank was saying, allowing Ultra Magnus a moment to decide that he would first speak with the femme about what items she would like to bring to her new âhomeâ before deciding on the necessary transport. The smile on Databankâs face was an honest one, and his optics were gentle. There was no gawping, or staring, just consideration and attention. âYouâll find that a lot of the âbots around here are actually very curious about Earth. To be honest Earth music âis all the rageâ with the young bots.â
     That the music they chose was driving Ultra Magnus to surges because of the number of complaints went unsaid. He appreciated it, but Ultra Magnus thought he caught a sly glimmer in Databankâs optic. It went unsaid on purpose, but it was also a way for Databank to tease Ultra Magnus too. These little jabs, Magnus believed, were delivered to remind him to âloosen upâ.
     âTeam Prime spent many years on Earth,â he contributed, âArcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen.â He would have to introduce them to her later once she had settled. âOur medical professional, Ratchet, also spent a great deal of time on Earth, but you will find that it is not a subject he will go on at length about.â
     âAnd then thereâs me,â Databank cut in, pulling Ultra Magnus up from a slight downward spiral. âIâm still doing what I can to learn about your planet,â and then he gave her a very interesting look. Ultra Magnus found it intriguing. It was both serious, and kind. Gentle, yet firm.
     âI hope, maybe, with time youâll find that Cybertron isnât so bad. Youâll probably learn about this a little later â itâll be hard for you to be under Ultra Magnusâ protection without a little information to better ready yourself for things you may encounter â but Cybertron and Earth are very much like sibling planets.â
     âWe can go back and visit any time youâre feeling homesick. Iâll escort you myself if Ultra Magnus can spare me and is busy. Weâll have to go somewhere without humans probably, unless I stay in alt mode and keep my windows tinted dark, but I want you to know the option is available.â He looked up at Ultra Magnus, who nodded his agreement to Kris. He intended to cover that with her as they went over his paperwork, but he found himself grateful that Databank had mentioned it now. It would be easier for Kris to relax if she knew this was not a prison. It was a safe place for her to be.
     âDatabank,â Magnus said, sounding a touch more official now, âI wish not to be disturbed for the next hour, hour and a half, unless itâs an emergency.â
     âYes sir,â Databank said, standing up straight again and locking optics with his commanding office. âIâve got Kris slotted in for just over two hours in case she has any questions. After that youâre scheduled to meet with Sixten of the Eradicon. Evidently thereâs been a little trouble between two of the crews. Nothing major, but heâd like to get your input on it.â
     âUnderstood,â Ultra Magnus said with a nod, âin which case I may have you show Kris to her hab-suite. It should be warm enough for her once weâve finished.â
     Databank nodded and returned his optics back to Kris.
     âWeâll get some time to talk while Magnus is in his meetings, Iâm hoping you can tell me a little bit more about where youâre from, and in turn Iâll answer every question you have about Cybertron, deal?â
Kris had no idea the thoughts that may be going through Ultra Magnusâs mind. If she did, there would be a deep appreciation for the fact that he thought of doing this for her. Although Databank had her entire focus for the time being. Listen, can one truly be blamed for being shown some customs and told their culture was intriguing to many and getting a little excited for it?
âReally? Iâm really going to have a good chance of just hearing a song I know, playing here? Incredible⌠forgive me⌠I just, I really expected to be in such a different society and culture that I doubted I would get comfortable, or feel⌠like I was still an oddityâ Kris rubbed the back of her neck, feeling a little shame growing for holding so much doubt and internal fear. âIf⌠any of the young bots want to know something⌠Iâd be open to sharing⌠maybe in a few days?â
âWheeljack, you forgot a member. Special Agent Fowler told me of each member, active and ⌠inactive.â Kris shifted a little awkwardly in the large mechs hand. She had held some pride in remembering names but as soon as she remembered that CliffJumper and Optimus Prime were deceased, guilt doused the fire that had slowly been growing in her. They had lost loved ones too. It actually hurt a little to hear about Optimus, he had seemed compassionate and hurt for her back on earth, the day her family had just picked the wrong time and canyon to camp at. Her path crossing that of Cybertronians had been brief and insignificant. It was a casualty of a war that they hadnât known existed.
Not only did Databank pull Magnus out of a spiral, but he had pulled the small femme out of one as well. âWell, Iâm willing to learn⌠I doubt I will be an effective asset to all of you, but Iâll try to be of some benefit.â She didnât know that her planet was a sibling to theirs, but that was perhaps for another time.
Wait. They could go back?!
She looked at Databank wide eyed, then to Magnus, and back to the other mech. âReally?! We can visit? I can see earth again?! â Kris put a hand to her chest as she tried to blink back the tears in her eyes. She hadnât seen earth for the last time!  âSorry⌠sorry⌠just got a lil emotional⌠I⌠thatâs so welcoming to hear.â
She was glad she could take a minute to calm herself, relaxing tense limbs she didnât realize were so tense. When addressed once more she smiled. âDeal. Although I need to ask: if you give me a ride, what seat am I supposed to sit in? I donât want to make some awkward situation I wouldnât have known about.â
     It wasnât so much that Ultra Magnus had forgot a member, rather he did not necessarily wish for the femme to spend much time with Wheeljack. Whoâd shown poor judgement in allowing Miko, Bulkheadâs human partner, to come with them on a Wrecker mission. That she had exceeded expectations on that mission, though Magnus had not had any expectations for her, did not mean Wheeljackâs decision to bring a civilian into a battle wasnât a bad one. If he could have, he would have preferred to keep Kris away from Wheeljack until the Wrecker understood that organics, or even partial organics, were not to be treated as regular soldiers. No matter how willing.
     As to Optimus and Cliffjumper; those were subjects for another time. Optimusâ sacrifice was widely known, but Cliffjumperâs execution was a sore note among Team Prime that Ultra Magnus usually avoided prodding.
     âGenerally,â Ultra Magnus answered her question; Databank had never carried a passenger with him before, âfor vehicles with a driverâs and passengerâs seat it was more comfortable for the children to be seated in the passenger as the Autobot is technically the âdriverâ.â Raf would often sit in the back seat, where it was safer for the much smaller human, but Kris was of adult age, meaning she had the weight necessary to be safe in the front passenger.
     âAs to visits back to Earth,â he continued, âCybertron is not a prison for you, Kris. Merely it is safer for you to be here, under our protection, than it is for you to be on your home planet. Furthermore, your human medical professionals are not capable of caring for Cybertronian components.â
     Ultra Magnus did not tell her that, already, individuals had been sniffing around the program on Earth and that, if she were to visit Earth, the reason she was going with Databank or himself was that they were more capable of keeping her hidden than the younger mechs were. Databank could make it as though the pair were not there. Being able to actively scrub any record of their time on Earth would help keep interested individuals at bay, and no one wished to take on Ultra Magnus. Not when it would stir up an entire city of hulking titians.
     âUltra Magnus, you better go ahead and start getting Kris situated with all the paperwork and such that youâve got,â Databank said, checking his internal chronometer. âAs much as I enjoy her company, and would love to keep talking, you know how on-point Sixten can be about meetings.â
     âAnd Iâll see you once youâre done in your meeting with Ultra Magnus, Kris, weâll go to your hab suite and get it set up for you,â Databank promised in farewell.
     Ultra Magnus waited just long enough to allow the femme to say a few last words, before turning and entering his surprisingly large office. The room was monotone gray, with very little ornamentation. Originally Team Prime had wanted there to be an Autobot insignia on the floor, or on the wall behind Ultra Magnus, but he had declined the idea. In this room he would be meeting with Autobots, Decepticons, and those in-between and disillusioned with the war after itâd cost them their planet. Ultra Magnus would primarily be addressing them as City Leader when they met with him, not as an Autobot, but they would all know where his loyalties lie. Thus, there was no point in reminding them.
     There were other reasons, but they were best not thought of.
     As they approached his desk, Ultra Magnus slowly lowered his hand so that Kris would be able to slide off. A small, human-sized, chair sat on his desk in front of his own larger one, with space in-between with a few data pads sized to Ultra Magnus, and a smaller one. So small there was no way that Magnus would be able to use it. It rested on a cloth just off to the left-hand side of his work area.
     Stepping around the edge, Ultra Magnus took a seat in his chair and reached into a drawer on the side of his desk, lifting first one drinking-cube of energon for himself, and another, smaller one, for Kris. He kept it carefully pinched between thumb and forefinger, offering it to her.
     âOnce weâre done here, and youâve seen your hab suite, I will have Databank take you down to medical,â he said, âI realize that on your first day you may not wish to see, or speak, to too many of us, but it is necessary that we get a few scans. We need more information on your frame, its energy consumption, and requirements, so we can properly allocate rations for you, and schedule regular evaluations.â
     âBut for now, I have some paperwork I need you to read over, and a few documents, human and Cybertronian, to sign.â
Kris turned her head to look back at Ultra Magnus when he answered her question. No drivers seat. That didnât seem too hard to remember anyway. At least it would avoid becoming a faux pax. Cybertron was like visiting another country with its own history and culture. It just happened to be a whole new planet that was much larger than her own.
âI can understand that logicâŚ. although I wonder how treatments or repairs will go as I am quite tiny. Unless there are other cybertronians who are closer to my size?â Oh, the answer could wait. They didnât have limiteless time it would seem and Kris did not want to hold up anyoneâs schedule.
âIâll see you later Databank! Thank you for being so welcoming!â She waved as they headed into Magnusâ office which seemed almostâŚ. bland? Some of the design looked nice and the sheer size, compared to her, was impressive, but the lack of colors seemed to make the room⌠sterile? Stiff?
âLight blue with some soft yellows and greens would really brighten up this area. It wouldnât be overwhelming or distractingâ and that was unsolicited. Iâm sorry. I hope if didnât offend youâŚâ Kris blushed a little as she stepped onto the desk and moved to sit in the chair provided. Of COURSE she would open her mouth before filtering her thoughts and discerning the necessity of sharing them.
âThank you.â Kris had been transitioned from earth food to energon for weeks. It was weird in the beginning, but there was a smooth, buzzy taste and sensation to drinking it. She took the energon offered to her and sipped at it. The mentioning of medical exams made her frown. It was necessary but damn did she hate the feeling of being studied like a test subject. âI understand. Iâll do my best to behave.â
For now, as he said, it was time for paperwork and document signing. Super. Duper. Fun. âI canât read Cybertronian yet⌠so I Hope translations are available.â
     âAs Cybertronians vary in size and shape,â he explained, there was no reason not to answer her question about the medical capabilities at their disposal, âour medics are outfitted as such that they are capable of working on individuals as small as yourself, or as large as a Fortress-type mech.â Admittedly the last was usually tackled by a team of medics, if one was available, otherwise the repairs would take too long. âBut at the moment they simply require some scans, readings, and an energon sample in order to begin studying your frame and learning all they can about it in case there is ever need for repairs to be done. Aside from the energon sample, all the other procedures will be strictly non-invasive.â
     He did not mention that they needed to understand the extent of the spliced DNA/CNA, that there was the question of what had happened to her organs. Did they still exist? If they did would they interfere with her new systems? Was her spark healthy? Was she capable of transformation and was in possession of a t-cog that would work properly? Was transformation a possibility for an organic-based individual such as herself? If it was, how would her âskinâ play into it as a factor? Was she still at risk for human diseases? Would she be at risk from Cybertronian diseases? There were a myriad of questions that the human doctors would not have been capable of discovering; their medical technology was not advanced enough and they did not have the knowledge Cybertronian medics possessed.
     âThere is no need to apologize, you did not offend,â Ultra Magnus waved away her apology, not out of contempt, but simply because his words were true. He was a military mech. He did not have any interests in colors or in âdecoratingâ his office. It was austere for a reason. Eventually he knew he would lose the fight to keep his office where it was. As leader of Cybertron, even if it was de-facto from his faction winning the war, his position would necessitate that Ultra Magnus meet with dignitaries and liaisons from other worlds. First impressions at that point would be paramount, but for now he was happy with the office he possessed. It suited his needs, allowed him to do his work in quiet and with the necessary security, and that was all it required.
     Ultra Magnus opened one of the drawers on his desk and removed from it a small case. From it he removed a diminutive, human-sized, datapad. Balancing it on the tip of one of his digits he offered it out to Kris, keeping still so as not to knock it to the desktop.
     âI have copies in both English, and in Cybertronian for you,â he explained, âand unfortunately I will need you to sign all versions. The English copies are for you and the government officials on Earth. In short: once you sign these documents, I will become your legal guardian on Earth as well as here on Cybertron. You will fall under my purview and protection on both worlds.â
     What this meant for Kris, though he did not wish to upset her with the thought at this time, was that should any individual, or Earth group, MECH or otherwise, attempt to kidnap her it would give Ultra Magnus full authority to pursue and search for her. Bringing the full weight of his experience and all the resources available to him, to bare on whatever group had taken her. The human government could assist, but it could not interfere with his search.
     His reasoning for this prerequisite to accepting guardianship over her was; that at any point in time a Decepticon or another Cybertronian, could quite possibly be the one to kidnap her. Logic dictated they would likely retreat to Earth where it would be easier to care for their captive. In which case it made sense for Ultra Magnus to lead the rescue, but he had worked it so that it covered all threats to Krisâ person, because he had assets the people of Earth did not. She was safest this way, though it had been a difficult debate. Many in the government on Earth still did not wholly trust them. Xenophobia was a tricky problem to circumvent.
     âYou may wait to sign those forms until you have had time to read through the agreement,â Ultra Magnus continued, âbut I do have a petition for you to sign for temporary protection.â This time, he pulled out his own datapad, which was much larger, and settled it on the desktop facing Kris. âThere is a translation on your datapad, but this petition is far simpler and merely states that you seek asylum on Cybertron while we discuss the terms of your citizenship. For this one you need only sign your name at the bottom, there is a small stylus within the frame of your datapad, after which I will sign, and send a copy to Agent Fowler.â
     âOn Earth your life here will be strictly confidential,â Ultra Magnus was drawing to a close, watching the little femme. She had been through a great deal. Once they were done here, and the medical examiners had their scans, he would do as he said and have Databank bring her to her hab suite so she could have some quiet and time to herself. âBut here on Cybertron there will be no need for confidentiality. You need not feel as though you are required to hide who and what you are. You are free to be who you wish to be here.â He would make that so. The war would not be for nothing. The sacrifices they made. He could start here, in Iacon, with a few small steps. Protecting the rights of the individuals who lived here.
     Hopefully he was strong enough to bare that burden. He had to be. Or Kris would be crushed beneath the weight of it all should Ultra Magnus fail. The others might survive, but she would not.
     He would be strong. He would keep them all safe.
Kris glanced away, brows furrowing at the idea of energon being drawn from her, but it went without saying how uncomfortable it was. An EMF has started to develop in the last week for her, not that the humans realized it. It wasnât strong yet, she would need to be close enough for a cybertronian to register it, and even then it was only readable during extreme emotional periods. Perhaps in the future she would develop a stronger EMF and even be able to control it willfully. It was still too soon, Krisâ body was still adapting to the more dominate CNA.
Eyes turned back to the massive mech as the topic had changed. She felt a wariness if signing anything, last time it made her into this, so she was already reading through the lengthy documents once she had taken her datapad. Ooo, fancy. Humans have NOTHING on Cybertronians when it came to these! What was that? Legal Guardian?
Kris stared up at Ultra Magnus, her focus drifting in and out as the more emotional aspects of her started raising their voices. He.. wasnât rushing her to sign those. His wordless gesture was respecting her time to process things. However, the petition was more urgent. She pulled out the stylus and glanced over the large datapad, looking for the keywords, and nodded. âThe last thing I would want is for you to have to deal with the drama of Earths politics hounding you just for taking care of me.â
âKristina Teagan Lewisâ
It felt weird seeing her signature on such advanced technology, but a warm feeling pulsed in her chest. This felt right. âYou know⌠after what I endured⌠itâs hard to trust, and yet I am so desperate to want to trustâŚâ she trailed off and finished her energon ration. ââŚthat I find myself in agreement with you practically âadoptingâ me. When I look at you in your eyes, I donât feel fear, and Iâve only known you for however long time has passed on this planet.â
As for living out in the open on Cybertron, it was a whole new feeling. âWonât I cause a stir? Certainly not everyone holds warm, fuzzy feelings towards organics, much less⌠thisâ she gestured to herself, unsure how to even regard what she was. Her less than kind side merely whispered âabominationâ. âAlthough⌠I would be lying if I said I wasnât even a little eager to explore and stretch my legs.â
Maybe there could be a chance of her making friends aside from practically gluing herself to Magnus or Databank. She had to be hopeful. If she let her ghosts take root, it could make everything a lot harder for her adaption into a new society.
       He watched her. Studying her without appearing to do so. There were some advantages to having controlled his facial expressions for millions of years and adopting a stoic expression under any circumstance. Ultra Magnusâ gaze was a mixture of self-discipline and patience. There was no sense of urgency in how he held her gaze, no intent to rush her decisions. There was a reason he had allotted so much time for the small femme. She would have questions. He would answer all he could and look into those he could not.
       She signed her name on the petition easily enough. Ultra Magnus turned the data pad and signed it himself before immediately sending a copy to Agent Fowler as heâd promised. That done Magnus set the data pad to the side so as to give Kris his utmost attention.
       The little femmeâs countenance was changing. Human facial expressions were so much more exaggerated than Cybertronians. With the ability to change in color, along with various âleakagesâ that had nothing to do with actively cooling their systems down (though he understood âtearsâ were a means by which to âdrainâ the chemicals that caused emotions from the brain), and their habit of combining multiple reactions into one emotional state.
       That was why, when Kris looked up at him, Ultra Magnus struggled to place the emotion she was showing him. Disbelief, as her words suggested? Relief? Happiness? Some combination of the three? His optics readjusted themselves, focusing further on the femmeâs face as she looked up at him. Magnus could understand quite clearly what she was saying, perhaps more than she realized. He had met many individuals, after the war had started, whoâd been turned on by friends and colleagues. Peers who had subjected them to the kind of hate, or indifference, it took to turn another living being over to the Decepticons. There were many Autobot soldiers who had never been heard from again after capture; and the Decepticons were not known to care for their prisoners.
       So, he waited until she had finished, and then he carefully threaded his fingers through each other and settled his hands in front of himself as he considered how to respond.
       âDo not feel rushed to sign those documents, though I will do all I can to earn your trust,â he began, keeping his voice calm and even. âNow: for all intent and purpose I am âadoptingâ you. Legally I will be responsible for your health and wellbeing, and you will beâŚâ he had to pause for a moment to look up the proper terminology in English, âa âwardâ of Cybertron. Specifically, my ward as I am the leader of Cybertron,â and as close to a court system as Cybertron would have for the foreseeable future. Kris did not need to know that particular detail at this time, but he would explain it to her later should it come up.
       âI understand that among your people you are of legal age,â he continued so as to avoid any objections, âhowever, your situation makes it necessary for you to live here on Cybertron and our laws are not modeled, as yet, to consider organic beings as legal citizens.â Truthfully it should not matter. Ultra Magnus was, for good or ill, the ârulerâ of Cybertron. As leader of the Autobot forces, the winning faction of the war, if he chose to acknowledge Kris as a legal citizen of their planet there was nothing anyone could do. While this would give Kris the ability to make more decisions without Ultra Magnus being involved, it would also place her at a disadvantage.
       âWith this arrangement you will immediately be allotted certain ârightsâ on Cybertron, but more importantly my involvement in protecting you could not be viewed as favoritism. The Autobots, of course, expect me to protect you and see to your wellbeing, but to any returning Decepticons who believe Cybertron should be my first, and last, concern at this time, it would be seen as a conflict of interests; were it not for your status as my ward.â
       Ultra Magnus was in a difficult position. Kris required the Autobots for future medical care, but Ultra Magnus had to remain as impartial as possible.
       âI wonât deny that your presence here will, at first, be a matter of some contention for the reasons I stated previously,â there were members of Cybertron that were quite xenophobic. A remnant of the propaganda the Council enjoyed spreading amongst the citizenry. âThere will be individuals whoâs curiosity might lead them to blunder and act rudely towards you, and then there are others who may simply ignore you altogether, and much like your own kind there will be certain members of our population that are only ever content when the people around them are as miserable as they are.â
       Gears came to mind on that note. Ultra Magnus did not know what had happened to the minibot, but there was not a single individual who had not experienced Gears particular need to put down any sapient being around him. Hopefully Kris would have time to acclimate and become more comfortable, and confident, in her surroundings before meeting such an individual. Though Magnus could also name a handful of new sparks who would fit the bill Gears had left behind.
       âBut if you experience any action, or word, that is harmful to you, you are to report it to me, or to Databank, immediately, am I understood?â It was not a request, but an order. Ultra Magnus would not tolerate any misbehavior around Kris. She was far too small, far too fragile. One slip-up, one mistake, and she could be gone.
Kris watched massive servos as they moved the datapad, set it down, intertwined their fingers, and rested atop the desk. âSo there will be âbulliesâ, that doesnât seem abnormal, humans have those too.â She did nod in understanding to Magnusâ order to report ill intent shown to her. âMaybe I should have a âbuttonâ I carry around for emergencies.â
It was a joke. The femme was fondly noting some alert devices commercialized on TV. She just hadnât realized the mech before her was not one for jokes. âI hope it wonât be too muchââ
Kris frowned as she felt the familiar tightening in her chest. She clenched her jaws as she fought back the flood of emotions. âOpen.â She was strained in her tone as she moved for Magnusâ servos, trying to climb atop and if they opened, she would tuck under them and curl up. âPatience. Shelter.â She forced out as she let the episode overtake her.
She had never experienced anxiety attacks until her family perished years ago. These episodes only amplified from the experimentations on her. So Kris handled it the best she could by hiding in a small place and weathering through the emotions. Tears flowed freely, hands clutched her arms, wings trembled from the silent sobs she forced to keep quiet.
This too shall pass.
      A joke, perhaps, but for a moment Ultra Magnus looked down at Kris in serious contemplation. The femme was quite small, it would not be outside of imagination for her to find herself in a situation in which she could not swiftly contact them. An emergency beacon would not be wholly inappropriate. Something simple and non-obtrusive could be developed. A simple pendant perhaps?
      Then again, perhaps not. He could not smother her in protective layers. Kris was his responsibility; it was his job to keep her safe. Something Ultra Magnus took seriously, but the femme had to be allowed a certain degree of freedom as well. While the pendant could have also been installed with a transponder, allowing the Autobots to more readily keep track of her location and insure she did not come to be under foot, she had a distinct enough energy signature to indicate her location. The likelihood of anyone mis-stepping was minimal.
      About to repeat himself that Kris needed to call on him, or on Databank, should any individual cause her undue stress, he stopped. The femme had grown ridged. Her voice tight. Ultra Magnus felt alarm stir in his spark chamber as she moved stiffly towards his hands.
      He had read about this in her files. After witnessing the death of her family, following the experimentation at the hands of rogue agents, Kris suffered from severe anxiety attacks. The files stated that she would often search out small, secluded, areas and shelter there. By opening his remaining hand, Ultra Magnus allowed Kris to crawl underneath. The soft edges of her feathers brushing against his digits was an alien sensation, but he dutifully ignored it. Very carefully he curled his hand over her, allowing his thumb to wrap down around in front. It was not a perfect shelter, but he did not trust his clawed attachment to maintain the proper grip. In all likelihood he would harm her with it if he tried.
      What should he do? His first instinct was to take her to the medics immediately, but in this state, it would be unable to lift her and keep her sheltered at the same time. He could call the medics into his office, but they would arrive with fanfare.
      Ultra Magnus, moving slowly, picked up another datapad; the one containing Krisâ information, and with some effort pulled up her medical file. All indications were that her âattackâ would pass with time. He read further, searching out anything that might be of assistance, but found that the best thing, the only thing, he could do was wait. It was not something that could be interrupted or stopped.
        He was familiar with anxiety and panic. A seasoned military officer saw both in their time, and Ultra Magnus was the eldest remaining military officer on Cybertron. He had patience in abundance. If all he could do was wait, then wait he would.
      Carefully, quietly, he settled the datapad aside and picked up another and began to read through the schedule he had set up for the day. He had quite a bit more time with Kris. He intended to show her around a little, introduce her to the medics and have them begin some initial non-invasive scans, and an energon draw. Then he would take her to her hab suite and insure it was to her liking.
      No one, ever, wanted to be witnessed when they were at their weakest and most vulnerable. So Ultra Magnus turned his optics away, but kept his hand carefully curled around the diminutive frame. He was calm, and in control at all times. He would weather the storm with her, waiting until everything calmed. He would ask if she wished to speak with a medic, but otherwise he would choose not to comment on what had just happened. She did not need the added humiliation.
It was always so terrible to undergo these episodes and so taxing. It ultimately boiled down to feeling a sense of a lack of control over ones own self. The racing thoughts that crashed into the shoreline of her mind like storm-swollen waves. The sharp wind of her emotions cutting deep and adding to the chaos. When it all began to flood her head, tears continued to trickle from her shut eyes.
Kris typically would keep her eyes open and her sounds muffled, but deep down she felt safe to let it out. It started with hesitant whimpers and grew into growling sobs. One hand clutched her chest, feeling the material of her suit, while the other steadied herself by gripping onto the thumb before her.
Just feel. Let yourself feel. Get it all out.
Kris wasnât always very patient with herself and thatâs why her sobs held a growl. She was frustrated and tired and angry and scared all while knowing she didnât need to feel this panic right now. Logically it made no sense and yet here she was subjecting Magnus to witnessing this embarrassment! How stupid! How weak! What a waste of time!
Stop. Look at him. He cares. He will wait for you.
Slowly those eyes opened and the growling washed away from her quieting sobs. She looked up, just a little, to see that he wasnât staring at her or looked annoyed. He was being all he could for her in this moment and her spark began to soothe. She was still shaking, but now she was leaning into the large servo.
She never knew how long it took as each episode varied. Time felt so different during this situation. Kris slowed her breathing as the hurricane inside her died out, counting seconds with inhale, hold, and exhale steps. Then started the sniffling process and the hand over her chest wiped at her face.
âBack⌠I⌠Iâm backâŚâ she spoke shyly, looking away from the autobotâs face. The tiny femme just hugged his thumb, pressing her cheek against the warm metal. âThank you. Mâsorry about the interruption, where⌠where did we leave off? Oh yeahâŚâ
It took Kris a few more moments and she cleared her throat. âYou have so much on your plate and you are still taking me in. I may not have known you long nor could it matter so muchâŚ. but I care about you too. I donât want to add more stress because well⌠even the most âperfectâ person has their limits and Iâd never forgive myself if you suffered for meâŚâ
 The measure of a leader was not in his ability to stride forward without concern or worry, but in their ability to walk forth regardless of the fear they felt in their Spark. To inspire others to follow in their wake and stand as a barrier between their people and the forces before them.
      It was with hidden relief that Ultra Magnus released Starscreamâs hand. His grip had been solid, he knew that. Firm, but it did not have the crushing weight of one who intended to â foolishly â assert dominance via a handshake that was meant to be an agreement between equals. All Ultra Magnus could hope for was that Starscream interpreted his lack of crushing force to be a conscientiousness of his strength. A choice made not to squeeze too tight, instead of a weakness in the prosthetic limb.
      Their temporary negotiations were coming to a close. Ultra Magnus would have to forsake the remainder of his patrol and return immediately to Iacon. First and foremost, if Starscream had sought him out his repeated patrol had been noticed and mapped. It would be irresponsible to continue on for today. Secondly, he would need to begin preparations for a proper summit between Iacon and Vos, and he believed he knew first where to begin work.
      Ultra Magnus made a private note to ask Databank to begin research for a project he believed would well serve his intentions. He also made further notes on another topic Starscream had touched on, something that his foremen would need to alleviate first if they wished to strengthen Vos as a partner City State. Starscream, he felt, would approve of his idea as it would allow Vos to gain some self-sustainability and not require it to rely quite so heavily on Ultra Magnusâ good graces⌠and it seemed Starscream was of the same mindset; speaking of how he would request his captains to begin compiling the necessary reports to train Ultra Magnusâ people.
      It was as Starscream agreed to meet in Iacon, and assured Ultra Magnus that he would furnish the Autobot Commander with a list of his entourage that Ultra Magnusâ facial expression began to change to a more dramatic degree.
      âIf you have any questions or concerns, you have my comm.â The sentence bothered Ultra Magnus, and the frown on his face deepened and his gaze slid from Starscream towards something that couldnât be seen. His countenance troubled with a thought that had occurred to him, and only silence was met with Starscreamâs words.
      Comms. The old security mech in him was concerned over the prospect of a comm channel, one that was possibly being utilized for other needs in Starscreamâs day-to-day life, being used to facilitate the delicate pre-negotiations needed prior to a summit between the two City Leaders. Ultra Magnus did not know what personnel Starscream had at his disposal, but Ultra Magnus had the means to facilitate something safer for all involved.
      His optics returned to look at Starscream and he took a brief moment to devise the necessary explanation for his hesitation to conclude their business and move on to proper preparations.
      âI am certain your choice of entourage will exceed expectations,â Ultra Magnus acknowledged; Starscream was a wily old mech, one more versed in the world of politics. He would not select someone detrimental to his cause; his choices would be strategic. âI do have a further suggestion as we move forward with negotiations.â
      Ultra Magnus paused for a moment, sending a quick and simple ping via a private frequency between himself and Databank for what he required, before continuing.
      âThough we are coming together as representatives of our cities, and not in an attempt to cement a cease-fire, or peace negotiations between Autobots and Decepticons, it cannot be overstated that our intentions could be seen as such due to our current stations.â Ultra Magnus was the Supreme Commander of the Autobots, and Starscream â without Megatron â would naturally become Lord of the Decepticons, were it not for the obstacles Ultra Magnus had already laid bare to prevent Starscream from taking his rightful place.
      âWe are both aware of the position some in the Decepticon ranks would take ââ that Megatron was the rightful ruler, or that an individual was a better deserving of the position ââ however, it is not only the outliers within the Decepticon faction we must be wary of. There are groups within the Autobots who may choose to sabotage a summit organized between our cities.â
      It was this reason Ultra Magnus was so strict with the newly sparked Seekers. It was for this reason several groups of Eradicon, Vehicon, and Miner âdronesâ were locked up within cells below Iacon. He not only considered returning Decepticons a threat to his people, but returning Autobots as well. War had taken its toll. There were members within his own Wreckerâs unit that he would need to handle carefully if they returned to Cybertron, and he had little doubt there were others who had suffered long enough, fought long enough, to no longer care to ask questions. It was the reality that would eventually come to pass. In his position as Supreme Commander, and more uncomfortably as the leader of this planet, he would have to offer such individuals assistance, and judge those who forwent help and exacted a blood price on those they perceived as having wronged them.
      He did not look forward to this particular portion of his future.
      âTraditionally, a runner would bring and deliver the invitation to a political summit, usually a Seeker,â Ultra Magnus continued, returning to his standard posture, hands clasped behind his back, but his voice wasnât as distant as it had been when he and Starscream had begun their discussion. He could not yet trust Starscream, but he did not believe the Seeker would have come if he were not concerned for his people. âThe possibility exists this runner could be assassinated, or kidnapped. Furthermore, any communications between ourselves could be intercepted by hostile forces. Because of the fragile nature of our situation, and in the interest of expediting matters and securing our planet,â not his planet, their planet, âI would suggest the following precaution:â
     âThat we utilize a secured and encrypted frequency to facilitate communications monitored by a selected communications officer, or security officer, on either side and forego the traditions in light of the precarious nature we find ourselves in and refrain from utilizing any common or open comms that have seen a history of use.â
     Carefully, though not so slowly as to appear hesitant, Ultra Magnus drew out a data pad that Databank had accessed via their own privately, and highly encrypted, channel. The data pad was mostly blank and itself excessively encrypted. He offered it out to Starscream, his hand steady.
     âIf you would be amenable to my suggestion, my assistant and the mech with whom I would entrust such work, has already crafted, and encrypted such a channel. His name is Databank and he served as a Counter Intelligence Officer during the war. He hosts an impressive record and his work is impeccable.â He did not expect Starscream to agree right away, so he continued.
     âIf your preference is to have your own security officer first inspect the frequency, that too is acceptable. Caution is an admirable trait, and one that will continue to serve in the times to come.â
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âThat you are from Earth would necessitate that you are a carbon-based lifeform reliant on a specific atmosphere in order to survive,â Ultra Magnusâ optical ridge raised slightly. âThe same could be said of dogs, or cats, from your world arriving to Cybertron. They too are not human, but would perish all the same.â
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