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Chapter Text

    Lockdown and his crew warped back to Luna-1, with the missing people and a mysterious prisoner. Steve, Lockdown’s second-in-command, attempted to interview the missing people but they had no recollection of what had occurred. Their last memories were from 15 solar cycles ago, around the time they had gone missing. They appeared as if they were comatose during that time. However, the ones who had found them claimed that these mechs were deceased. They said the mysterious prisoner, who had willingly turned himself in and was currently detained in a stasis pod, was the one who resurrected them. As part of his duties as an Tyrest Accord Enforcer, Lockdown had to gather all the proper information from the ship the missing people were found on – The Lost Light. It took a while, but he finally identified the prisoner – a medi-jet by the name of Pharma from the Meandering Heights, Great River, Stanix. Pharma had previously been stationed in Messantine, a desolate snowy planet where the DJD stationed. Still, this didn't explain this unexpected heroic necromancy. However, Lockdown knew this case was far beyond his control and tried not to think of it.

    Turning to Steve, his triple-changer second-in-command, Lockdown said, “I can’t help but feel that I deserve getting involved with this mess. I’m not gonna lie, I left Luna-1 because those zombies – er, terrorcons creeped me out.”

    “Me too!” said Steve. “You’re not the only one. That’s why we didn’t hesitate to retreat and grabbed some lukewarm coffee that’s been sitting out for hours instead.”

    “Still, after assessing these ‘missing people’ who are like a dozen, they seem…normal,” said Lockdown. “The scans detected no abnormalities. This case is strange, not creepy but chilling nonetheless.”

    The pilot, Lugnut, spoke on the intercom, “The space bridge has appeared. We’ll be in Luna-1 shortly.” The ship went through the space bridge and arrived in the hangar at Luna-1. The legislators were there awaiting the missing people and escorted them to a safe location, while they tried to get in contact with their families. Lockdown’s phone began to ring, it was from one of his deputies, Hardshell.

    “Boss…the prisoner…he’s dead,” said Hardshell.

    “What?!” asked Lockdown, as he hurried back inside his ship. He went to the stasis pod and saw that Pharma had become so desaturated that he was now a deathly gray.

    Hardshell leaned over and whispered, “Can we still harvest him for parts?”

    “No,” said Lockdown, “I told the chief justice about him. Besides, once they’re gray like this the parts are useless. If you tried to transplant them, you’d get gangrene. Get the stretcher. I’ll wheel him to the medibay and you disinfect this stasis pod.” Lockdown reached at a nearby table and handed a pair of gloves to Hardshell. After putting on his own pair, Lockdown placed Pharma on the stretcher that Hardshell had brought. But something was strange, the prisoner was still warm, as if he lived, yet the scans insisted that he was dead.

    Before he started scrubbing, Hardshell handed Lockdown a large tarp and they threw it over the prisoner. Unfortunately, Pharma’s feet were so big that the tarp didn’t cover them. Taking a chance, Lockdown threw away his gloves and donned new ones. Then, he pulled out his teleporter and used it to teleport Pharma and himself to the medibay. Although Lockdown had calculated the exact location, he miscalculated the draft the teleporting did and the tarp he had placed on Pharma slid off of him. To make matters worse, the missing people were also right there in that exact same spot.

    Fortunately, for Lockdown, Pharma was no longer gray and had returned to his normal red, white, and blue color-scheme. Pharma sat up and had a stupid confused look on his face. Angry, Lockdown grabbed him by the throat and said, “Sit your aft back down, you b*llshit chameleon!”

    The missing people gasped at Lockdown’s cruel treatment of an innocent jet. At this point, Lockdown was so mad that he didn’t even care. Although Pharma brandished the symbol of the Guiding Hand god, Adaptus, as his badge, Lockdown could tell Pharma was another annoying Autobot. And of course, Lockdown had no respect for such mechs.

    Just then, the chief justice entered the medibay. He was a tall green angelic jet, whose helm resembled a large golden crown. His face was a warm coppery color and his eyes were golden like honey. He was accompanied by a priest named Laster, who reached his waist. Laster was a blue-eyed black masked mech with yellow arms and wore a necklace with a white crystal on it. The white crystal immediately began to glow brightly like a flash bomb. The chief justice used his cape to shield his eyes from the light, as Laster tried to grab it. Once Laster had it secured, he approached the missing mechs with the chief justice, who went to observe and help.

    The chief justice also saw Lockdown roughly handling Pharma. He tapped Laster’s shoulder, “Shouldn’t you assess that suspect instead? The one who mass resurrected everyone.”

    As Laster approached the prisoner, the crystal began to glow so brightly that Laster could see the bones in his hands, as his metallic flesh was illuminated by the light as if it were alabaster. Lockdown’s eyes widened when he saw the crystal glow. He let go of Pharma as Laster approached him.

    The chief justice then turned his attention to the missing people. Seeing that they were appalled by Lockdown’s actions, the chief justice tried to divert attention away from him and said to them, “I have been informed that your families have been located. Now it’s just a matter of getting in touch with them.”

    One of the mechs raised his hand and the chief justice pointed at him, giving him permission to speak. The mech asked, “That fast? It’s been like…” The mech held out his hands and tried to count his fingers. He messed up and tried again. Satisfied with his calculations he said, “…Almost 5 hours. Amazing.”

    The chief justice smiled, even though it had been only 3 hours that had passed. He checked his phone and had received a notification that they had gotten in contact with one of the missing people’s surviving relatives. He checked the photo and the name, before saying, “Which one of you is Nova Storm?”

    “Here I am!” said a purple and yellow jet femme, who had matched the photo.

    The chief justice handed her the phone and guided her to a nearby room so she could speak with her relative in private.

    Another missing mech approached the chief justice and asked him, “What’s the deal with that radioactive crystal? That guy must be so hardcore for still holding onto it.”

    “It’s a very rare milky white energon crystal sometimes referred to as ‘holy energon’,” said the chief justice. “Just like dark energon is believed to be the blood of Unicron, holy energon is believed to be the blood of Primus. It glows brightly in the presence of more holy energon but its light doesn’t burn.”

    Meanwhile, Pharma was confused and concerned over the bright glow of the crystal – surely it was burning Laster’s hand. (Like the others, Pharma had no idea its light was only harmful to the profane.) Laster moved his glowing hand closer to Pharma which caused Pharma’s chassis to open and reveal his spark chamber. However, the circuitry around the spark chamber had a similar circular pattern to Adaptus’ symbol. Still looking at Pharma’s spark-chamber, Laster said coldly, “Lockdown, please call over the chief justice.”

    Lockdown approached the chief justice and said to him, “Laster wants to speak with you.”

    The chief justice replied, “Alright. Thank you and you’re dismissed to resume your duties. We’ll take it from here.” He turned to the missing people and said, "I'll be right back."

    As soon as the chief justice was within hearing distance, Laster said, “This mech is the reincarnation of Adaptus. He has tapped into his divine energy and used it to mass resurrect these missing people. There is no need to investigate his actions, we know what he did.”

    “What?” asked Pharma, who had no idea what had occurred because he was unconscious when it happened.

    Upon hearing his answer, both Laster and the chief justice glared at him. Pharma regretted opening his mouth and knew he was going to be in for an unwelcoming stay.

Chapter Text

    Pharma was filled with immense shame for having made a bad first impression in front of two very important mechs. Sensing his distress, the chief justice began to coo at Pharma. Pharma froze, surprised at even hearing the sound which brought forth emotions he never felt before. Overwhelmed, Pharma began to cry.

    Feeling awful for what he had done, the chief justice handed Laster his staff and tried to comfort Pharma with a hug. “No…I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m so sorry for hurting you…”

    Taking a deep breath, Pharma said to the chief justice, “This is the first time anyone has ever cooed to me…not even my own dam…”

    (Parental jets coo at their sparklings to calm them down and comfort them. The sound brings almost immediate relief to a sparkling because it triggers the intrinsic trust a sparkling should have with their parent. This feeling doesn’t diminish with age. Obviously, only jets who have raised sparklings can make this sound because it’s a locked ability.)

    Horrified, the chief justice continued to coo and cradle Pharma in his arms, like a sparkling. Pharma noticed his reflection on the chief justice’s staff. Despite his complete reformatting, Pharma still had his very youthful reflection; he literally looked like a sparkling. That’s what he saw being cradled and comforted by the chief justice. The reflection horrified him. He assumed the reformatting would've healed him and finally give him a normal reflection. But it appeared that healing only works on the living and Pharma had indeed died a long time ago. For a moment, he wondered if the reformatting had turned him back to a sparkling. He felt the chief justice was treating him like one. (To be fair, larger mechs like the chief justice sometimes babied the smaller ones since they're "child-sized" by comparison.) Still, this reminded him of one of the first interactions he ever had with his mentor, Ratchet.

    Pharma had trouble adjusting to his move from Stanix to the distant med school. Jets are social creatures and he was more alone than ever. He had come to Ratchet’s office to discuss the results of a quiz. (Although he passed the quiz with a 7, he still needed to speak with his instructor over the results.) During this conversation, he was suddenly so overwhelmed by his emotions that he couldn’t stop sobbing. Ratchet, of course comforted him, something Pharma wasn’t used to. Prior to this, Pharma was used to others scolding him and mocking him for having any sort of emotional "outburst." Perhaps that was why he became attached to Ratchet, the comforting affection he received from him felt so refreshing and that made Pharma want more.

    Pharma was almost beginning to feel the same way about the chief justice. This embarrassed him because he didn’t even know the chief justice's name, only that he had clearly had his own offspring. Pharma was also conflicted because it felt like he was rejecting Ratchet and all he had done for him, in exchange for a majestic, yet mysterious jet. Fortunately, the confusion lessened his distress enough that the chief justice let him go. He spoke to Laster, before going back to meet with the missing people and getting his phone back from the femme he lent it to. 

    Laster, who had already put away his crystal deep in his subspace said, “Relax…You’re not in trouble. I tend to forget that a lot of divine reincarnations aren’t typically from overly religious backgrounds.” 

    “My whole family is atheist…,” replied Pharma, “I think. They never seemed to believe in any sort of divine higher power. They only cared about money but we were all poor.”

    Laster raised an eyebrow.

    “Yeah, like religion was mostly non-existent growing up,” said Pharma. “I even thought my mentor was one of those silver-faced atheists that belittles religion any chance he gets, but then I found out that he just thinks Neo-Primalism is full of scrap. He can't stand it and roasts it every time.”

    “About that,” said Laster, “I’m sure now that you’ve channeled Adaptus, you have a better insight regarding your faith. What is his opinion on Neo-Primalism?.”

  Pharma blinked. He didn't know much about religion or theology, except for what he heard Ratchet complain about. First Aid was also a Neo-Primalist, but his way of worship was indistinguishable from his own family's non-religious superstitious beliefs. "Adaptus offended by the disrespect towards his brother, Mortilus. It also saddens him that Megatronus and Liege Maximus are disrespected too. The extreme sensitization has become sacrilegious. Why were their books removed from The Covenant of Primus?"

   "The reason is that they betrayed the Pantheon," said Laster. "But ancient scrolls we have recovered from Vector Sigma make no mention of this betrayal."

   Pharma nodded, he still didn’t understand the Cybertronian religion. (Mostly because there's so much overlap between the multiple sects and people are sometimes active under multiple sects. Some of these sects are devoted to a particular god from the Guiding Hand. Others are devoted to one of the original Thirteen Primes. Some of them worship every single member of the pantheon, while others reject the "traitors". All of them do worship Primus and reject Unicron.) Suddenly, Pharma felt his vision going dark. Fearing embarrassing himself in front of Laster, Pharma fought against this strong desire until he regained his own consciousness.

    “Still, your arrival is an omen of good fortune,” said Laster. “Come, I must take you to my friends, who are fellow priests. They’re excited to meet you.”

    Feeling like he didn't have much of a choice, Pharma followed Laster to the chapel. Looking at the repetitive golden hexagonal walls of the compound's hallways, Pharma asked, “How do you not get lost in here? I feel like we’ve been walking around in circles.”

    Chuckling, Laster pulled out a small device from his wrist that had a map on it. They were going in the right direction and had not been walking around in circles. “The chief justice designed these for ‘trusted guests’. As for the interior design, blame insecticons. They always have to turn everything into a labyrinth to ‘protect the queen’ and to trap enemies.”

    They continued to walk for a bit when Pharma asked, “Are you from the Circle of Light?”

    Surprised by the question, Laster replied, “Yes. How did you know?”

    “My mentor has this adopted son named ‘Drift’ and you two look very similar,” said Pharma. “I’ve been told that your sect is one of the ones who practices body modification. There is an emphasis on looking like ‘elegant warriors’.”

    Laster burst out laughing. “I remember Drift, he was a troublesome one. He annoyed our Supereme Commander, Dai Atlas. But I can’t blame Drift, the poor kid was going through a very rough time – severe spiritual distress caused by a lifetime of crime and godlessness.”

    “Well, that’s how Decepticons are,” replied Pharma. “They’re always looking to start trouble.”

    “No, you misunderstand,” said Laster, whose expression suddenly became quite serious. “Drift was ‘troublesome’ because he’s so proactive. In our sect, we follow a strict warrior code and this code has been subject to debate for many years. Dai Atlas wanted us to train and become skilled, but not to fight for what we believe in. Our friend and leader, Star Saber, wants us to fight because training without a cause is in vain. Drift seemed to agree with Star Saber and the rest of us, except he doesn’t want to bring death to unbelievers. Coward. But then, he defected from his ‘faction’, so there was already some cowardice inside of him.”

    Pharma tried to remain calm. He was scared of what Laster would say about him, for running away from his problems since it was clear that Laster only respected those who stayed and fought until the end. But at the same time, Laster was far away from Theophany. So to Pharma, Laster either “ran away” or was excommunicated – both of which would quickly sour the conversation if brought up.

    Wanting to lighten the mood and not derail the subject too much, Pharma said, “Drift has two sparklings. They’re twins and I think they’re like 5 or 6 solar cycles old. Their names are Jetstorm and Sliptream, and I was told they were named after two people who had a significant positive impact in Drift’s life.”

    “That’s…that’s so sweet,” said Laster. “As you know, names are very important to us. They define who we are and who we can become. My parents named me ‘Laster’ because they sensed tenacity within me. Wait, what’s your name? I don’t think they even told me.”

    “Pharma,” replied Pharma.

    “What a specific name, perfect for a healer,” said Laster, who only then noticed the medical cross-hair emblems on both of his wings. Playing it cool, Laster added, “It’s good to see you studied medicine. Your family must’ve sensed you would become a great doctor.”

    Pharma smiled, but then he remembered hearing anecdotes about his carrier trying to drink various potions to induce a miscarriage, yet Pharma still survived. He was obviously named after the mix of concoctions that had failed to get rid of him. Naturally, this was one reason he studied medicine, to change the meaning of his name and identity.

    When they entered the chapel, Laster introduced him to the other priests; a blue and red, blue-visored scientist named Braver, a red silver-faced barbarian/cleric named Blacker, a tall black and white shuttle named Galaxy Shuttle, and finally a tall stately convoy-looking jet named Star Saber.

    Star Saber spoke abruptly, “Where are your hands?”

    Laster’s eyes widened because he didn’t even notice that either.

    “A Unicron cultist cut them off and for some reason they didn’t reattach when I got reformatted,” replied Pharma. “They must’ve landed somewhere far away from the rest of my body.”

    Suddenly, Laster’s phone began to ring. It was from the chief justice. Laster put it on speakerphone.

    “Laster, where are you?” asked the chief justice.

    “I’m at the chapel,” replied Laster.

    “Is the Reincarnation of Adaptus with you?” asked the chief justice.

    “Yes Sir,” said Laster.

    “Good, please tell him to come over, I have a present for him,” said the chief justice, who activated a ground bridge that opened up in the chapel.

    Laster and the other priests encouraged Pharma to walk through the ground bridge. Excited, but nervous about this ‘gift’ Pharma walked through the ground bridge and into an engineering workshop.

Chapter Text

    The chief justice was at the engineering workshop, accompanied by his long-time friend and former Autobot High Council Chairman, Emirate Xaaron. Xaaron was a small golden tankformer whose helm had a silvery crown. He barely reached the chief justice's thigh. Xaaron was curious about the gift, which the chief justice had hidden under a towel. Annoyed, the chief justice said, “Stop being so nosy.”

    “Tyrest, I just want to know what kind of gift you’re planning to give the Reincarnation of Adaptus,” said Xaaron as he tried to lift the towel, but the chief justice quickly put his hand over Xaaron’s. Although Tyrest applied gentle pressure on Xaaron’s hand, it was enough for Xaaron to be able to feel what was beneath the towel. And Xaaron felt something – bony.

    “Well, I want to know exactly what you told those missing people, to make the majority of these neutrals interested in becoming Autobots," replied Tyrest.

    “There’s nothing I needed to say,” said Xaaron, “they made the right choice for themselves.”

    Tyrest narrowed his eyes. The truth was that Xaaron was right. He didn’t need to say anything. The missing people just saw Lockdown, a Decepticon, rough-handle the mech credited for giving them a second-chance at life and they found it offensive. Most neutrals, of course, liked to be with the “right side” and in this case it was the Autobots. Especially since it was Emirate Xaaron and his mentee, the famous detective Nightbeat, who were so quick and diligent to search for their families.

    Unsatisfied with the truth, Tyrest withdrew his hand and looked through the ground bridge when he heard Pharma approach. Upon seeing Pharma, Xaaron gasped and asked, “Pharma?”

    “You know this mech?” asked the chief justice.

    “Of course,” replied Xaaron. “He is Ratchet’s, the Autobots’ CMO, most gifted student. I’ve heard much about him, including the claim of the 0% morality rate during his experimental surgeries.”

    Overhearing Xaaron, Pharma smiled. Despite regularly boasting about that accomplishment, Pharma was ashamed of it because he occasionally used necromancy to keep the mortality rate at 0%. The guilt of “cheating” was starting to get to him, because Emirate Xaaron wasn’t a mech who complemented anyone easily, and Pharma felt unworthy of the praise.

    Meanwhile, Tyrest looked through the Autopedia with his phone, to see who Ratchet was. He was indeed familiar. Tyrest remembered disliking Ratchet’s pessimistic attitude but he seemed like a good, hardworking and compassionate person. After quickly putting away his phone, Tyrest said, “I can’t wait to show you the present!”

    Pharma hurried to the table, wondering if the gift was worth the hype.

    Smiling, Tyrest lifted the towel to reveal a pair of dismembered, blank forearms with their hands attached. Xaaron gasped, shocked at the sight of such a morbid gift. But it was then, that he noticed that Pharma’s hands had been cleanly cut off.

    Pharma’s eyes widened and he looked at Tyrest, mumbling, “Thank you…”

    “You’re welcome,” replied Tyrest. “These aren’t just any type of hands. They’re experimental upgrades, confiscated from Tyrest Accord violators. I always feel bad about destroying upgrades like this. High-quality blank parts for transplants are often difficult to come by. I usually reserve these upgrades for injured enforcers and deputies, because I can trust that they would never use them to harm innocents. But you, you’re the Reincarnation of Adaptus, and you have saved countless lives as a doctor… for you, these hands are fully deserved.”

    “So…what do they do?” asked Xaaron.

    Tyrest reached over, grabbing the right hand and squeezing its wrist, making it extend its claws. From the claws, several lasers. After retracting the hand’s claws, Tyrest said, “Infiltrate."

    “Does this mean they can turn into anything?” asked Pharma excitedly.

    “No,” replied Tyrest. “That’s…that’s physically impossible. They can just hack into practically anything and grant you temporary invisibility.”

    Disappointed, Pharma asked, “Um…I don’t want to sound picky, much less ungrateful, but can I make a request?”

    “Go ahead,” replied Tyrest.

    “Can you engrave a transmutation circle into the right hand’s palm?” asked Pharma. “My old hand had that engraving to facilitate my alchemy. When I did it on myself, it hurt so much. Engraving the blank before the transplant won't cause me pain.”

    Pharma projected the transmutation circle he wanted onto the table. Tyrest hurried and found an engraving pen in a drawer. Pharma projected the circle again, as Tyrest engraved it perfectly onto the hand. As soon as he finished, Pharma said, “Can you also make it to where the right hand also turns into a chainsaw? Please…”

    “You told me you only had a request,” replied Tyrest as he applied a soothing, antibiotic balm on the freshly engraved hand. 

    “This is a bonus one,” replied Pharma as he immediately regretted the words that came out of his mouth. He was also starting to feel immense guilt for lying to Tyrest. Pharma never had a transmutation circle engraved into his hand. He was too scared to do it himself because it would hurt, but he always wanted one.

    Tyrest chuckled, amused by Pharma’s wit.

    “I thought surgeons used circular saws,” replied Xaaron as he observed Tyrest bandaging the hand.

    “A chainsaw feels more natural,” said Pharma. He had no idea why he wanted one so badly but then he realized; that in a different timeline, the chainsaw was his weapon of choice. However, he wasn’t a talented surgeon, but a maniacal murderer. Still, Pharma had to figure out a way to consolidate and balance both timelines to become truly holistic.

    Tyrest ordered Xaaron to fetch him a chainsaw he had in the nearby utility closet, and worked to incorporate it into the right forearm. Xaaron assisted Tyrest by shining a light from his phone.

    Pharma was bothered by the fact that neither Tyrest nor Xaaron were using face-masks during the procedure. But then, they weren't proper medics. (Pharma also trusted that both had washed their hands because they were the hygienic types.) When Tyrest was finished, he called Pharma over and Xaaron helped Pharma to a nearby stool. It was then that Tyrest realized that he needed anesthetic.

    “Xaaron, please call the clinic and ask them for trampolizers,” said Tyrest.

    Xaaron blinked, momentarily caught off-guard by the mispronunciation. He called the clinic and requested the tranquilizers, only for the operator to "correct" him and call them "trampolizers" instead.

    Within moments, a legislator holding a surgery kit, two syringes, and a vial of local anesthetic, walked through the ground-bridge. Tyrest remained calm as soon as he saw the surgery kit. He had forgotten all about it and felt so ashamed for embarrassing himself in front of Pharma, one of Cybertron's best surgeons. However, Pharma was so used to having to resort to crude unhygienic methods at Delphi (a defunct Autobot hospital) that he didn't even notice that Tyrest had done anything wrong. Xaaron got the disinfectant wipes and started wiping Pharma's forearms as Tyrest calculated the dosage of the anesthetic. Pharma was surprised that Tyrest asked him to double-check on the dosage, his own teammates back at Delphi never did that. When Pharma confirmed it was correct, Tyrest prepared the second syringe, lightly recapped it, and put it aside. Meanwhile, Pharma couldn't help but feel unsettled by the legislator who was staring at him, with his red eyes wide open. 

    To play it safe, Tyrest decided to install the left arm. As he reached over to grab the left arm, he stopped. Without turning around, he asked the legislator, "Do you need something?"

    The legislator shook his head and activated the ground-bridge to return to the clinic. Tyrest frowned, he didn't mean to ask the legislator to leave and had assumed he was curious about the surgery since it wasn't being performed in the clinic. Tyrest grabbed the arm as Pharma donned his face-mask. It was then that Tyrest remembered that he needed to put one on too. Fortunately, Xaaron had gotten the face-mask from the kit, raised his stool and helped Tyrest put it on. (Even though it was an awkward fit because his chin got in the way.) After injecting the local anesthetic and waiting for it to take effect, Tyrest began to work, as Pharma observed.

    Curious, Xaaron asked, “How is the chief justice doing? In terms of technique?”

    Surprised by the question, Pharma replied, “He’s doing great! The two doctors I had to work with at my old place weren’t even as close to competent as the chief justice. But then, Delphi was the worst hospital, and they had dumped us there in those remote outskirts.”

    The complement was enough to relax the chief justice, who worked quickly to install the arm. When he was finished, he began to work on the other one. Unfortunately, he was so excited to finish the job that he injected Pharma’s right arm with sedative, when Pharma had yet not finished metabolizing the previous dose. Because Pharma was quietly observing, neither Tyrest nor Xaaron noticed that Pharma was high out of his mind.

    Pharma yawned and asked Tyrest, “Are you my fairy godmother?”

    It was then that Tyrest realized his grave mistake, that he had given Pharma too much sedative, overdosing him. Calmly, he replied, “What do you think…?”

    “That you are,” replied Pharma. “I mean, how come you’re so madly talented? That’s gotta be magic; there’s no other explanation. You’re also being unnaturally nice to me with your…helping. Everyone else hates my guts and wants me gone.”

    Concerned, Tyrest replied, “It’s common courtesy. You must be polite to others, unless they are heartless criminals who want to shed the blood of the innocent.”

    Pharma giggled. “There’s nothing ‘common’ about your courtesy. That’s good because it makes it rare and rare things are always more valuable, so they’re worth treasuring.” Pharma yawned again, only to change color and turn into a denim blue. His demeanor was different and he appeared to be fully conscious.

    “Forgive my sudden interruption, but I had to take control from my reincarnation,” replied Pharma. “He was about to say some deeply personal things that he would regret talking about so soon.”

    Tyrest froze, his hands had gone numb as soon as Pharma had channeled Adaptus. Without a second thought, Xaaron tried to finish the surgery as Adaptus observed. Fortunately, Tyrest was almost done and he only needed to solder the plating shut.

    Unlike Tyrest, Xaaron wasn’t scared or intimidated by Adaptus. In fact, he was calm and more cheerful. When he finished, Adaptus inspected the arms and said nothing, though he did smile at both Tyrest and Xaaron. He then began to reformat his body, to quicken the installation process. As soon as he was done, Adaptus changed back to the regular Pharma colors. Pharma shook his head and looked at his arms. The blank hands now matched his plating. “Thanks.”

    He noticed that Tyrest was still frozen and was confused. Clearing his throat, Pharma began to chirp like a young sparkling, which seemed to snap Tyrest out of his trance-like state.

    Taking off his mask, Tyrest hurried to assess Pharma. Meanwhile, Xaaron’s phone received a text message and he went to check it. It was from his mentee, Nightbeat. Xaaron’s eyes widened and he hurried out of the engineering workshop.

    Tyrest shook his head. “Typical. He leaves right before cleaning up.”

    “I’ll help you,” said Pharma.

    “No, you need to rest your hands,” said Tyrest as he disposed of the syringes in the sharps container and examined the remnants of Pharma’s old arms. “Do you still want these?”

    “No,” replied Pharma.

    “Alright,” said Tyrest as he put them in a biohazard bag. “First I need to stop by the clinic and then…well, we’ll figure it out from there, sounds good?”

    “Yes Sir,” replied Pharma.

    Tyrest grabbed his staff and activated the ground-bridge. He told Pharma to walk ahead as he turned around and made sure everything was back to how it was before.

Chapter Text

    As Pharma tried to get used to all that occurred to him, the Brainmasters had resumed their meeting. They had gotten distracted by Pharma, especially when he had mentioned that a Unicron cultist had cut off his hands. Since they were among the company of friends, meaning each other, they all expressed their collective disgust about the situation.

    Long ago, before Pharma was even thought of, much less conceived, the Brainmasters were all a group of innocent warrior youths, from a Primalist sect called the Circle of Light. As part of their Cybertronian religious beliefs, part of their worship included both sword fighting and preaching. Since this group was always particularly devout, they were also some of the best warriors. For this reason, they were hired as mercenaries to both protect and preach to the local villagers. As a precaution, they always traveled as a group. 

    However, on that fateful day, one of their companions fell ill and was unable to join them. As they were still a presumably sizable group, they continued their routine patrol around the area. Suddenly, they were ambushed by a group of about a dozen bandits. As always, these brave warriors told the bandits that they had nothing except their weapons. But the bandits didn't care about their money or possessions. Immediately afterwards, the bandits revealed themselves to be Unicron Cultists. In the face of that, Brainmasters stood firm to defend themselves and the villagers. (After all, Unicron Cultists embrace “Chaos,” which is an abstract concept difficult to understand. But the majority of Unicron Cultists take it to mean “cause trouble.”)

    Unfortunately, not even being in a group was enough to protect the warrior youths against an ambush by Unicron cultists. The Brainmasters refrained from going into details about the torture they endured at the hands of these Unicron Cultists, all in the name of Primus, whom they were bound to serve. To think that the same thing had happened to Pharma was unspeakable! However, the Brainmasters made the assumption that Pharma had channeled Adaptus during his own ambush, and the only damage he received was the loss of his hands. But the truth was that it had been so much worse in the original timeline.

    In this timeline, a group of Unicron Cultists were searching for the Reincarnation of Adaptus. The Reincarnation of Adaptus was particularly threatening to them because his purpose in life was to cleanse and control – undoing much of the damage caused by “Chaos.”

    According to the oldest legends, the Reincarnations of the Guiding Hand had resplendently white sparks. Normally, this wasn’t something that was easily observed since a mech’s chassis had to be opened in order to see the color of their spark. However, these white sparks glowed even brighter in the presence of Holy Energon, which was white. The crystalized form of Holy Energon was sometimes known as a “milk crystal” because it was an opaque milky white.

    These Unicron Cultists who were searching for the Reincarnation of Adaptus were being guided by a milk crystal necklace they acquired. (Presumably this milk crystal necklace was stolen from some Circle of Light warriors their peers had encountered many years ago.) They had eventually made their way to Stanix, a city-state located quite far from the Sea of Rust where Adaptica was believed to be located. According to the crystal, the reincarnation lived in a village by the Great River. It was a seemingly quiet location in which no one would suspect such a holy mech would reside in. 

    However, it was difficult to search because Cybertronian Villagers were distrustful of any strangers, especially those who were seeking somebody. But none of the villagers they spotted during the day were the Reincarnation of Adaptus. Since they were close, they waited for nightfall to resume their search. In the meantime, they hid in the ruins of the ancient necropolis nearby. Since Cybertronian Villagers were generally superstitious folks, they wouldn’t come near the necropolis.

    However, the Reincarnation of Adaptus wasn’t an ordinary villager, so he came to them. They were alerted of his presence when the milk crystal suddenly began to glow like a light bomb, which they frantically tried to hide as they worried it would expose their hideout. For some reason, the cultists didn’t expect for the Reincarnation of Adaptus to be a young jetling. And yet, this jetling was Rustic in appearance. (The crystal didn't even need to glow to see that this was the holy mech they sought, but it did so anyway. After all, Unicron Cultists supposedly loved “Chaos.”) 

    Although the Unicron Cultists could've offlined the little sparkling where he stood, a wicked entity appeared to them and suggested that they take him instead. According to this accursed Cybertronian who reeked of Dark Energy, he insisted that taking the sparkling would've been a delicious irony; to turn this precious innocent sparkling into a cold-blooded death machine, who wouldn't hesitate to attack Primalists. The suggesting and justification for it sent chills down the Unicron Cultists’ spines. They had no doubt that this mysterious mech was one of Unicron’s Heralds, especially since he vanished before their eyes.

    Heeding his advice, they captured the sparking and cursed him by engraving a necromantic sigil on his vocalizer. However, in his fear, the sparkling activated his newfound necromantic ability and raised all of the ancient corpses in the necropolis. Since these undead were compelled to protect their necromancer, the Unicron Cultists fled with the sparkling, as the undead burned down the village killing the rest of the villagers. 

    There’s no doubt that this sparkling, the Reincarnation of Adaptus, had reason to fear the villagers, including his own family. (It’s why the undead viewed the villagers as one of their necromancer’s enemies.) However, not once did any of these Unicron Cultists think that perhaps they should make an effort to get on the Reincarnation of Adaptus’ “good side.” Instead, they abused him. The cruel treatment that the sparkling endured hardened his spark to the point that he sought revenge on his captors. 

    One day, no longer caring about his own life, the Reincarnation of Adaptus poisoned their food supply thanks to his immense knowledge of poisons and potions. He felt no guilt or remorse for his actions, because he justified it as “purification,” something he felt he was compelled to do. After his figurative taste for blood, he decided to turn on the rest of Unicron Cultists and hunt them all down. Unfortunately, as much as they tried to change who he was, they were unable to change his innate desire to purge the wicked. He murdered so many mechs that it was said that the great Necrobot, the Reincarnation of Mortilus, was jealous of the death and destruction that this defiled holy mech had caused. 

    Ultimately, this corrupted mech was captured by none other than the Primalists, who were the only ones who could subdue him. He was difficult to kill because his Holy Energon made him partially immune to their attacks. But, this mech was smart-enough to bind some of his spark inside an object. (After all, the logical evolution of a necromancer is a lich, and these powerful sapient undead bind their sparks to an object to avoid being banished to the AllSpark.) In the Reincarnation of Adaptus’ case, he chose a vintage video game cabinet. His choice was not only unusual, but he had faint memories of always wanting to play with one since he was a sparkling. (His parents told him that they couldn't afford to give him a coin to play with for at least one round.)

    These Primalists had the chance to destroy the vintage video game cabinet, but they couldn't. Although he was defiled, they felt it was a great sin to do this to the Reincarnation of Adaptus. For this reason, they decided to store his video game cabinet on board the Lost Light. They hoped that whenever the Lost Light performed a quantum leap, it would seal away this cursed mech so he would never hurt anyone again. (Apparently, a quantum leap was capable of slightly altering the timeline.) Fortunately, their plan worked. As the Lost Light performed quantum leaps, this cursed mech's spark was unable to escape, as it was slowly separated from the rest of its spark.

    However, in this timeline, Swerve found the video game cabinet and decided to set it up in his bar to attract more customers and keep them around. As devout a Primalist as he was, he failed to see the danger, even if the decorations in the cabinet were creepy. But by Adaptus' divine grace, Pharma was also on board. 

    Enough had changed between the timelines that Pharma only suffered a crappy childhood growing up in the village instead of a hellish one with the Unicron Cultists. And of course, the rest is history, because Pharma was able to combine with this missing spark piece, purging it, and completing himself in the process. 

    But as things needed to repeat themselves, Pharma had to have his hands cut off. Fortunately, he'd be in a position to get state-of-the-art experimental new hands that would help him heal others. In other words, thanks to destiny, Pharma had a new life in which he'd be safe and do what he was put on Cybertron to do – cure.

Chapter Text

    Just as Tyrest had said, he and Pharma had gone to the clinic to drop off Pharma's old arms to refurbish them (or recycle them for parts, depending on their condition). Unlike organics, Cybertronians do not "decay" easily since their bodies are composed of a resistant material known as "living metal." But they are still susceptible to rusting. Fortunately, most medics know how to safely store body parts, for future use – in case someone else needs a transplant.

    Curious, Tyrest asked Pharma, “Have you ever dealt with organ removal and preservation before?”

    Pharma immediately blushed, since he had experience thanks to Tarn coming to Delphi to demand t-cog transplants. He nodded.

    “How exactly do you preserve parts and know if they’re fit for use?” asked Tyrest. “We can talk over at my office. I’m not too busy right now, and would enjoy the company.”

    “Alright,” nodded Pharma, as Tyrest activated another ground-bridge to his office. 

    It wasn’t that Tyrest was impatient, but he remembered that he had a lot of work to do. (However, he didn't mind listening to conversation while working.) When they entered the office, Tyrest offered Pharma a seat, so he could tell him about Cybertronian organ storage. After all, Tyrest enjoyed learning new things like this.

    As soon as Pharma got seated, he explained the process of Cybertronian organ storage – which was as straightforward as he was making it sound. The key was storing the organs in a clean, dark, well-ventilated receptacle, and making sure that they were completely drained of any excess circulatory energon.

    Unfortunately, no amount of careful storage could prevent the infamous Gold Plastic Syndrome (abbreviated as GPS). Researchers have no idea what causes this condition. Some speculate it’s due to a nutritional deficiency during gestation, and the forming sparkling’s living metal carapace is missing a crucial element, which becomes apparent during adulthood. In GPS, the affected body parts suddenly crumble and need to be replaced. These body parts don’t even need to be connected to a mech or even in use, before they succumb to the sudden crumble. Many doctors have found crumbled remains in their organ banks, which already makes finding suitable replacement parts even more difficult.

    Just then, Pharma noticed a vintage arcade cabinet in the corner of Tyrest’s office. Without thinking twice, he asked, “Does it work?”

    “Yes, but the speakers don't work,” said Tyrest. “You can play with it, if you want. There’s a bowl of coins next to it that you can use just for the game.”

    Before Tyrest even finished speaking, Pharma hurried over to the arcade cabinet and powered it on. Since it was an older device, it took a while to become fully operational. Casually, Pharma said to Tyrest, “There was one of these in the village inn and it cost one coin per turn. But my family insisted that that was a lot of money to spend, so they didn't give me any money to play at least one round, and it took me a long time to save up on my own.”

    “Inflation was pretty bad back then, so I don’t blame your parents for thinking that an arcade game was a frivolous expense,” replied Tyrest. “Ironically, the Great War has somehow stabilized currency values and everything is far more affordable now. Besides, I presume you’re a responsible adult with a steady income. So you’re now free to indulge yourself in gaming as you’ve always desired.”

    Pharma smiled. Even though Tyrest had a completely rational point, it wasn’t the same. The fun that a sparkling experiences is unlike what a grown mech feels. To Pharma, it was barely any consolation. But before he had a chance to think of this further, the arcade cabinet was ready to be used. Pharma grabbed a coin and started the first round of the game.

    The game was one of those simple spaceship games that blasted aliens and asteroids. Pharma had no idea what the game was called, since the writing on it was in Decepticon script.

    Without looking up, Tyrest said, “The game is known as ‘Orbital Guardian.’ It was a gift from a member of Decepticon High Command – Soundwave. Before you ask, I made sure the arcade cabinet wasn’t bugged. The Legislators and I took it apart, and rebuilt it.”

    Since Pharma was still affected by the anesthesia, he wasn’t too annoyed about playing a Decepticon video game and inserted a coin to play. Fortunately, due to the nature of the game, it helped Pharma slowly regain consciousness, since the game required the player to be observant and have a quick reaction.

    “I regularly receive gifts from both factions,” said Tyrest, as he read through a datapad. “It’s a shame they both want to bribe me, but mechs are like that. If they wish to please me, their leaders should renounce their egotism, and come to an agreement, which would end this war immediately. But Optimus Prime and Megatron are both one and the same.”

    “The Autobots are currently being led by Rodimus Prime, Optimus Prime’s son,” replied Pharma. “He seems different from his sire.” Pharma remembered meeting him briefly, and had a good impression of him. Rodimus was far more humble than he made himself out to be. (Pharma began to wonder if Rodimus pretended to be a “turbo-revving young punk” to confuse Decepticon strategists and propagandists.)

    Unfortunately, Tyrest didn’t know much about Rodimus, other than the fact he was Ultra Magnus’ conjunx endura. (Rodimus was listed under Ultra Magnus’ health insurance and received the education benefit, which was something he was taking advantage of.) 

    Sighing, Tyrest said, “If that’s the case, an armistice is uncertain. Megatron is too arrogant to make treaties with someone much younger than him who was born during the war. Many of Megatron's arguments, either directed to Optimus Prime or myself, had a personal plea – often asking us to remember the oppressive days of yore. As if his own plans for tyranny are any better.”

    Tyrest had no plans to elaborate, as it was a complicated topic, but he strongly disliked Megatron’s manipulative tactics that involved recalling the past. Often because Megatron’s perspective seemed far removed from anything that Tyrest had personally experienced. For this reason, Tyrest even doubted that Megatron was once a “humble miner,” because he lacked any sort of humility or tangible remembrance of his past. Like the typical revolutionary, Megatron preferred to use lethal force to achieve his goal. It was clear from his actions that he wasn’t doing any of this for the sake of the oppressed, especially because he treated freedom as a philosophy instead of a reality that affected countless lives.

    Unfortunately, since Tyrest was still the Chief Justice of the Tyrest Accord, he wasn’t allowed to voice his opinions regarding the Autobots or Decepticons. However, much could be inferred since Tyrest was an ex-Autobot who seemed to have a better grasp in Decepticon script. But these assumptions were usually erroneous because Tyrest hated Megatron, and for Megatron, the feeling was mutual.

    Pharma continued to play his game, while Tyrest continued to work.

    Nonchalantly, Tyrest said to Pharma, “Whenever you finish your round, let me know how many coins you’ve used and how many are still in the bowl. I just remembered that I took some coins from the bowl because someone asked me for change, and haven’t replaced the coins yet.”

    “Will do,” said Pharma, who was still playing on his second coin.

    Although Pharma didn’t want to admit it, he was able to play some arcade games during his childhood because he was always looking for loose change on the ground. He traded the coins to the innkeeper to have the correct type of coins to use in the arcade games. And since saving up for these games was difficult, Pharma tried his best to last as long as possible per coin and actually became very good. He was so good that sometimes the innkeeper let him play for free to the amusement of the clients who struggled to keep up with a simple sparkling. But since Pharma was out of practice, he wasn’t as good as he used to be. 

    As soon as he finished his current round, he went to count the coins in the bowl. After about a minute, Pharma said, “You have 42 coins in the bowl and I used 2.”

    Tyrest got up and pulled out 6 coins from his subspace, before walking over to the bowl and placing them inside. He usually kept 50 coins in the bowl and kept track of them. Fortunately, the Legislators and his visitors were honest folks who didn’t steal, and this often helped restore Tyrest’s faith in his fellow Cybertronians.

    Pharma then decided to stop playing and powered down the arcade cabinet, before walking over to Tyrest’s desk to speak with him until it was time for them to head to the dining hall for dinner. (And of course, they later ground-bridged there too.)

Chapter Text

    Meanwhile, Xaaron had not gotten far when he saw Nightbeat standing around the corner, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. It took Xaaron a moment to notice that his mentee was no longer bright blue and neon yellow, but was gold-plated instead. Unlike the majority of Cybertronians, Xaaron was not fooled by a simple palette swap. Looking up, Xaaron asked, “You found something?”

    “Yes,” replied Nightbeat, as he searched through his subspace, “my personalized graduation pen. I must’ve dropped it when I was exploring that hidden golden lagoon and tripped on a rock. Then, the pen rolled to the bottom of the lagoon. It’s difficult to see when I dived in, but I managed to find it, along with these.”

    Nightbeat pulled out a golden hide purse, filled with several antique coins.

    Xaaron inspected the hide purse and said, “It’s quite primitive in construction.”

    “Exactly,” said Nightbeat, as he opened the purse and showed Xaaron one of the coins. “These coins are primitive too. They’re stamped instead of molded but look at the symbol.” The antique coins had Adaptus’ symbol on them. “You know what this means? There is a chance that Adaptica might’ve been real after all. The legislators might know something about it. But I can’t understand their heavy accent. They sure seemed excited about the Reincarnation of Adaptus being here on Luna-1.”

    “Tyrest isn’t going to like this,” replied Xaaron.

    “Why not?” asked Nightbeat.

    “He doesn’t get along with the High Priest of Kalis,” said Xaaron. “Technically, he’s the Sea of Rust’s Archbishop and he worships Adaptus instead of Solomus, for some reason. Tyrest told me the High Priest is upset with him for naming the Autobot and Decepticon city-states respectively – Kalis and Tyrest. The High Priest wanted them to be called East Adaptica and West Adaptica, but Tyrest told him that only three people worshiped Adaptus in the entire Sea of Rust, therefore it was an unfair and biased suggestion.”

    “Whoa…” replied Nightbeat. “…That's harsh.”

    “I met the mech,” said Xaaron, “and he’s overbearing. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t worship Solomus. The Solomus sect tends to be very humble, but then the majority of the population used to be in extreme poverty. Thanks to Tyrest and his policies, this is no longer the case.”

    “Don’t you worship Adaptus too?” asked Nightbeat. “I mean, you are Iaconian and Adaptus is popular over there.”

    “Yes, as well as the other members of the Guiding Hand,” replied Xaaron. “Adaptus was so popular in Iacon that those Functionists pushed their corrupt agenda under his name just to get the people to accept it. The act was so blasphemous that I really don't think this moment is the right time to tell you why I hate it.” Xaaron took a deep breath and continued, “We must still give these coins to Tyrest and he’d know which legislator he should hand them to.”

    “Aw…” said Nightbeat, “I wanted to help find Adaptica…or at least the city that inspired its legend.”

    “Well, you’d have to ask Tyrest,” said Xaaron. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to set you up.”

    Nightbeat and Xaaron chatted as they rode in Nightbeat’s cart and headed to the dining room, located in Tyrest’s villa. “I could’ve sworn Tyrest’s compound was Adaptica.”

    “What makes you say that?” asked Xaaron.

    Nightbeat parked and pointed at a random floor tile. It had Adaptus’ symbol lightly etched on it. In fact, the symbol was on the walls and even on the decorations. Xaaron’s eyes widened. He hadn’t noticed them before. “To be fair, the way the legislators spoke about how demons attacked them – I’m sure they’d want to cover this entire compound with tons of holy symbols to prevent another attack.”

    Xaaron noticed the twinkle in Nightbeat’s eyes. Nightbeat wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of this mystery. But for now, dinner was an order. They arrived at the villa not long after and made their way to the dining room. The Brainmasters and Galaxy Shuttle were already there, setting up the table.

    “They’re going to serve the dumplings,” said Star Saber excitedly.

    “How do you know what they’re going to serve?” asked Blacker.

    Star Saber stopped and pulled out a calendar with the menu. The legislator cooks followed it to the letter, unless there was a special occasion – like when Tyrest was released from the clinic after the assassination attempt. (That day they had veggie burgers, Tyrest’s favorite.) Blacker stopped to read it, before handing it back to Star Saber.

    “Where’d you get that calendar?” asked Blacker.

    “I asked the chief justice for a copy,” said Star Saber. “I wanted to know what they were going to have, ahead of time, so I could order a different plate beforehand, if I didn’t like what was being served. To be fair, all the food is freshly grown and well-prepared that I still just go with the menu regardless.”

    “Can you ask him for another copy for me?” asked Braver. “Sometimes I don’t want to eat food with roasted tomatoes or bell peppers.”

    “Sure,” said Star Saber.

    They had finished setting up the table when they noticed Xaaron and Nightbeat. Xaaron also had his own calendar and was looking forward to the dumplings too. Just then, Tyrest and Pharma ground-bridged to the dining hall. Tyrest led Pharma to a seat next to him and Xaaron, as he sat next to Star Saber. Pharma looked around and noticed a large monochrome painting of Tyrest and his conjunx.

    Xaaron tapped Pharma’s hand and said to him, “They are serving dumplings.”

    “How do you know?” asked Pharma.

    Before Xaaron had a chance to answer, several legislators entered the dining hall serving platters for themselves and for Tyrest and his guests. The dumplings were accompanied by a thick soup, crackers, and salad. For drinks, they were served fresh fruit juice. Pharma grabbed a dumpling with his left hand and stuffed it in his mouth when Braver stood up to lead a quick prayer before dinner. Pharma’s eyes widened and hoped nobody noticed his blunder. As soon as Braver finished, Pharma swallowed the dumpling.

    “Pharma, how is Ratchet doing?” asked Xaaron, nonchalantly as he dipped his dumpling into the sauce.

    “He’s so-so,” replied Pharma. “His arthritis is getting worse and he’s beating himself up over it. He feels so useless because it hurts for him to do anything. I wonder if a transplant, or at least a joint-replacement, would cure him. But then, that’s autoimmune.”

    “I had arthritis too,” said Xaaron. “But it got cured after I got reformatted. Though the pain on my side is getting worse.”

    “What pain?” asked Tyrest, almost offended that Xaaron never told him about it.

    “The one right here,” said Xaaron pointing at his side.

    Without thinking twice, Pharma turned to Xaaron and scanned him. Pharma’s cheerful expression turned quite serious as he analyzed the results.

    “Sir,” whispered Pharma, “you need a t-cog transplant STAT. The next time you transform could be your last because your t-cog is so brittle that it’ll shatter and then you’d get severe sepsis…”

    “It can wait,” replied Xaaron cooly. He then turned to Tyrest and said nonchalantly, “Please get me one of those restraints that inhibit transforming, because I do know that I occasionally transform while sleeping. I also don’t want to miss breakfast because of the mandatory fasting. I’ve been looking forward to those fluffy buttery pancakes for a week.”

    Tyrest gasped and asked, “You care more about food than your own health?”

    “Considering the fact that the Autobots had always had scarce resources, up until recently, yes I do care more about food,” replied Xaaron. “Besides, I am old and sickly. The option of repairing me misuses valuable resources. I much rather enjoy my last few days filling up my belly with delicious food, instead.”

    Tyrest turned to Pharma and Nightbeat, both of whom had experienced similar hardships when it came to a lack of resources. Although it pained them to hear Xaaron speak about himself that way, it was reasonable given their wartime circumstances. Tyrest remained calm, though he was offended by their passiveness. But this wasn’t the first time Tyrest wanted to intervene regarding Xaaron’s poor health.

    On several occasions during the war, Xaaron was secretly space-bridged to Luna-1, to undergo a life-saving procedure. Often, Ratchet accompanied Xaaron and performed the surgery there. Xaaron had always felt guilty about resorting to doing things this way, but as chairman of the Autobot High Council, it was important that he survive for the sake of the Autobot Cause. Despite Ratchet’s pleas, Xaaron was never allowed to recover on Luna-1. Instead, Xaaron was space-bridged to a safe location, usually the Wreckers’ base, Debris, in Nyon. While Tyrest did agree with Ratchet in regards to Xaaron staying on Luna-1, he knew that if he allowed such a thing, the Decepticons might use it as a valid argument to back out of the Tyrest Accord, annulling the treaty. The last thing Tyrest wanted was to do something foolish based on his feelings and put thousands of civilian lives at risk. Tyrest made sure to tell Ratchet this the first time Xaaron had surgery on Luna-1, yet Ratchet hoped that Tyrest changed his mind and always pleaded. (Tyrest was a mech of his word and tried his best to keep his promises, unlike most of the other politicians that Ratchet had encountered.)

    “You forget that on Luna-1, I'm the one who decides what is considered a waste of resources,” replied Tyrest coldly. “And making sure you, my dear friend, gets adequate repairs isn’t a waste.”

    Xaaron remained silent. The last thing he wanted was to guilt-trip his friend Tyrest into providing him with a life-saving surgery. It was one of the reasons he had chosen to remain silent about his worsening pain. But the atmosphere was calm and Xaaron felt comfortable-enough to speak freely, and that was when he made his mistake.

    “Very well, I’ll have surgery in the afternoon,” said Xaaron. “At least, I can have my pancakes in the morning.”

    Tyrest pulled out his tablet and searched through it, locating the appropriate forms Xaaron needed to sign stating that he consented to the surgery. He handed him the tablet to sign.

    Wanting to lighten the mood, Star Saber said to Nightbeat, “The Legislators’ Commander was finally released from the clinic. I found it interesting that he referred to the compound as ‘New Adaptica’, considering the fact he wasn’t too happy with us being here.”

    “Wait…if this is ‘New Adaptica’ that means there’s an ‘Old Adaptica’,” replied Nightbeat. “I knew it.”

    “Yes, the ‘Old Adaptica’ was their colony before the demon attack,” said Star Saber, “but I don’t know the location. I’ve tried asking the other legislators but they seemed offended…” Star Saber paused when he saw an older legislator squinting in his direction. “…Did I tell you that you look really good in gold?”

    “Thanks,” said Nightbeat as soon as he got the cue. “It’s not everyday you get the chance to get coated in pure electrum and feel invulnerable to any damage. Oh no…it’s fading away…” Nightbeat looked at his arm which was reverting back to its natural bright blue color. “How do these legislators keep the gold though?”

    “They mix the electrum with wax and coat that on,” said Star Saber. “Sometimes they just jump in, but most of the time it’s with the wax mixture. It is a secret formula that they refuse to share but that’s reasonable because this invulnerability shouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

    The older legislator turned away and resumed his conversation with a fellow legislator. At that, Star Saber and Nightbeat let out a sigh of relief. Their dinner continued normally and Pharma continued to stuff his face with more dumplings. It had been way too long since he had eaten delicious food.

Chapter Text

    After dinner, everyone sorted their plates and deposited them into the proper receptacle. (The mostly cleaned plates went straight to the dishwasher, and the ones with more food smeared on them went to be washed by hand.) Feeling bad because his plate wasn’t clean enough, Tyrest went to help wash dishes. Pharma had no idea where he was and stood in the dining hall awkwardly. It didn’t help that legislators were staring at him with their closed eyes.

    Star Saber approached Pharma. Unfortunately, this didn’t make Pharma feel any better. Even though Tyrest sat in between them during dinner, Pharma saw Star Saber remove his helm and then proceed to chug the thick hot soup. After he was finished, he asked Tyrest if he was going to eat his soup since Tyrest didn’t touch it. Tyrest said he wasn’t because he was filling up on dumplings and crackers. Star Saber got Tyrest’s soup and chugged it too. What Pharma saw filled him with immense horror.

    “Nice hands,” said Star Saber.

    “Thank you,” said Pharma, nervously.

    “I wish the chief justice would install some of those experimental upgrades in me,” replied Star Saber. “However, the chief justice doesn’t believe in ‘unnecessary’ surgery. He thinks it’s vanity, but I simply want to become the best warrior Cybertron has ever known.”

    “That’s understandable,” said Pharma, who was beginning to relax. “We can’t really get a good gauge of our stats. The tech specs are awful. They hand out 8s, 9s, and 10s to practically everyone. Do you really expect me to believe that the chief justice and I are both 10s in ‘intelligence’? I only spoke to him for a few minutes and I feel like an utter dumbass compared to him. He knows a lot about things I know nothing about. How can we both be 10s? He’s clearly a 35.”

    Star Saber listened solemnly even though he was shocked by Pharma saying bad words. (Something he expected from the likes of Lockdown, but not a properly educated mech who also happens to be holy.) After getting over his shock, which was brief, Star Saber said, “A word of warning, please watch your language around the chief justice. He hates it when others use bad words around him. He thinks they are vulgar and loses all interest in interacting with such people.”

    The last thing Pharma wanted to do was offend Tyrest. Pharma gasped. “Oh f*ck!”

    Star Saber facepalmed. While he completely accepted that Pharma had a 10 in “intelligence”, he wondered if “common sense” was even a stat in the tech specs, because it seemed like Pharma barely had any.

    Unfortunately, Xaaron and Nightbeat were nearby and heard Pharma say bad words. Xaaron was slightly disappointed while Nightbeat was intrigued. Fortunately, Tyrest didn’t hear any of it because he was busy helping with the dishwashing and happily chatting with some of the younger legislators whom he could still understand. (Apparently, the legislators’ voices got “too soft” as they aged, at least for Tyrest who could only hear the sparklings and the adolescents.)

    As Xaaron approached Pharma, a pair of legislators intercepted his path and showed him the transformation-inhibiting restraint. The restraints also included handcuffs, but since Xaaron wasn’t a criminal, the legislators didn’t handcuff him. Xaaron took the handcuffs, which also had the transformation-inhibiting ability, and put one cuff on his left wrist like a bracelet. A legislator activated the ability and Xaaron immediately felt the difference. It was actually worse than being without it. 

    Pharma rushed over to Xaaron and asked, “Do you want them to take it off of you?”

    “No,” gasped Xaaron. “I have an idea.”

    Just then, Tyrest left the kitchen and immediately noticed that Xaaron was in terrible pain. Without thinking twice, Tyrest said to Pharma, “Please stay with Emirate Xaaron for the night.”

    “Where is Ten going to go?” asked Nightbeat.

    “Ten will sleep with me,” said Tyrest. He then turned to the young legislator and gestured to him to come over. Tyrest pulled out a phone and handed it to Pharma. “This phone has my number, should you or my friend need anything.” Tyrest pulled out a teleporter and opened a ground-bridge to Xaaron’s room.

    Pharma attempted to pick up Xaaron, only to realize that the “light” mini-tank was actually quite heavy. Pharma and Nightbeat then opted to walk Xaaron to the room.

    Pharma and Nightbeat then helped Xaaron to bed. Without thinking twice, Pharma grabbed an opened, but clipped, bag of chips. He took out three small broken chips and held them in his right hand. Since his new hands had finally finished installing, Pharma retracted a scalpel in his left hand, and lightly sliced his left thumb. He mumbled something as the blood dripped onto the chips, activating the transmutation circle engraved into his hand. Nightbeat grabbed Xaaron’s water bottled and handed it to him, as Pharma approached him with a pill.

    “This potent analgesic should numb the pain considerably, though there is a risk it’ll make you sleepy,” said Pharma, as he then continued his brief explanation about the drug.

    Wincing in pain, Xaaron grabbed the pill out of Pharma’s hand and took it, then drank out of his water bottle. “How long until this kicks in?”

    “Give about 5 minutes,” said Pharma.

    Xaaron chuckled and said, “It already kicked in…” He felt instant relief.

    “You…” said Pharma to Nightbeat, “Please bring me his toothpaste, tooth brush, a small cup, and a bowl or whatever kind of basin you can find. I don’t think he’d be able to brush his teeth in the bathroom. This medicine won’t let him get up for a while.”

    As Nightbeat gathered the items, Pharma transmuted a small scrap of paper he found on the table and turned it into a small dollop of antibiotic. After applying it to his cut thumb, he grabbed a random bandage he saw on the table and put it on. 

    Xaaron observed Pharma and asked, “Who in their right mind decided to send you to Delphi?”

    “I wanted to go,” replied Pharma. 

    “But why?” asked Xaaron. “Whatever you just did with those medicines is a valuable skill that we Autobots desperately needed during the war. Especially, since our supplies were always so low.” 

    There were countless reasons why the Autobots were underfunded, and it was mostly because they weren’t interested in cyberforming other planets for resources, like the Decepticons. (Decepticon propaganda insisted that Autobots had thieves in Autobot High Command, who pocketed funds, and that Decepticon High Command was too honorable to ever do such a thing.)

    Pharma, who was from Stanix and had heard Decepticon Propaganda since adolescence said to Xaaron, “Alchemy would’ve most certainly helped, even if the Neo Primalists were against it for some bizarre reason. But then, the Decepticons would’ve found a way to misconstrue the alchemy as more thievery.” Shaking his head, Pharma continued, “When I was a sparkling, I ran into these Unicron Cultists who pulled out my vocalizer with an enchanted hook and engraved a necromantic sigil on it. Because of this, I’ve spent most of my life, absolutely terrified of others finding out I’m a necromancer. Not really thinking things clearly, but also in a desperate need to get away from my family, I decided to study medicine because the university was far away.”

    Xaaron narrowed his eyes.

    Nervous, Pharma added, “Ironically, being a medic just had a tendency to make me practice the necromancy I was cursed with. Later, I reanimated someone who was certainly going to die. I felt really bad for his two young sparklings becoming orphaned. Especially since the local orphanages were terrible. Regrettably this ‘miracle’ nearly blew my cover, so I had no choice but to escape to Delphi when I heard they wanted to send people over there.”

    “I assume that Ratchet doesn’t know about most of this,” said Xaaron.

    Pharma went pale.

    “I’m just saying, because if he did know, he would’ve given you prudent advice and your life wouldn’t have escalated into this disastrous series of events you’re describing,” replied Xaaron.

    Nightbeat returned with the supplies and handed them to Xaaron so he could brush his teeth. Pharma quietly held the cup and the bowl for Xaaron to spit in.

    Meanwhile, Tyrest and Ten had finished dusting each other off for the night. Sensing that Tyrest seemed upset, Ten asked, “Ten?” (In other words, “What’s wrong?”)

    “I’m hurt that Xaaron doesn’t trust me enough to tell me that he’s in physical pain,” replied Tyrest.

    “Oh, that had nothing to do with trust,” said Ten in a way that Tyrest understood him clearly. “He had told me and Nightbeat, that if you found out, you’d be worried and that you already have enough problems to deal with, without counting this. He was hoping it was just a random sprain that would heal itself eventually. But it wasn't the case.”

    Tyrest was still unsatisfied with the answer. “I should’ve suspected something was wrong ever since he stopped sneaking into my room and jumping on my bed. I know he’s being playful but I don’t like those types of surprises and I was relieved when I finally had peace.”

    “What if you sneaked into his room and jumped on his bed?” asked Ten.

    “The combination of my excellent stealth and size, would prove fatal,” said Tyrest. “Besides, I don’t like mean games like that, and it’s time for our bedtime prayers.”

    Seeing Ten’s excitement, both of them walked over to the small shrine in the room and began to pray. Afterwards, they both got into their respective beds and quickly fell asleep.

    Unlike Tyrest and Ten, Xaaron still wasn’t asleep and neither were Nightbeat, and Pharma. (Pharma would’ve been sleepy too but so many things had happened to him in the past 24 hours that he felt unable to power-down.) Noticing the time, and the fact that Pharma was the one who was likely to perform the surgery, Xaaron asked, “Pharma, would it be too difficult for you to make a sleep potion?”

    Looking at his hand, Pharma replied, “Not if we’re able to find the actual ingredients. I don’t want to slice up these new fingers again, they’re very sensitive. The one I nicked hurts as if I struck a nerve. I didn’t think I’d cut that deep either.” He saw a small piece of paper and wrote down the ingredients. Assuming that Xaaron wanted them all to sleep, Pharma wrote the different quantities for 1, 2, and 3 people.

    Reading the ingredients, Xaaron said, “All of these are found in that ‘Root Garden’ in the Atrium. Nightbeat, take the teleporter and gather the ingredients. Pharma, you stay with me, and I’ll write a note saying we picked some herbs from the garden. I don’t think he minds as long as the plants are unharmed but it’s courteous to inform him.” Pausing, Xaaron added, “Don’t take too long.”

    After reading the list, Nightbeat got the teleporter that was lying on the small couch and headed out to the Root Garden. He was somewhat disappointed that Xaaron didn’t allow him to explore it properly at night.

Chapter Text

    Nightbeat had been curious about the Root Garden ever since he heard about it last week. While he had seen it many times since he first arrived at Luna-1, he never thought about exploring it until now. It was certainly different at night; ethereal and practically otherworldly. He noticed a raised plaque on the floor. As he approached it, a faint pink star-like rune appeared over it and got brighter as Nightbeat got closer. The plaque read, “ In Memoriam 99999682. ”

    He immediately recognized it as a grave and made a mental note of the number, which was most likely someone’s serial number. Nightbeat also backed away from it because the rune was clearly placed there to protect it. As he moved further away, the rune’s glow became fainter. Taking out a small pair of scissors, Nightbeat snipped the herbs required for two doses of the potion. After all, it was important for both Xaaron and Pharma to rest, since they had the surgery tomorrow. As for himself, Nightbeat only wanted to live up to his name and do some investigating after dark. When he finished, he pulled out the teleporter, but noticed something moving in the shadows. Torn between wanting to investigate the movement and promptly returning to Xaaron’s room, he chose the latter because the last thing he wanted was for his mentor to scold him.

    Meanwhile, in Xaaron’s room, Xaaron said to Pharma. “Don’t tell this to Nightbeat, because he'd enjoy figuring it out, but the Root Garden is actually a grave.”

    Pharma frowned.

    “Tyrest told me that his carrier is buried there,” said Xaaron. “Not sure if you can, but it would be nice for you to channel Adaptus and grant a blessing to the garden, as well as the Legislators’ Necropolis. There’s been a disturbing increase in undead activity these past few weeks. It was contained on the ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ but it now seems to be spreading. And now you, the Reincarnation of Adaptus, have arrived just at the right moment to help end it.”

    Pharma let out a dejected sigh. No matter where he went, the undead would be lurking about. (However, it appears virtually impossible for Cybertronians to stay dead. They’re a naturally immortal race, and even if they appear to be successfully killed, they can come back as unstoppable ghouls.) And Pharma was also exhausted from feeling overburdened – he had not recovered from having to illegally perform alchemy to support the leader of the DJD’s drug habit. To Pharma, it seemed that having holy energon was more of a curse than being forcibly branded with the necromantic sigil.

    Unfortunately, he didn't have a chance to express his concerns because Nightbeat returned and handed the ingredients to Pharma. Pharma got the herbs and began grinding them. Fortunately, Xaaron had an electric burner on top of a small table, and Pharma didn't need to go to the kitchen to boil the water from the water cooler in the room.  As Pharma was working, Nightbeat whispered to Xaaron, “You’re not going to believe what I saw at the Root Garden.”

    “What?” asked Xaaron, who was still slightly dizzy from the pain medicine Pharma had given him.

    “There’s a grave there,” said Nightbeat.

    Annoyed, Xaaron said, “Leave it alone! Tyrest’s carrier is buried there.”

    Nightbeat pouted, since that mystery was already solved. “The chief justice told you, didn’t he?”

    “Yes,” replied Xaaron. “He also told me that the Root Garden was made up of plants that are common in the Sea of Rust. But also, it’s the only place in Luna-1’s entirety where he can successfully grow chromatic cassava. He loves that root so much. But he still has to have it imported because the ones from the garden are too small.”

    After grinding the herbs, Pharma decided to boil them in a small pot on the burner. Confused, Nightbeat said to Pharma, “I thought you were going to do alchemy and transmute potions, not make tea like normal people do.”

    “I would need a lot of blood for that,” said Pharma. “Besides, I’d rather do this naturally, especially since you got me all the ingredients for it. Back at Delphi, I drew my own blood, filling vials of it, so I wouldn’t have to cut myself so much. But all that took a toll on me since the food rations were…terrible and I grew weaker by the day. The only reason I’ve recovered from this was because Adaptus reformatted my body. I did an experiment with a patient’s blood instead of using my own but it wasn’t the same. I suspect it’s because of my holy energon blood. So what I transmuted with it was always of a superior quality compared to the regular energon blood.”

    Nightbeat rinsed out two mugs in the bathroom sink and brought them to Pharma, who had finished boiling the tea. Pharma carefully poured the tea into the mugs. Since they didn’t have ice on hand and both mugs were almost filled to the brim, Nightbeat filled another basin with water and placed the mugs inside it for them to cool. 

    Xaaron was excited about trying the tea, its fragrance was making his stomach rumble. Nightbeat also wanted to try the tea and regretted gathering only two servings. He didn’t think the ingredients mixed together would smell or possibly taste pleasant.

    After waiting for a couple of minutes, Pharma took both mugs and handed one to Xaaron. “If you drink it too fast, you’d pass out.”

    “I see…” replied Xaaron as he watched Pharma quickly chug the tea.

    Pharma chose not to heed his own warning because he was tired. As soon as he took his last sip and placed his mug on the nightstand, Pharma collapsed on the bed with Xaaron. He was out cold.

    Xaaron set the alarm to a reasonable hour and tried to chug the rest of the tea. Feeling weak, he set his mug aside on the nightstand and before he knew it, he had passed out too. Since Xaaron had a little left, Nightbeat wondered whether or not he should try it. He picked up the mug and walked over to his own bed. He took a sip, and since he was a speedster, his body metabolized the tea so fast that he was also immediately knocked out. Xaaron’s empty mug rolled out of Nightbeat’s hand and onto the floor, stopping as soon as it hit the nearby dresser.

    Several hours had passed and the alarm went off, waking everyone up.

    “What the hell just happened?” asked Pharma, believing it was still yesterday night.

    “We drank that sleep potion tea you made,” said Xaaron, who felt refreshed.

    “Oh,” said Pharma. He hadn’t had a good restful sleep in so long that it felt strange to him. He got up and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He spotted Xaaron's mug on the floor next to the dresser and picked it up, setting it on the dresser. 

    Nightbeat, who also woke up refreshed, approached Xaaron and whispered, “Emirate, are you sure you want this mech to perform surgery on you?”

    “Tell me one other Autobot medic who is as equally competent as Ratchet, who’d be able to perform this crucial surgery today,” said Xaaron.

    “Damn,” replied Nightbeat. “The only other medic I know is my sister Minerva and she’s busy working with Muzzle back on Nebulos.”

    “I don’t doubt Pharma’s ability,” said Xaaron. “He must be an extremely talented surgeon. So talented that it’s probably why he seems so…I mean, you saw him make that tea and observed its effectiveness.”

    Pharma returned and helped Xaaron get up and walked with him to the bathroom. Assuming that Xaaron drank most of the tea, Pharma knew that Xaaron was still at a risk for falling. Xaaron brushed his teeth and afterwards, Pharma helped Xaaron sit down on the couch. 

    Meanwhile, Nightbeat went to the bathroom. And suddenly, without warning, his legs gave out and he lost his balance. Fortunately, he was able to grab onto the sink, and partially broke his own fall. Upon overhearing the commotion, Pharma rushed to his aid. 

    As the bedroom door opened, a legislator walked in with a cart that had three breakfast platters on it. Aware of Xaaron’s condition, the legislator unfolded a small table and placed it in front of him. He then served the platter, handed Xaaron the silverware, and served him some milk. Xaaron got the bottle of syrup and poured it on his pancakes. After a quick prayer, he began to eat. 

    Not long afterwards, Pharma and Nightbeat joined him since Xaaron ate slowly. Grabbing a fork, Pharma was incredulous of Xaaron's previous claim about the pancakes. However, after taking a single bite, Pharma got up and walked around the room as Nightbeat and Xaaron desperately tried to ignore Pharma's bizarre behavior. Pharma sat down and said, “This is so good.”

    “I told you,” replied Xaaron. “The cooks in the kitchen are something else. They were saying they were going to prepare something they call ‘Quintessence’, which they keep describing as an ætherial stew. They just need to harvest the final ingredient for it.”

    “Is the final ingredient, Quintesson?” asked Pharma.

    Xaaron appeared disgusted and said, “I don’t know but I can see how you came to that conclusion.”

    “I’ve been told that Quintesson tastes light and soft,” said Pharma, remembering back at Delphi when Tarn was telling him about his latest adventure. 

    The DJD actually hunted more Quintessons than they did Decepticon traitors on The List. (It was one reason why Decepticons felt that they could've won the war sooner, if the DJD were more focused on their mission.) One of the DJD members, Helex the smelting tank, loved to eat the Quintessons’ brains. Tarn himself preferred to eat their tentacles deep-fried and dipped in ketchup.

    “Quintesson does taste good,” said Nightbeat. “From my own research on the subject, it was originally proposed as psychological warfare against them. The first time Cybertronians tried it was just for the irony but then it turns out they loved the taste that it’s now completely sincere and unironic.”

    “Those creatures are disgusting,” insisted Xaaron, who immediately felt his appetite disappear. Fortunately, he had finished eating his rations.

    Nightbeat and Pharma both continued to insist that it tasted good, much to Xaaron's dismay.

Chapter Text

    In the dining hall, Galaxy Shuttle was eating breakfast with the rest of his teammates, the Brainmasters. Like his companions, he also slept well that night. (It was mostly because he accepted that his purpose in life was for transport. However, the Brainmasters often didn’t ask him for rides and he was just another warrior within their ranks.) Casually, he asked out loud, “What exactly is this ‘Quintessence’ I keep hearing the legislators talking about?”

    “From what I’ve seen on the calendar, it’s a pretty big holiday but I couldn’t find any explanation for it,” said Star Saber. “Fortunately, I asked the chief justice yesterday, and he told me it was a stew that the legislators liked to cook during this time, and that he found it disgusting.”

    As Star Saber continued with his explanation, one of the auxiliary teachers entered the dining hall. She was a red and gray minibot, so the Brainmasters didn’t notice her. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Hi, excuse me, I was just about to ask what this Quintessence Day was all about. I saw it on the calendar and noticed it’s a pretty big deal since my students have 3 days off for it.”

    “Lug, don’t they celebrate that in the Sea of Rust too?” asked Laster.

    “Yes, but nobody over there really knows what it’s about,” replied Lug. “Only that ‘the native inhabitants of Luna-1, observe this holiday’. I don’t think they care, to be honest. Otherwise, there would be more information online about it.”

    “To put it simply…” said Star Saber, “…they eat Quintesson stew. They call it ‘Quintessence’ because the meat is said to be light in both how your intake tank can tolerate it and its taste. They prepare a lot of it, like enough for the whole community, and eat it together. The rest of the day is resting after eating that big meal.”

    “Does it taste good?” asked Lug.

    “I don’t know,” said Star Saber. “Eating Quintesson meat is one of those things that’s subject to debate. Some insist that it’s unclean despite its supposedly light and ‘pure’ taste. Others say it’s okay to eat as long as the meat is thoroughly cooked. To play it safe, I have never tried it.” The other Brainmasters and Galaxy Shuttle nodded in agreement.

    “Do you think they’d let me try some?” asked Lug.

    “I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” replied Star Saber. “You’re an educator – a member of the community. It seems like that is enough for you to qualify.”

    “Alright, that’s what I needed to know, thank you,” replied Lug as she exited the room. She hurried to tell her conjunx, a fellow auxiliary teacher, who was standing outside waiting for her. She was an average sized green plane. Although she was much taller than Lug, she was also quite timid, despite being the more talkative one. (She was unable to ask the Brainmasters herself because she saw them train once and their vicious duels scared her.)

    Narrowing his eyes, Laster asked, “It’s kind of weird that nobody has done research on this holiday, don’t you think?”

    “Maybe people don’t want to think about Quintessons,” said Blacker, who was picking at his scab from a cut he received earlier during training.

    “Cut that out!” snapped Braver who smacked Blacker’s hand away.

    “Since we’re not going to participate in the feast, I have a better suggestion in passing the time,” replied Star Saber, who got up from his seat and separated himself from his aerial trailer – the V-Star. He searched through the V-Star and found a binder, which he laid out on the table. Inside the binder were photocopies from a codex that wasn’t permitted to leave the chief justice’s personal library. The copies showed a city whose layout was in the shape of Adaptus’ symbol.

    “How did they let you make copies?” asked Braver. “The last time we tried to ask about Adaptica, they got so upset that Tyrest himself teleported to our location to intervene.”

    “I told them I wanted to read a manuscript about Adaptus, which I did, and a librarian gave it to me,” said Star Saber. “It’s obviously Primus’ will for us to have this information. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent Lug’s conjunx, Anode, to the library so she could ask about allowing her preschool students to come visit the library. Then this request held up several of the senior librarians, who were unsure about such young sparklings visiting, so the only one left to attend me was a young, novice librarian who wouldn’t have known better. Then, I asked for the ‘correct’ manuscript by title, just so the others wouldn’t get suspicious.”

    “Everyone would be so busy celebrating, that we’d have time to meditate over these copies in peace,” replied Laster, “perfect.”

    “Are we going to tell Nightbeat?” asked Galaxy Shuttle.

    “Yes, but after we finish meditating over these texts,” replied Star Saber. “He’d want to start our investigation as soon as possible, but this requires some patience first.”

    “I want to know why the little sparklings aren’t allowed in the library,” said Blacker. “I figured they would be allowed, since they’re so well-behaved and there is such a heavy emphasis on them learning.”

    “This library is for scholarly texts,” said Braver. “Although there is some erotica on the top floor…”

    “How do you know?” asked Laster.

    “Because I went to the top floor, since I like to see what’s available in the library,” replied Braver. "That's where they archive all the older, outdated books. You can still check them out but they strongly advise that the information may be outdated. They practically treat these books like 'fiction'. Anyway, they've been hiding it there."

    On that particular day, Braver went upstairs and went to a secluded corner of the library. He noticed that the books in this corner used a different coding than the other ones. Curious, he picked up a random book to read. As he read, he sensed that a librarian was standing not too far away from him, nervously. After reading a particular passage, he knew why. Braver quickly closed the book and put on his headphones, so he could speak to the librarian. 

    It was then that the librarian confessed that this was a secret collection and that they hoped their priests would never find it, or else they’d complain to their queen, Tyrest. (Tyrest, who appeared to be very frag-repulsed, would likely order the books destroyed and the library staff replaced. Especially since this was his private library and these books weren't his.) The librarian insisted that the reason they stored these books here was because it was the safest library to keep them in. The other library was under stricter regulations because everything there needed to be 'polite' and 'appropriate for an impressionable sparkling to read'. 

    Braver decided to keep the librarian’s secret and said nothing about what he had found, until now. Despite being very religious himself (to the point of blind zealotry), he was against censorship and banning books, but he knew that hiding books was a sensible compromise to the situation. However, he was disappointed with their erotica collection because it was tastelessly bland, like fanfiction that reduces complex characters into simple generic tropes.

    After his companions finished looking at the copies of the codex, Star Saber took them back, and stored them in the V-Star. He then attempted to merge with his trailer but couldn’t. As Star Saber curled up to fit in the trailer’s armor, he was a bit too wide and bounced off. He tried one more time and was unable to connect.

    Rolling his eyes, Laster said to him, “I told you that if you eat too much, you wouldn’t be able to fit in the V-Star.”

    Remembering that he ate three servings of pancakes with the extra syrup, Star Saber muttered, “Shut up.” He snapped his fingers and the V-Star resumed its aerial trailer form. Annoyed, Star Saber hopped on top, causing it to wobble from his excess weight. To save face, Galaxy Shuttle pulled out a transporter and opened a portal directly to the chapel, where they normally continued with their morning prayers.

    Upon arrival, they were met with two of the legislators’ clergy-mechs – fiercely devoted to Adaptus and because of this, much of their religious items bore Adaptus’ green symbol. It had been about a week since they began using the chapel. (Before, they held their services underneath a tent, which they quickly assembled and disassembled. Apparently, the religious décor clashed too much with their secular golden hexagonal décor, and that was why they had long decided it like this. For some reason, no one thought about asking Tyrest for permission to host the chapel in his villa. Even though he happily attended services all these years with them.) The clergy-mechs were trying to redecorate the chapel, which already matched nicely with their religious items.

    The clergy-mechs noticed Star Saber riding the V-Star and seemed to mumble to themselves about him. No one, but Star Saber's friends, knew that he was an average-sized mech wearing power-armor. (Everyone assumed he was naturally that large, especially since his power levels were very high.) Curious, Blacker turned on his translating headphones and overheard the clergy-mechs.

    “Do you think the queen is aware of his size?” asked one of them.

    “No,” replied the other, “if he did, he wouldn’t be interested in him. I had a feeling this was all too good to be true. He’s going to find out eventually and be so heartbroken.”

    Blacker shot a quick glance at Star Saber, who was doing some stretching before the prayers began. Star Saber was oblivious to the conversation and Blacker hoped it stayed that way, because Star Saber would be compelled to defend his honor. (As in, he’d challenge both large legislators to a fight for mocking his natural appearance, even if he was half their size. After all, Star Saber had the Brain of Courage and wasn’t afraid of anyone.)

    As Star Saber was stretching, Braver noticed a binder sticking out strangely from the V-Star. He pulled it out and noticed that the panels on the V-Star were flat again. He turned around and said to Star Saber, “You should try to merge with the V-Star again. I think one of your binders may’ve shifted.”

    He handed Star Saber the binder. Star Saber opened it up and it was the first binder he had compiled his photocopies in, because the first page was a copy that said “The Codex of Sorrow” in an archaic form of Primal Vernacular. Star Saber put the binder in his subspace, which was full of snacks, and merged with his trailer. This time, it all fit and he reverted back to his stately size. Once everyone was settled they began their prayers.

Chapter Text

    A little while later, Anode had returned to the school. There, she was watching over the young preschool legislators who were quietly taking a required standardized test. (This part of the curriculum baffled Anode and Lug. They felt the sparklings were way too young to be taking such tests.) Anode waited for Lug to return, since she was planning for the class to watch a movie. After all, they only had a half-day, because the younger students took 4 days off for Quintessence Day. 

    It was hard to believe that [such a short time] had passed since non-legislators were allowed into the main "legislative" building complex in Tyrest's Luna-1 compound. Since the Legislators and their feral "Forsworn" brethren made peace, they decided to move in together, as they once did before their schism. The transition was surprisingly smooth. The only exception involved the sparklings. 

    Under the chief justice's "reign," he had asked the Legislators to implement the same school curriculum used in the Sea of Rust city-states; Tyrest and Kalis. He wanted everyone living under his domain to have an equal opportunity for education, and the Legislators agreed with his reasoning. But the Legislator students eventually surpassed the Rustic students, since their breed seemed much smarter than the average Cybertronian citizen. But the Forsworn had done no such thing regarding education. In fact, many of them believed literacy was bad because they associated it with "wicked practices." For this reason, the Forsworn sparklings were way behind the Legislator sparklings. In order to accommodate them all, they needed to split the school and hire some outside teachers for the younger grades. Since the Forsworn were wary of "foreigners", the additional teachers would teach the Legislator sparklings. This is where Anode and Lug came in.

    Anode and Lug were once a pair of former Tyrest Accord deputies, who served under the loyal Duly Appointed Autobot Enforcer; Minimus Ambus. (Exactly the job which Ten wished to have.) Unlike his Decepticon counterpart, Minimus didn't like to work alone. However, this precaution wasn't enough. Minimus and his deputies were ambushed by Tyrest Accord violators who wanted revenge. The attack was so brutal that all three of them nearly died. Anode was able to maintain consciousness while her two smaller companions did not. Once their attackers left, she pushed all of their damaged body parts together and activated their recall switch, teleporting them all back to Luna-1. Anode didn't remember what happened afterwards, but she was aware that this was one of the risks of enforcing the Tyrest Accord. (But she never imagined it would happen to her and her colleagues.)

    After this incident, Anode and Lug retired to the Sea of Rust. Minimus, on the other hands, continued to work as the Duly Appointed Enforcer, from his own volition, with new deputies. He still kept in touch with the couple. They worked various jobs, but missed the excellent pay that Tyrest gave them as deputies. Guided by the stars, Tyrest asked Emirate Xaaron to post a job listing, and insisted that he interview Anode and Lug on his behalf. As if by Solomus' divine grace, their job interview went well. Tyrest hired them, but required that they work on obtaining their teaching certification. (He pulled some strings to enable them to work on attaining certification while they taught.)

    Since this was going to be a short day, Anode and Lug had planned to continue studying for their certification at home, after school. Their exam was scheduled for later that week. But first, they had to help grade the older students' final exams. They did so while the younger students were still taking their exam.

    Like the young students she was currently supervising, Anode had been working for a while and got up from her desk to stretch her legs. (The students were also allowed to get up and stretch, as long as they raised their hands for permission. These standardized tests were very long, for all grade levels.)

    While standing, Anode sighed deeply. She wished her former friends could see how far she'd come since her days at the academy. She wondered what they'd think when they found out about all the various things she'd done these past few years. After thinking about it briefly, she didn't want to know. (She was very convinced that they'd still focus on her shortcomings. After all, she wasn't working as a Tyrest Accord Deputy anymore.) However, Anode also hoped that someday she'd learn to surpass her own pessimism. After all, any one of these young sparklings looked up to her as an inspiration, often without her even realizing it, until they mentioned it. Keeping this thought in mind, made her smile.

    Anode sat back down at her desk and continued grading  her papers. There were so many, it felt endless. Especially, when her own students got up to hand over their finished exams. At first she had been grateful for the extra work – after all, it meant she might be able to get paid a little more. But now, she was having a hard time concentrating because she grew exhausted. Unfortunately, this meant that her negative thoughts were coming back to haunt her. Anode shook her head and tried to think of positive thoughts. (Maybe if she concentrated enough, she'd find some way to replace the negative thoughts with positive ones.) It was always easier to just ignore all this. Though it was becoming exceedingly difficult because she was tired.

    After several minutes, Anode looked up from her paperwork with a sigh of relief; there were only three left and they'd probably take her a couple of more minutes to finish up. And just as she calculated, she finished them. As soon as she set the tests aside, she heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor, followed by the familiar creak of the door opening. This made her turn around. But she didn't have to, because she knew it was her conjunx, Lug, who returned with a smile on her face.

    And yet, Anode's spark sank into her fuel tank as the footsteps drew nearer, then stopped only a few meters away from her desk. They sounded heavy, like someone had something on their mind.

    "Anode," Lug said softly, "are you busy?"

    "Not anymore, what's on your mind?" Replied Anode. 

    Lug handed Anode a note, since these preschoolers had excellent hearing. The note said they were given permission to show the sparklings some Earth movies that Minimus had shared with her. After reading it, Anode whispered, "There's one student left and they're almost done."

    Lug nodded and took a seat, as she waited for the last remaining student to turn in their exam. Anode let out a sigh of relief, which caught Lug's attention. Anode sensed that Lug was watching her and smiled sincerely. Anode couldn't explain why her negative thoughts practically vanished when Lug was nearby. This was one reason Anode didn't want to be separated from her. (Besides the fact that Anode was a flier, and naturally had a strong tendency to become very attached to her spouse.)

    Suddenly, the last student got up and turned in their test. Anode received it and began to grade it. As she worked, Lug decided to make an announcement. After standing on top of the desk, Lug cleared her throat and said, "I'm sure everyone is wondering what we have planned today, now that everyone has finished the exam."

    Anode stopped grading for a moment as the entire class turned to look at Lug with interest. Anode was curious about how Lug was going to tell the class that they were going to watch a "foreign film." Lug had a way with words. She knew exactly how to get people's attention without saying anything too outlandish or controversial. This would be no different.

    Clasping her hands together, Lug said, "Today, you are all in for a special treat! We're going to watch a movie made by the creatures that inhabit planet Earth…"

    Before she had a chance to finish, the young Legislators excitedly repeated their own names. Taking it as a cue to begin, Lug transformed into a projector and began showing her students the film.

    Anode looked through her desk and pulled out one of the datapads where they kept their notes for the licensure classes. On the recommendation of her therapist, Rung, Anode was practicing note-taking. He had suggested that she write things down, so she'd have an easier time remembering them. 

    But in addition, the school was quite strict about watching films in class. Everything shown to students on school grounds had to be of educational value, including the arts. It was practically a requirement to quiz them on what they watched. And since Anode couldn't remember whether she watched this movie or not, she needed to treat it like it was her first time watching it, regardless.

    For Anode, it seemed that her memory worsened after surviving the enemy ambush, and her anxiety wasn't helping. But lately, she’d been remembering things better. She almost felt like she didn’t even need to write notes all the time, but continued writing anyway because Lug loved it.

    Although she specialized in geology, Lug was a Recordabot, and had an innate desire to record and archive everything around her. For this reason, she always felt her spark flutter with excitement whenever she saw Anode taking notes. Unlike Anode, Lug has no memory of the ambush, since she got knocked out and the assailants stole her external memory drive in hopes of acquiring confidential information about the Tyrest Accord. (Fortunately, Lug never paid much attention to these meetings because they bored her, so the crooks were left with her video clip meme collection.) She did, however, suffer some temporary depression because her external memory drive was an important organ. As compensation, Tyrest allowed her access to Tyrest University’s archives to copy whatever historical footage she wanted for her own personal use. (This helped Lug tremendously but those high-quality important videos couldn’t compare to the funny memes she lost which never failed to make her laugh.)

    Because it was an Earth movie, it was very brief, but the sparklings loved it. Afterwards, Anode and Lug started discussing the movie, and made them take the quiz that Anode wrote. (This quiz was meant to be an extra easy assignment that awarded extra points on the exam that the students had finished taking.)

    They finished just in time before school was officially over for the holidays. When the students left, Anode and Lug reviewed the tests one more time before handing them over to a school administrator. Their work was done and they headed back to their room, to plan their vacation around their certification exam.

Chapter Text

    The afternoon came and it was finally time for surgery. Nearly everyone who knew about the surgery was nervous for Emirate Xaaron. In the past, he had always suffered from complications due to his frail health. This was the main reason that Ratchet was his surgeon, because he was the only medic skilled-enough to operate on the emirate.

    Meanwhile, Pharma was still somewhat irked that he had to perform Emirate Xaaron's surgery in the afternoon rather than in the morning, but Xaaron had insisted on eating breakfast and refused to fast. Fortunately, it was still early-enough that Pharma headed to the medibay to concoct his own anesthetic for Xaaron. Despite this minor annoyance, Pharma remained nonchalant about it all. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was so nervous that his mind deleted thinking about the surgery’s consequences, or that he had a lot of practice from installing t-cogs into Tarn, the DJD’s leader who happened to be a tank. 

    Regardless, Pharma was busy trying to figure out how to create the perfect anesthetic for Xaaron. Last night, he had noticed that Xaaron wasn’t knocked out easily with medicine – he didn’t feel sleepy after taking pain medication and he didn’t immediately succumb to the sleep potion tea. From that alone, Xaaron required something else. He also had a lengthy medical history and many known drug allergies, including the traditional alternatives. All the more reason that Pharma had to make something specific for Xaaron. But Pharma didn’t mind having to do this, because it was his favorite part of practicing medicine.

    If Pharma had a talent, it was in pharmacology. He was somehow able to create medicine that was specifically tailored to his patients’ needs. Unfortunately, most of the hospitals he worked at wanted him to be a surgeon instead of working in the pharmacy, because Pharma’s precision was “better used” there. Sometimes, it took Pharma a while to create his medicines, but not in Xaaron’s case. All he needed to do was tweak a preexisting recipe. 

    Pharma kept his recipes in an alchemical grimoire, and always referred to it, even if he memorized the recipes. This book was a random gift from an old coworker named Brainstorm, whom he met again onboard the Lost Light. Pharma quickly flipped to the recipe in question and wrote down the ingredients on a separate notepad. He got up and went to gather the ingredients. But first, he needed the crucial reagent – his own blood. Since Pharma was in the medibay, he had access to a vial and a needle to perform an arterial stick. He went to the supply room and took what he needed. 

    As Pharma got settled again, Nightbeat walked into the medibay and asked to see Pharma. The legislators led him to the remote corner of the medibay where Pharma was making his own potions. Nightbeat had decided to meet up with Pharma. He too was nervous about his mentor’s surgery and thought observing Pharma create his drugs would help distract him. (He also needed a break from his research.)

    Nightbeat saw Pharma disinfecting the back of his right knee, before sticking the needle there and drawing blood. Nightbeat winced, but was intrigued by what he had observed. Clearly, Pharma had lots of practice in drawing his own blood. After Pharma got just enough as he needed, he removed the needle and bandaged his knee. Now, he was ready to begin. 

    Pharma finally noticed Nightbeat and said, “I’m going to make a powder that needs to be reconstituted, mixed with a solvent, right before I administer it. The problem with this powder is that some of these ingredients are plants that can only be found on certain Decepticon-controlled planets. Back at Delphi, I had acquired some seeds to grow my own specimens but they got destroyed.”

    “I’m somewhat familiar with exclusive medications, Minnie has complained about it many times,” replied Nightbeat. 

    According to his sister, Minerva, the Decepticons’ own rules prohibited them from selling these herbs to the Autobots. However, the Decepticons had many shady importers who found loopholes in order to sell to Autobots. Minerva stopped short of telling Nightbeat which Decepticon importer she patronized, but he deduced that it was Deathsaurus. Deathsaurus was rightfully popular and highly-rated, because he and his subordinates were the least sleazy. He had many Autobot and neutral clients, which also put him on the DJD’s List many times. But Deathsaurus was a good friend of Decepticon High Command members, Starscream and Shockwave, that his name and the names of his subordinates were immediately removed from the DJD’s List. It was said that because of this, Deathsaurus and Tarn were enemies.

    “Who told them not to sell or buy medicinal herbs?” asked Pharma, as he withdrew blood from the vial with a syringe. “Optimus Prime never forbade it for us. So it’s Megatron’s doing. But then that mech doesn’t care about screwing over his own people…” Trying to change the subject, since transmutation required his concentration, Pharma added, “Watch this…”

    Pharma grabbed several Bismuth Berries with his right hand and supinated it to reveal the transmutation circle engraved into his palm. With the syringe, he added a drop of his own blood on his palm engraving and the berries started glowing. They then combined and turned into a pile of yellow powder. He carefully dusted off his hand into a bowl.

    After he finished, he repeated this process with leaves and summoned a purple powder, which he also added to the bowl. Pharma then created a green powder and red powder to add to the bowl. He then mixed these powders normally with other medicinal powders he found in the medibay. 

    It was then that Nightbeat realized what Pharma had done. Nightbeat was in awe about everything he saw because he rarely saw mechs live up to their name.

    Some legislator medics paused to observe Pharma's work. They agreed that Pharma was better suited to work in the Pharmacy because they required additional mechs to assist in the production of medications to fill prescriptions. 

    During the war, Autobots and Decepticons seized and took over the various pharmaceutical companies. The problem this caused was that certain medication recipes became exclusive to each faction. Obviously, the Tyrest Accord attempted to force the two factions to share generic versions of their medications, but this didn't quite work out. For this reason, Tyrest resorted to hiring his own team of pharmacists to make other medications from scratch that could be used for any Cybertronian civilian, regardless of faction. (Ironically, Tyrest's recipes seemed to have milder side effects than the Autobot and Decepticon recipes.) One of these Tyrest Accord pharmaceutical laboratories was the Pharmacy on Luna-1, located next to the medibay. 

    However, surgeons were always needed too. In the case of Cybertronians, a surgeon functions as a mechanic, and surgical interventions are more routine procedures than what organics are accustomed to. As a pharmacist, Pharma already had impeccable precision. This also helped him in his surgeries because he replaced or removed exactly what was needed and left minimal scarring.

    Since Pharma no longer needed to concentrate because he wasn't going to be transmuting anything, Nightbeat said to him, “I heard that the week after the Quintessence Day, the legislator sparklings are going to space-bridge to Kalis and visit the Kalisian Museum of Rustic Antiquities and Art. I want to go too, but I’m not sure if they’d let me join. I’m not related to any of those kids or a school staff member.”

   “Can’t you go on your own?” asked Pharma as he stopped to inspect the powder he was mixing. From what Xaaron had told them, they were allowed space-bridge access as long as it was necessary. Nightbeat was fixated on finding Adaptica, and that seemed like a permissible reason.

    “I won’t get to go to the park afterwards and have the picnic with them,” pouted Nightbeat.

    Pharma blinked rapidly, caught by surprise by Nightbeat’s notion of fun. After composing himself, he replied, “Oh yeah, I heard field trips were fun.”

    “You’ve never been to one have you?” asked Nightbeat.

    “The closest was going to the anatomy theater during med school,” chuckled Pharma. “I always sneaked in snacks.”

    Nightbeat stared at Pharma.

    Rolling his eyes, Pharma scoffed, “Don’t tell me you never sneaked some snacks into a theater. What are you? Lawfully good?”

    “They dissect cadavers there!” cried Nightbeat.

    Pharma shrugged while Nightbeat stood there in disbelief. Pharma finished making his powder and grabbed a funnel. He placed the funnel on a vial and carefully dumped his powder into it, which he quickly sealed. Since Nightbeat was still there, Pharma said, “All I have to do is mix this with sterile water, shake it well, and then administer it into the emirate.”

    He stored the vial in his subspace and headed to a conference room. Night beat followed him. As soon as Pharma arrived at the conference room and entered, another legislator stopped Nightbeat, because only medical personnel were allowed inside. The legislators in the room had translating headphones and handed them to Pharma so he could overhear their briefing over the upcoming surgery.

Chapter Text

    While Pharma was attending his pre-surgery conference with the Legislators, Nightbeat was taken to Xaaron’s room. Xaaron had arrived a few minutes before and was quietly praying. As much as he hated to admit, he was nervous about the surgery too. It just didn’t feel right without Ratchet, the only medic whom he trusted completely.

    Uncomfortable by the silence, Nightbeat said, “I always wanted to watch a t-cog surgery.  I always thought the concept of Rossum’s Trinity was interesting – if either the t-cog, the brain module, or the spark is destroyed, a mech will die. And yet, if they’re removed without destroying any of them, the mech will still live.”

    “Wait, didn’t Rossum die because Overlord crushed his head?” asked Xaaron.

    “Nope,” replied Nightbeat. “You see, Rossum was a mnemosurgeon, and mnemosurgeons are smart-enough to reconfigure their insides so that their brain modules are no longer in their heads. That way another mnemosurgeon won’t probe their mind easily to steal their ideas or tamper with their memories.”

    Xaaron narrowed his eyes. He pulled out his phone and texted Tyrest, asking if it was possible for a mech to have his brain module located somewhere besides the head. Unsure whether or not his friend was serious, Tyrest replied, “No, but sometimes it seems that way based on their poor decisions.”

    Crossing his arms, and slightly annoyed that Xaaron didn't believe him, Nightbeat said to him, “You could always ask Prowl.”

    Shaking his head Xaaron said, “He has too much to deal with right now. Apparently, one of his exes is spreading malicious rumors against him.”

    “Chromedome?” asked Nightbeat. 

    Narrowing his eyes, Xaaron, “Prowl didn't mention his ex by name, but it's probably him.  Prowl just needs to say the word and I can have the rest of my legal team to take care of this slanderous behavior. I don't understand why Prowl continues to allow this to continue.”

    “He might still like Chromedome,” shrugged Nightbeat. 

    Xaaron closed his eyes in annoyance. Prowl was one of the most intelligent mechs Xaaron had ever met, but it seemed this gift was balanced out with his questionable relationships. (Though Jazz was finally a decent choice, for once.)

    A legislator entered the room, interrupting their conversation as he scooped up Xaaron to take him to the operating room. 

    Just then, Nightbeat received a text message from Tyrest, asking him to join him on the second story of the clinic. Nightbeat hurried to the room that Tyrest mentioned. Since he was a speedster, he arrived there in 5 minutes. The first thing he noticed was that the room in question was like a luxury box with an excellent view of the surgery room below. Tyrest greeted Nightbeat and escorted him inside.

    “Remember how we used to watch the Aequitas Trials?” asked Tyrest.

    “Yeah,” replied Nightbeat.

    “Well, this time, it’s actually pleasant and educational,” said Tyrest, who sat down next to Ten. Tyrest searched through his subspace and pulled out two veggie wraps, one for himself and the other for Ten. He pulled out a third, smaller wrap and offered it to Nightbeat.

    “Why did you bring food?!” asked Nightbeat.

   Tyrest shook his head. “It seems you don’t remember the Aequitas Trials at all because we – you, me, Xaaron, and Prowl – we enjoyed a series of mini-banquets while the deliberations were underway. Prowl always brought the most food, yet this was fair because he ate the most.” Tyrest chuckled and neatly unwrapped the plastic from Ten’s wrap.

    Ten took a bite of his wrap.

    Nightbeat looked at his small (normal-sized) wrap and unwrapped the plastic. He still didn’t think it was appropriate to eat during these types of viewings, but perhaps he was more interested in observing than stuffing his face and socializing. But thinking about it, Tyrest was probably right about the mini-banquets.

    He remembered trying to eat a big sandwich when they were watching the trial of a certain Autobot scientist named Flame. Xaaron mentioned that he wasn’t surprised to see Flame as a defendant but didn’t elaborate further. (From his own personal investigations, Nightbeat concluded that Xaaron had known Flame from childhood. But he was unsure of the nature of their relationship, and concluded that it was likely “complicated.”) After the testimony and the evidence, it was clear that Flame was guilty of his crimes – desecrating corpses and mismanaging funds. However, Aequitas, the supercomputer analyzing the crimes, determined that Flame was innocent, much to the dismay of everyone but Tyrest. (But then, Tyrest believed that Rustic mechs were incapable of wrongdoing and Flame was Kalisian.) Nightbeat remembered being so sickened by the verdict that he no longer felt any appetite during the duration of the Aequitas Trials. 

    Nightbeat also began to think that supercomputers do make mistakes and immediately began looking into how Aequitas came to such a blatantly wrong conclusion. Nightbeat eventually discovered that Flame was so shameless that he was incapable of feeling any guilt. Since Aequitas detected no guilt within Flame, it concluded that he was innocent, when he clearly wasn’t. (Another defendant, this time a Decepticon scientist named Scorponok, was also found innocent and subsequently released, but his crimes were worse . Unfortunately, retrial is illegal, so Flame and Scorponok literally got away with murder, while actual innocent mechs capable of showing remorse were imprisoned at Garrus-9.)

    Suddenly, Tyrest spoke, interrupting Nightbeat’s train of thought,“I feel bad for Lug. She wanted to watch the surgery but Anode likes to follow her around like cleavers. Anode can’t stand watching these types of surgeries. She tried to once, but she fainted. I’m sure it would be much worse, if it’s someone she has spoken to and knows, like Xaaron.” Tyrest unwrapped his wrap and started to eat.

    At this point, Nightbeat sighed and quickly ate his wrap. He was starting to feel a little bit hungry, and now that he was satiated, he could concentrate on watching the surgery. The wrap was pleasant and didn't upset his stomach. (But it just wasn’t unforgettable like that big sandwich he had during Flame’s trial.)

    Ten looked through his subspace and pulled out a notebook and pen. Tyrest had instructed him to take notes because he was going to quiz him about the surgery later. (And if Ten passed, Tyrest would be more lenient towards Ten’s goal of becoming a Duly Appointed Duty of the Tyrest Accord.)

    Tyrest continued to speak, “I’ve always been a strong believer in fate, you know? Xaaron was bound to have this problem eventually. And knowing him, he would never allow a Decepticon perform the operation. Ideally, he’d want Ratchet to do it but that’s not possible. Instead, it’s Ratchet’s student. This surgery at this exact moment was meant to be.” Tyrest had a point – it seemed like just about everything was leading to this moment. There was tension in the air and everyone present felt its ominous presence. 

    Pharma, of course, had no idea he was being observed by Tyrest, Nightbeat, Ten, and a couple of other curious legislators. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have slouched or reverted to his cruder Stanixian accent when addressing the legislator medics and Xaaron, as he removed Xaaron’s restraint. (Since his first language was Primal Vernacular, Pharma sounded so different that even Xaaron was surprised.)

    “Emirate, the beauty of surgeries is that they take so long to prepare, but they are finished so quickly that you won't even notice,” said Pharma, as he mixed the anesthetic powder he had created earlier, with some water.

    “Wouldn’t I be under the effects of anesthesia?” asked Xaaron.

    “I hope so,” replied Pharma.

    “What?” asked Xaaron, as Pharma administered his homemade anesthetic into Xaaron’s left antecubital IV. 

    Luckily, the anesthetic had an immediate effect on Xaaron. (Much to Pharma’s relief, because he was afraid that the custom-made medication still wouldn’t work since Xaaron was very resistant to sedatives.) Xaaron hadn’t realized he was drugged, and felt as if he fell asleep from exhaustion. Seeing that Xaaron was stable, Pharma began to work. Being a light tank, Pharma was easily able to open up Xaaron.

    Unfortunately, Xaaron’s t-cog looked very brittle, more so that it was now exposed to the air. The t-cog would disintegrate upon the slightest touch. The mystery of the t-cog was that a mech could survive having it removed, but if the t-cog was damaged while it was installed, it could be fatal. (Disintegration was the most dangerous, as the loose pieces were often small enough to travel through the bloodstream and cause an embolism.) Because of this, it was difficult for Pharma to not resort back into old habits, as in necromancy. Even though he had only known Xaaron for a few days, he knew that Xaaron would never forgive him if he attempted such a thing. (Xaaron, despite being retired, was too powerful an Autobot to get on his bad side.) 

    A thought suddenly occurred to Pharma and he moved to the head of the bed. He opened Xaaron’s chassis and exposed his light teal spark. He then opened up his own chassis and moved closer to Xaaron. Pharma said to one of the legislators, “Get the jar and the spare. I have to be quick for this.”

   As soon as the legislators were ready, Pharma moved his spark even closer to Xaaron’s spark. Upon close proximity, Pharma felt his spark lightly zapping Xaaron’s spark, causing Xaaron to immediately turn to solid gold, as he felt touched by a divine energy. (After all, Pharma was the Reincarnation of Adaptus.) 

    Xaaron spoke in Primal Vernacular, his voice sounding different, “You have 30 seconds to remove the t-cog…”

   At that moment, almost instinctively, Pharma’s right ring fingertip retracted and turned into a socket wrench which he used to unscrew Xaaron’s gold t-cog. Once the t-cog was free, Pharma grabbed it and pulled it out, chucking it into the legislator’s jar, all under 10 seconds. Pharma then handed the loose screws to another legislator, who began to inspect them. The other legislator handed Pharma the spare t-cog, and he began to install it with Xaaron’s screws, which passed the inspection. (Only the t-cog was brittle.) As Pharma worked, Xaaron resumed his normal color.

    Suddenly, the legislator holding the jar gasped – Xaaron’s t-cog had turned to dust the moment Xaaron went back to normal. Fortunately, it was safely removed that Xaaron was unaffected by its inevitable destruction. Pharma still vacuumed Xaaron as a precaution and closed him up. The surgery took 30 minutes and most of the time was spent on opening up Xaaron.

    Nightbeat’s jaw dropped. He figured that the surgery would take at least an hour and a half. However, he had no idea that Pharma had been operating on Tarn back at Messantine and Pharma had no choice but to be quick about it.

    Ten wiggled excitedly in his seat. He may not have known much about medicine, but he knew the surgery was a success. He finished writing his notes and put them away in his subspace. Tyrest reached over and patted Ten’s head.

    “We’ll visit Xaaron much later after that drug wears off,” said Tyrest. “Little mechs like him are easily startled, especially by big bots like us, and then he’s a tank. Tanks are volatile no matter their size.”

    Back in the surgery room, Pharma got a clean rag and wiped the sweat off his face. He couldn’t remember the last time an operation made him nervous, but then he needed an occasional reminder to keep his hubris in check.

Chapter Text

    Xaaron was wheeled back to his room in the clinic. Pharma stayed beside him until he regained consciousness. In the t-cog surgeries he performed for Tarn, Pharma always had the anesthetic antidote on hand, since Tarn needed to leave immediately. But Pharma always thought it was better for the patient to recover from it on their own.

    Pharma put on his translation headphones because he sensed two legislators outside the door. He suspected that they were talking about him, but they weren’t. They were just discussing their plans for Quintessence Day. Pharma let out a relieved sigh and took off the headphones, placing them by Xaaron’s bedside.

    Back at Delphi, First Aid and Ambulon liked to stand by his office door and gossip about him. First Aid accused Pharma of being “useless” since he didn’t try to revive Fort Max. While Ambulon just badmouthed him in general. At first, Pharma dismissed the hostility as typical Decepticon rudeness. But it seemed there was more to it than that. Pharma tried to ignore it, since pointless antagonism was beneath him. Later, Ambulon offhandedly accused Pharma of being a Decepticon spy, not only because Pharma was Stanixian (Stanix is a Decepticon city-state) but that it was the reason Pharma hated him “for no reason”, not because he was a slob and a total gear-stick towards him. To make matters worse, this happened around the same time Pharma received an email telling him that Delphi was getting defunded. Hurt and furious, Pharma decided to take matters into his own hands, quite literally.

    Pharma went to his secret lab in the basement, which he had hidden deep into his garden. Transmuting an old SIM card and one of Ambulon’s cheese-sticks (because Pharma needed a reagent that his enemy enjoyed), Pharma received an official Decepticon SIM card. The transmuted SIM card’s frequency was similar to what Decepticon High Command used. Pharma had made the decision to contact the DJD to rid himself of Ambulon. Unfortunately, the DJD didn’t get rid of Ambulon. (Besides, if Pharma had been a real Decepticon spy, he would’ve known how inefficient the DJD was. But as an Autobot, he wasn’t immune to Decepticon propaganda and believed it.) Pharma did get enough supplies from them as to not rouse suspicion about the defunding, but it worsened his anxiety, so it wasn’t worth it.

    Suddenly, Xaaron grabbed Pharma by the wrist and spoke to him in Primal Vernacular with his posh Iaconian accent. “There is something I need to tell you.”

    “Go on,” said Pharma. The time seemed right for the effects of the anesthetic to wear off. “I’ve got the time, since I have to monitor your status.”

    Xaaron smiled and held Pharma’s hand. “You are a good friend and I’m so happy you were able to take time from your busy schedule to help me.” A tear ran down his cheek and he said, “Forgive my tears, there’s been so many things I’ve thought about lately. Many of them involve my beloved Impactor. He was wrongfully imprisoned in Garrus-9 and then the Wreckers went there but no one has told me anything about him. Do you know?”

    “Yes,” replied Pharma. He recognized the Wreckers because of First Aid, who was an avid fan of theirs. They had stopped on Messantine on their way to Earth, to drop off their human companion. The Wreckers specifically requested Pharma to come on board their ship, because of his 0% mortality rate while performing experimental life-saving surgeries. “He was weeping bitterly over Springer. I didn’t have a chance to speak with him because Perceptor and Roadbuster escorted him back to his room. You know it’s bad when those stoic types can’t hide their emotions anymore.”

    “Oh…” sighed Xaaron.

    Pharma felt immediate regret. He didn’t want to make Xaaron sad, but he also couldn’t lie to him. Impactor was alive, but emotionally unwell. Pharma did everything he could to stabilize Springer and Fort Max. Springer was more critical due to his weak book lungs. As for the others – the Jumpstarters and three other new soldiers, all who were killed during the battle, Pharma decided to reanimate them with his necromancy. As always, Pharma had to be subtle, rebuilding their bodies before getting close to their ears and whispering, “I’m sorry.”

    The mood certainly changed after these miraculous revivals. And for the first time, Pharma actually felt proud of his ability. It wasn’t until a few days later, that he realized that he actually had no regrets about this. Especially, since First Aid would’ve howled inconsolably if he knew some of them had died. He still howled when Pharma told him about Springer being put on life-support because his injuries were too severe and Kup was so adamant about it.

    Without thinking, Pharma hugged Xaaron. Holding back his tears, Xaaron uttered feebly, “I don’t deserve you, Ratchet.”

    Pharma froze. Then he realized the anesthetic he used was one hydrogen molecule away from being Truth Serum, a chemical which decreased self-control. Everything that Xaaron wanted to tell him was being told to him with the utmost sincerity.

    Xaaron continued, “It often makes me sad when I see you beating yourself up for not doing enough. You are a normal mech, you can't possibly do anymore even if you wanted to. The Autobot Cause thanks you…I thank you…Optimus thanked you too. Countless others whom you’ve treated and healed. Please remember this if you feel like giving up. I may not know as much about medicine as you, but now that I’m retired I’m more than happy to lend you an ear so you can vent when you need it.”

    With a nervous chuckle, Pharma replied, “Emirate, you’re talking to the wrong mech. Everyone hates me and doesn’t hesitate to tell me I’m worthless.”

    The reply startled Xaaron. He expected Ratchet’s usual reply of “Thank you, I needed that.” It was then that Xaaron realized that it was indeed the wrong mech. Indignant, Xaaron replied, “Of course they would tell you those lies, you’re the Reincarnation of Adaptus. Your very existence disturbs those who embrace chaos, because you’d bring order into this world.”

    “I’m the fruit of infidelity,” said Pharma. “That's the reason they hate me. Nobody in my family has shoulder-vents like these.”

    “One of Adaptus’ forms is a jet with vents exactly like those,” replied Xaaron. “It’s known as the HEPA Jet, it supposedly has the ability to purify the air. Purification of the air is obviously part of ‘Cleanse and Control’ and so is bringing order into this world. So once Vector Sigma decided you should be sparked, you were also granted the form of the mythical HEPA Jet. No one else naturally has this form but you.” Xaaron grabbed his phone and spoke to it. “HEPA Jet pics.”

    Xaaron showed Pharma the image results, all of them were artist renderings (albeit of different color palettes) of what the HEPA Jet was supposed to look like. Most of them were an exact match. “I’m sure this was one of the reasons why Functionists wanted everyone to stick to their natural alt-modes. The publicity surrounding a fraud would hurt their cause either way. I’m convinced that this is also why Vector Sigma decided that you should be born among non-believers. They wouldn’t realize how special you are, so you’d be safe from Functionists. The thought of them kidnapping…er, ‘adopting’ an innocent sparkling and indoctrinating him with their propaganda to use them as political leverage, sickens me.”

    “Do you think Ratchet may’ve known about the HEPA Jet?” asked Pharma.

    “Not sure,” said Xaaron. “He believed religion was a personal matter and rarely spoke about his views. He’s Vaporexan, and I know for a fact they worship Epistemus over there. Usually these sects just tend to focus on their Guiding Hand god, and Primus, and not concern themselves too much about the rest. But Ratchet has also spent a lot of time in Iacon, where Adaptus is worshipped. But I don’t recall him mentioning it to me.”

    Xaaron was thinking about what else to tell Pharma to keep the conversation going. He felt immediate relief just from being Pharma’s arm-length away from him, since Pharma was a living air-filter. Fortunately, Pharma didn’t have plans to go anywhere far, for long. Especially since Xaaron was close to Ratchet and had good things to say about him.

Chapter Text

    Lockdown and his crew were in their ship. While they were offered temporary housing on their stay on Luna-1, they had always politely declined. At least how Lugnut described it, “It’s too uncomfortably Autobot for my tastes.”

    As they were relaxing, Steve, the triple changer second-in-command, went to look for his captain, Lockdown. Lockdown was in the storage room counting the supplies – specifically the collection of body parts harvested from Tyrest Accord violators. Lockdown always made sure his ship was stocked with spare parts. (Even though new blank parts were readily available on Luna-1 for him to take on request, but Lockdown preferred hunting for pre-owned parts instead.)

    “Hey boss,” said Steve.

    “What?” growled Lockdown. “I’m busy.”

    “Aw man, I just wanted to remind you that you’ve got to go to that one conference room to give that legislator kid a quiz,” said Steve,

    “Fff…” gasped Lockdown. “How much time do I got?”

    “They said it was at 5:30,” replied Steve. “And it’s 5:10.”

    “I think I have an old quiz lying around,” said Lockdown as he tried to nonchalantly walk out of the room. He entered the medibay and pulled out one of his old med-school textbooks. At least Lockdown had remembered that the quiz had to be about t-cog surgery. He looked at the end of the chapter and saw a 30 question quiz. He made a couple of photocopies and then an extra copy of the quiz answers in the back of the textbook.

    Meanwhile, Tyrest was sitting in the conference room with Ten, helping him study. As much as he wanted to stop Ten from pursuing a career in enforcing the Tyrest Accord, he also couldn’t bear to see Ten fail. (Even if the purpose of the quiz was to make it more difficult for Ten to apply to be a Duly Appointed Deputy of the Tyrest Accord.)

    “You’ve learned so much from observing the operation,” said Tyrest, “don’t you want to study medicine instead? You’d help plenty of people and I’ve been told it’s a very fulfilling career.”

    Ten paused and said, “From what I’ve heard, Ultra Magnus was still able to attend college, online, and got his music degree. I think he’s currently studying art too. If I got to work as a deputy, I could possibly study medicine in my down time. But I don’t know if my interest in medicine is because anatomy fascinates me. At least because I want to get good at drawing it.”

    “You can study medicine and art,” said Tyrest. “Even with photography, learning via hand-drawn diagrams is still helpful.”

    “Could a deputy be a forensic artist?” asked Ten. “From what I’ve heard, these artists can reconstruct the faces of rusted mechs to show how they may have looked like when they were alive. That’s medical, artistic, and a very useful skill for a deputy who’s investigating the case to possess.”

    “…Yes,” replied Tyrest. “And while it does combine those skills, do you really think you’d be able to handle looking at a rusted corpse?”

    “Well, I grew up seeing you examine evidence and some of it was rusted corpses,” replied Ten. “The others were mutilated corpses; ripped apart during a struggle, it seems…”

    Tyrest turned pale and let out a soft gasp.

    Ten tried to remain calm and succeeded in doing so externally; internally he was filled with dread because he had never seen Tyrest, his beloved dam, so mortified. Ten had always found forensics fascinating, as far as he could remember. However, he knew that Tyrest wouldn’t be happy about him observing while he examined the evidence. Specifically, the more gruesome evidence. Ten always sneaked in to peek and being blessed with excellent stealth, he never got caught. He never did, until now but only because he admitted to it.

    Just then, a portal opened up, and Lockdown walked in. He sensed the tension in the room almost immediately. Tyrest stood up and quietly exited the room. Tyrest was on the verge of tears, as he was leaving, crippled by the immense guilt of exposing his only son to horrific crimes due to his carelessness.

    When the door closed, Lockdown finally realized that Tyrest was crying. Calmly, he said to Ten, “Look kid. I don’t want to know what happened between you two. I just want to get this freakin’ quiz over with.”

    “Ten…,” replied Ten anxiously.

    “Shi…p,” mumbled Lockdown. He remembered that he forgot his translating headphones in his room and was too proud – ashamed to retrieve them. He had no idea what legislators said. He had even less of an idea how Tyrest even managed to understand their number-speak without translation devices.

    Lockdown handed Ten one of the test copies. It was in that exact moment that he remembered he left the pencils for Ten on his ship's medibay counter. Fortunately, Ten had brought his own mechanical pencil and a white drafting eraser. Ten read the quiz as Lockdown looked on. He wasn’t sure if Ten was reading the questions aloud or nervously muttering his name over and over again. Unfortunately, it was the latter.

    Ten had never seen Tyrest make that face before and was consumed by guilt for upsetting him, not only because Tyrest was his dam but also the queen of the colony. He knew that admitting to seeing gory photos was what upset Tyrest. But Ten figured that Tyrest wouldn’t care anymore, now that he was a well-adjusted adult and clearly the product of an excellent upbringing. At least, that’s what any legislator in general would think, but Tyrest isn’t a legislator like them. For the most part, Ten was preoccupied thinking about this, instead of his quiz.

    Lockdown was observing Ten fill out the quiz and saw Ten work so methodically that even the circles he drew around his answer choices were perfect. Lockdown wondered if this was why Tyrest was afraid of letting legislators be enforcers and  deputies – they would be too orderly and efficient for the job. Despite his harshness, Tyrest valued mechanity, and would be displeased that his employees were nothing more than ruthless killing machines. At least, this is what Lockdown wondered when he executed violators in cold blood to harvest their parts. He often felt guilt for even thinking about hunting mechs. But he always tried to lie to himself and say it was for the common good or greater sense or whatever nice-sounding nonsense that Tyrest would accept. To Lockdown, Ten might look like a sweet innocent kid, but he was probably a natural-born killer who wouldn’t hesitate to crush anyone’s skull if they even looked at him funny.

    Ten handed Lockdown the paper and Lockdown checked the answers. Lockdown could sense the tension in the room and wasn't sure what to make of it. Legislators in general were extremely unpredictable. Unlike other Cybertronians, their faces were made of a hard-plating and weren’t as facially expressive. They only appeared to have three expressions; calm, upset, and extremely pissed. Lockdown had seen legislators execute a violator while having a calm expression, so none of their facial expressions mattered. Lockdown felt that if he marked an answer wrong, Ten would probably go ballistic on him. (Lockdown saw himself as too young and handsome to die.) Luckily, Ten answered everything correctly and scored a perfect 10.

    He showed the score to Ten, but that didn’t seem to lighten Ten’s mood. Lockdown put the quiz and the answers in a folder, which he planned to drop off at Tyrest’s office for revision. He then told Ten he was dismissed and Ten ran out of the conference room as fast as he could. Lockdown shook his head, locked the room, and teleported himself to the front of Tyrest’s office, which was closed. He put the envelope in the mail slot before going back to his ship.

    Meanwhile, Ten ran to Tyrest’s room and saw that the door was locked. Immediately, he feared the worst. It reminded him of the time he finished his finals and had happily hurried back to Tyrest’s room only to find the door locked. Fortunately, Ten carried a key and entered, but the room was uncomfortably quiet. Concerned, Ten called out Tyrest and heard no answer. He went into the bedchamber and found Tyrest unresponsive on the floor in a pool of blood. It was then when Ten noticed Tyrest’s retracted index finger, exposing a bloodied drill. Panicked, Ten pushed the drill back into the finger and ran out of the room calling for help. It was the worst three days Ten ever had, because his dam nearly died and he hoped to never relive it. Taking a deep breath, Ten opened the door.

    There was a housekeeper observing in the distance and two medics who were bandaging up Tyrest’s legs. Ten approached the housekeeper and asked, “What happened to my dam?”

    “I had entered the room to clean and saw that he had an outbreak of those holes all over his legs,” he replied. “I called the medics to get him cleaned up and bandaged. Poor thing, his work is stressing him out. He should quit and take care of the sparklings instead, like a proper queen. His health will improve because of it.”

    It took most of his willpower for Ten to maintain composure. He walked up to Tyrest and asked, “What happened?”

    “Don’t worry, I had an outbreak,” replied Tyrest calmly. “But it’s my fault. I was irresponsible and not careful about observing my surroundings. I couldn’t keep it under control.” Tyrest looked at his legs as the medics finished. “I don’t think I’d be able to go visit Xaaron this evening. My legs hurt too much to walk and video-chatting isn’t the same as having a one-on-one talk with him.”

    Ten somehow managed to find more willpower to still stay calm. He asked, “What if I carried you? Just like you carried me when I was a baby.”

    Tyrest let out a tiny cough but then burst into tears. Ten hugged him and attempted to coo because he had heard that jets were calmed by that. The other legislators looked on, confused by Ten’s odd affectionate act. Uncomfortable, because it clashed with their strict and more formal social norms, they exited the room.

    Ten wasn’t naïve and knew Tyrest’s holes were self-inflicted, since that day he found him unconscious. (And a later incident where he had walked in on Tyrest self-harming, which made Ten re-evaluate his entire childhood. He felt so ashamed for not noticing his dam’s suffering.) Ten couldn’t confront Tyrest about it; the way he reacted to Ten admitting that he watched him work was proof of that and Ten couldn’t risk upsetting him further. Telling the other legislators was even worse. They were a proud people and like other insecticons, they took pride in the well-being of their breeding colony queen. For their queen to have self-harming tendencies and possibly suicidal tendencies, was an unspeakable shame because they saw it as failure for inadequately caring for their queen.

    Ten’s only hope was the foreigners – Emirate Xaaron, the Missionaries from New Crystal City, Nightbeat, and his hero, Ultra Magnus. (Lockdown and his crew were too cruel and ruthless in Ten’s eyes. Ten was intimidated by them, especially Lockdown because he thought he was mean.) From the stargazing he had learned from Tyrest, Ten was reassured that a fiery-tempered foreigner would cure him. At first, Ten thought it was Ultra Magnus, but Magnus was clearly a cool individual. He then figured it would be Xaaron, but Xaaron was cool too, even though he didn’t hesitate to tell the truth no matter how painful it was. Then there was Star Saber, who also didn’t hesitate to tell the truth, but Ten was intimidated by his power and also because he feared Star Saber would flip out upon learning about the self-harm. (Self-harm is a grave sin in all Primalist religions.) To play it safe, Ten felt more comfortable trying to talk to Xaaron about the subject. But that wasn't a reasonable thing to do either, Xaaron was currently recovering from surgery.

    Remembering that he had a small bag of trailmix, Ten pulled it out and offered it to Tyrest, who was starting to calm down. It was then that Ten remembered that Pharma, the Reincarnation of Adaptus, was there. Ten had only seen him twice and knew right away that he was nice.

Chapter Text

    The rest of the day had been mostly uneventful, which was probably a good thing for everyone because they needed to take a break. But for Pharma, his only break was his lunch break. Shortly after completing the surgery, Luna-1’s CMO sent him to the Pharmacy next door to help fill prescriptions until his shift ended.

    That evening, after his shift was over, Pharma decided to return to the medibay to visit Xaaron and check on him. Thankfully, Xaaron was doing well and his body was still processing the recently installed t-cog. (Apparently, Xaaron's body lacked the updates to process a new, modern t-cog. So not only was his body dealing with a new transplant, but with important hardware updates as well.) 

    Pharma logged into the computer in Xaaron's room, and read the tentative report on Xaaron’s progress. About an hour ago, Xaaron was cleared to eat food. Casually, Pharma said to him, “Emirate, a snack would help you with your recovery.”

    “Then, give it to me,” replied Xaaron, who disliked having food withheld from him. Worried that he came off rudely, he continued, “Please. The last time I ate was breakfast. They didn't even give me lunch.”

    “Alright,” said Pharma, as he logged out, “I'll be right back.” Pharma left the room and approached one of the legislators who was walking to the clinic’s pantry.

    Pharma still wasn't given the pantry's password. The legislators prohibited access to the pantry until the new non-legislative employee proved that they weren't going to take the food. (Due to the scarcity of food on Cybertron, the outsiders were tempted by the availability in the pantry.) 

    The legislator decided to help Pharma with punching in the password. (As in, he punched a large button and the locking device recognized him from the force of the punch.) He also waited for Pharma, and kept his eyes on him. 

    Since Xaaron didn't specify what he wanted, Pharma decided to pull out apple juice from the fridge and poured it into a small cup. He got a small transparent baggy and filled it with droid-shaped crackers (which were gluten-free). After Pharma got what he needed, they left, and locked the pantry. The legislator resumed his tasks, and Pharma returned to Xaaron’s room to give him the snacks.

    Xaaron looked at the snacks and said, “Thank you.” He took a sip of the juice and ate one of the crackers. 

    Although the snacks were delicious, Xaaron couldn’t help but feel disappointed about the fact that the legislators were serving steak for dinner, and meat (living metal) was too heavy for him to eat. Although several of his sensory sensors were starting to fail, the one that detected scents still worked. Had he remembered sooner, Xaaron would’ve begged to postpone the surgery a few more days. (Pharma and the rest of the medical team would've denied him such a request, as his condition was serious.)

    Another legislator entered the room to check Xaaron's vitals. Since Xaaron was no longer hangry, he happily complied. (In the change of shift report, Xaaron didn't want to be touched and instinctively pulled his cannon at the nurse, only to immediately apologize when he realized what he had done.) After taking Xaaron's vitals, the legislator logged into the computer and began to document his findings. 

    “Huh, it’s almost going to be dinner, I assumed Tyrest and Ten would’ve been here by now,” said Xaaron as he checked his phone. Since Xaaron was still processing the installation and the updates, his internal clock was out of sync with the current time.

    “He’s probably running late,” replied Pharma.

    “Impossible, my friend is very punctual,” replied Xaaron. “Something has happened to him. Otherwise, he'd have sent me a text informing me of his delay.”

    The legislator, knowing that Tyrest had injured his legs about an hour ago, shrugged. Although Xaaron was small and frail, he knew better than to upset a tank. (Tanks tend to be volatile, as evidenced by Xaaron pulling out his cannon earlier.) The legislator decided to logout and leave the room to finish his charting on another computer, when he saw Ten walking down the hallway, led by another legislator who was carrying Tyrest. Surprised but relieved that Tyrest was in good hands, the legislator went to a nearby cubicle to continue document Xaaron’s progress.

    As Ten knocked on the door, the legislator carrying Tyrest put him down, and waited for someone to answer the door. Pharma opened the door and noticed Tyrest’s injuries but said nothing. Ten hurried to Xaaron’s bedside as Tyrest stopped at the entrance and washed his hands at the sink. Pharma saw that Tyrest retracted his dried-energon stained drills, rinsing them off thoroughly before putting them away.

    Meanwhile, Xaaron opened his cracker baggy and offered a couple of crackers to Ten. Suddenly, Pharma turned around and saw them, asking, “Do you two want more crackers? I can ask for more.”

    Overhearing him, Tyrest interjected, “No, we’re going to have gingerbread cookies for dessert. It’s not good to have too many sweets before bedtime.”

    “These crackers just taste like cinnamon, there’s hardly anything sweet about them,” replied Xaaron, since the crackers weren't enough to satiate his hunger.

    “I forget you Iaconians put excessive amounts of sugar in everything,” said Tyrest. “This is why Prowl has diabetes. He came to Iacon and ate too many of your sugary pastries.”

    “No, he doesn’t,” replied Xaaron. “He has pre-diabetes. That’s different.” Xaaron turned to Pharma. “Tell him it’s different. Because it means he’s only at risk for it. Not that Prowl actually has it.”

    Not wanting to get caught in the middle of an argument between two prominent and notoriously scrupulous Cybertronian lawyers (one of whom was promoted to judge), Pharma said, “The risk was still high for him to receive that diagnosis.”

    Pharma continued, “I studied in Iacon too. The pastries were averagely sweet. I think it's that in the Sea of Rust, people prefer to use alternative sweeteners like syrup or honey, and reserve the sugar for coffee or jam.”

    “That's common sense,” scoffed Tyrest.

    “The Rustic syrup isn’t any better,” said Xaaron. “The artificial kind is used a lot because it’s cheaper than the natural kind, and that is worse than regular sugar.”

    Just then, Star Saber entered the room, interrupting the pointless bickering with his presence alone. Earlier, before Pharma’s shift had ended, Xaaron asked Star Saber to bring him his laptop to the medibay, since the doctors told him he was going to stay for the night. (Xaaron originally wanted Nightbeat to be the one bringing him the laptop, because Nightbeat knew where it was, but Nightbeat’s phone was turned off – presumably its battery died.) Star Saber approached Xaaron and pulled out Xaaron’s mini laptop from his subspace, handing it to him.

    Xaaron got his regular-sized laptop from Star Saber and turned it on. The first thing Xaaron wanted to do was check his emails. Despite being retired, Autobot High Command always tried to get in touch with him.

    “My apologies for taking so long,” said Star Saber, “I had to take an important call.”

    “I was wondering why you stayed behind,” replied Tyrest, who met up with Star Saber while he was signing in as a visitor. “I know there’s like 10 pages of forms you must fill out, but that’s a one-time occurrence if you’re currently stationed here.”

    “Who were you calling?” asked Xaaron, without looking up from his laptop.

    “Nightbeat and my friends,” replied Star Saber. “But Nightbeat didn’t answer.”

    “It’s likely that his phone’s battery was depleted of its power while he was conducting an investigation,” said Xaaron. “Do not underestimate how strong his focus is.”

    “That makes sense,” nodded Star Saber. He turned to Ten, and then back to Xaaron before adding, “The reason why I came was not only to see how your surgery turned out but also to talk to you about our old personal project we’ve been working on for weeks.” Although Tyrest appeared calm, he seemed upset about having secrets withheld from him. Star Saber continued, “Lost cities and all…”

    “I see…” said Tyrest, as he motioned for Ten to leave the room with them.

    Thinking that it wasn’t any of his business either, Pharma left the room after them. Xaaron’s eyes widened, because he wanted Pharma to stay but he didn’t want to embarrass Pharma. 

    Star Saber shrugged and said, “My colleagues finally got a good thorough look at the codex. And in it, they found an old, stylized map of Luna-1. When you feel better, we’ll take you to our conference room and show it to you. If it’s accurate, Adaptica is located on the ‘Dark Side of the Moon’. The city’s layout is in the shape of Adaptus’ symbol.”

    “Ugh…” sighed Xaaron. “That’s where the terrorcon infestation seems to stem from too. So the tales of the demons corrupting the earth; they’ve defiled this holy city. But, I have a plan.”

    “What do you have in mind?” asked Star Saber.

    “I need to double-check my sources, but it involves crafting an experimental weapon,” said Xaaron. “I don’t recall its proper name, but the weapon makes spark-eaters explode. These terrorcons are no different than sparkeaters, at least the ones we’ve seen.”

    “Which sources?” asked Star Saber, intrigued by the thought of blowing up the undead.

    “It’s in the Covenant of Primus, in the book of Solus Prime,” replied Xaaron. “Not sure, but I believe the passages are in the 25th chapter. It’s towards the end; where it starts talking about the end of days and how we will revolt against the great evil, needing to arm ourselves in the process.”

    “I know which passages you’re referring to,” said Star Saber. “But the description of the weapon is unclear. Likely because it’s too dangerous and with our warring nature, it could easily fall into the hands of enemies.”

    “Yeah, that’s why I wanted Pharma here,” said Xaaron. “But no, he left with Tyrest, following him like a little jetling. Perhaps we can convince Pharma to come join us in one of our meetings. Pharma seems like he’d be interested.”

    “I can call him back here, if you want,” said Star Saber.

    “No, it’s fine, we’ll talk to him later,” said Xaaron as he resumed his meeting with Star Saber.

Chapter Text

    Outside of Xaaron’s room, Pharma led Tyrest to a nearby waiting area where they had planned to eat dinner. Pharma was fortunate to find a wheelchair and he, with Ten’s help, sat Tyrest down and rolled him the rest of the way. 

    Casually, Tyrest said to Ten, “Just to be sure, please inform the cafeteria that we’ll be dining here. I can’t remember if I called them earlier to confirm this.”

    Ten grabbed Tyrest’s phone and called the cafeteria, and as soon as they answered, Ten handed the phone to Tyrest, who took the call. Ten then saw Pharma was sitting on a chair, and went to sit next to him. He motioned to Pharma, asking him to equip his translation headset, as he had something important to tell him.

    Pharma equipped it and as soon as he was ready, Ten spoke, “Excuse me sir, I need your help.”

    “What is it?” asked Pharma.

    “Please sign these forms,” said Ten, as he handed the forms to Pharma.

    Pharma read over the forms and his eyes widened. Due to the urgency of Xaaron’s emergency surgery, Pharma was obligated to sign the requisite forms requesting authorization to conduct surgical intervention on Luna-1. This formality was imperative for both Autobots and Decepticons,  in accordance with the provisions set forth in the Tyrest Accord. 

    Tyrest had plans to give the forms to Pharma, but then he felt unwell. (Luckily, Ten remembered and had grabbed his own copy to give to Pharma, the next time he saw him.) Ten then pulled out a clipboard, for Pharma to sign his paperwork on. 

    This wasn’t the first time that Tyrest had gotten signatures afterwards. Although Tyrest was an exceedingly law-abiding individual, he was more than willing to circumvent the laws in order to provide assistance to his friends and others in need, even if he disliked them. 

    In one such case, Deathsaurus needed emergency surgery after being gravely injured in a “dispute.” He was impaled and not only was he nearly skewered through the spark, but his two symbiotic minicons were badly injured as well. The former Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord who represented the Decepticons, Flywheels, was the one who brought him over to Luna-1. 

    According to Flywheels, Deathsaurus and his subordinates were ambushed by Thunderclash and his Turbomasters, near Klyntar. Thunderclash harbored a grudge towards Deathsaurus for refusing to procure an experimental weapon on his behalf. Flywheels insisted that Deathsaurus was being falsely accused of violating the Tyrest Accord, since he was a popular merchant with clientele from both factions. The Chief Justice obviously believed Flywheels and allowed Leozack and Lysack, two of Deathsaurus’ subordinates, to perform the surgery. Afterwards, they signed the forms, and left with Deathsaurus after he was discharged from the medibay.

    Although there was no evidence of illegal weapons on Deathsaurus’ ship, Ten felt something was amiss. He remembered this incident vividly. Although he was a young preschooler at the time, Ten caught a glimpse of Deathsaurus being brought in, and was shocked at his condition. Naturally, he understood the need for immediate surgical intervention, but the situation never made much sense. As far as Ten was concerned, this ambush seemed uncharacteristic of Thunderclash. (Later on, Ten had met Thunderclash a few years afterward. Thunderclash gave the impression of being an honest, dutiful mech, akin to Ultra Magnus.) Ten asked Tyrest about this incident, when he was older.

    However, Tyrest simply warned Ten to be wary of Autobot and Decepticon Propaganda. Tyrest insisted that the Autobots and Decepticons both claim that their best warriors are the most righteous mechs. Clearly, Tyrest was skeptical that Thunderclash was a perfect, purehearted mech. (As far as Tyrest was concerned, if Thunderclash truly possessed the vaunted virtue ascribed to him, he would’ve sought to distance himself from the Autobots, emulating Tyrest's own decision, years ago.) Ten wasn’t satisfied with this answer, although it was very reasonable, and still thought about it many years later.

    Fortunately, he didn’t have to think of it much longer, since Tyrest returned after finishing his call. He seemed to have improved somewhat, but was still weakened from his injuries. Pharma went to hand Tyrest the paperwork that Ten had given him. Pleasantly surprised, Tyrest said to Pharma, “You need to turn in those forms to the CMO, Nine One-One. He has a mailbox right outside his office. I know he’s a busy mech.”

    As Pharma asked Tyrest for directions to the CMO’s office, Xaaron and Star Saber were still plotting their search for Adaptica. Casually, Xaaron asked Star Saber, “May you hand me my phone? I need to ask Nightbeat to come over at once.”

    Star Saber grabbed Xaaron’s phone, which was charging on the nightstand, and handed it to him. 

    “Thank you,” replied Xaaron, as he was about to call Nightbeat, but he immediately decided against it and sent him a text instead. “I just remembered that he was going to be video-chatting with one of his relatives – either his sister, Minerva, or his cousin, Ultra Magnus.”

    “I’ve heard much about Ultra Magnus' reputation as a formidable Enforcer,” began Star Saber. “Is there a reason we’re unable to solicit his assistance in our current endeavor?”

    “He’s on a mission onboard a ship known as The Lost Light,” explained Xaaron. “That ship is very far from here. Pharma was also onboard as well and ended up warping back here with Lockdown and his crew.”

    “That’s fair,” nodded Star Saber. Warping a small ship and crew was difficult. (And a larger ship, like the Lost Light, was an even greater challenge.)

    Xaaron continued, “I had actually been appointed as a crewmember of The Lost Light. However, at the very last moment, I got very sick, and ended up missing the launch. In retrospect, this was probably for the best anyway. Had I been able to participate, I wouldn’t have ended up coming here to Luna-1, and discover that my friend was in need of my assistance. As for Ultra Magnus himself, not sure if you’d like him…”

    “Please explain,” replied Star Saber.

    “He is one of those large, gentle mechs, who only uses extreme violence as a last resort,” said Xaaron. He paused, because he really didn't think his argument through. (Xaaron still hadn't completely recovered from his surgery.) In an attempt to save face, he added, “The first time he faced the Decepticons' Ninja Consultant, Sixshot, Magnus shot at the ground and told Sixshot, ‘This is how I do things.’ Which resulted in a brief altercation with Sixhot and his party, and ended with the Decepticons retreating.”

    Star Saber blinked and uttered, “That’s cold. In our Eastern tradition, a Ninja Officer like that has a duty to fight the opposing commander for the sake of his honor, and send him to Hell. So Ultra Magnus taunted Sixshot by missing him on purpose.” 

    Xaaron blinked, since he wasn’t expecting Star Saber’s reaction at all, but then Xaaron is a Westerner.

    Star Saber continued, “Oh…but this is an unfortunate thing to hear about…that Sixshot has joined the Decepticons…” He began to explain that Sixshot also studied the blade around the same time as he did. Both were Master Yoketron’s students, however Star Saber and Sixshot weren’t really friends. However, didn’t think Sixshot would ever join the Decepticons, since he always held Honor in high priority, and would never bow down to anyone other than Primus and the Guiding Hand.

    But the Great War had a way of figuratively molding mechs’ sparks. Sixshot found himself questioning and meditating everything he was taught. In the end, he came to the conclusion that he wished to be the strongest Cybertronian warrior and Megatron was the only mech who could help him. However, Sixshot didn’t entirely forsake all of his beliefs, in fact he’s one of the few Decepticon Point-One Percenters who believed in the Decepticon Cause for altruistic reasons. (Ironically, if Sixshot knew that the majority of his former companions from the Circle of Light aligned with the Autobots, he’d be numbed from the shock. As he saw the Autobots as heretics.)

    Suddenly, Xaaron’s phone vibrated and he answered it. It was a message from Tyrest, inviting both him and Star Saber over for dinner in the medibay. Although Xaaron wasn’t officially discharged yet, he was allowed to go have dinner with his friend. As he and Star Saber walked down the hallway, they spotted Lockdown who was leaving the medibay with some restricted medications they had ordered on his behalf.

    Normally, these medications were only for licensed medical personnel but since Tyrest trusted Lockdown and found him to be a competent medic, he authorized Lockdown to have them on his ship.

    Looking at Lockdown, Star Saber said, “When I first saw him I thought he was a fervent  Adaptus Cultist like Dai Atlas. But other observations have led me to conclude otherwise. I have never heard him talk about our faith, yet he doesn’t seem like an apostate either.”

    Frowning, Xaaron replied, “This war has made many mechs experiment with skepticism. I’m sure he’s experiencing such a crisis of faith. And yet, he perseveres, like a flickering candle battling against the wind. Perhaps one day, in the future, he may find solace, thereby restoring his faith to its former brilliance.”

    As Star Saber contemplated inviting Lockdown and his crew to his planned sword fighting lessons with Pharma, they arrived at the room where Tyrest’s dinner was to be held. Star Saber knocked on the door, Pharma got up and answered it, allowing Star Saber and Xaaron to come inside and join them.

Chapter Text

    Since Lockdown wanted to hurry to his ship, he used the teleporter. He had seen better days, but this one certainly wasn't his worst. 

    His crew immediately noted his unpleasant mood and said nothing, while avoiding him. They knew that Lockdown needed his space. Lockdown went to his room and locked himself inside. Ten's unintentional intimidation made Lockdown both lose his hunger and his sleep. Perhaps that was a good thing, Lockdown had been feeling that he was a tad overweight, but unsure why. (He'd been eating well on Luna-1. But also, some of the new upgrades he gave himself came from mechs whose living metal was of a higher density. These mechs were naturally heavier despite their size.)

    He decided to lie down on his bed. As he lay on his back, Lockdown realized that he was alone with his thoughts, and the fact that he forgot his radio in the gym on his ship. He was too proud to open his door to get it, so he had no choice but to reflect on his life and what had gone wrong.

    As a sparkling, he never envisioned himself as a bounty hunter who took the parts of foolish mechs to make himself more beautiful and more powerful. (In fact, he seemed to have a pretty good sense of self-worth and a decent level of self-esteem back then.) Like Pharma, he too was from a humble little village and lived a simple, carefree life. Unlike Pharma, his family loved him and had given everything possible to make him happy and safe. They were also deeply religious and had a particular devotion to Adaptus. In their prayers, they hoped that by the divine grace of Adaptus, they'd be blessed with a positive change in their lives.

    Adaptus seemed to have heard their prayers, many years later. Word spread that a nearby town had registrations for an entrance exam to Cybertron’s prestigious Academy of Science and Technology in Iacon. Of course, Lockdown wasn't the only one who heard this. Many others did as well, and Lockdown barely managed to secure a spot, before the registrations were completely filled.

    His family was surprised by this, given that Lockdown was very shy and lived up to his name – he liked to stay in his room and didn’t go out. But such prestigious careers were rare in those parts. So the fact that Lockdown was moved to participate was seen as a miraculous sign. As further proof of the miracle, Lockdown performed phenomenally in the entrance exam, and the Academy of Science and Technology had no choice but to accept him and grant him a full-ride scholarship. Lockdown realized the value of his success. It was even an honor for him to have a chance, so he felt it was his duty to succeed and not disappoint anyone. After all, everyone depended on him. (This particular fishing village was at the mercy of the seasons. Some seasons weren't good for fishing, leaving the population unemployed or starving.)

    As idyllic as it seemed, the academy was far from perfect. In fact, it was horrible! The elites who worked and attended there, viewed Lockdown and the rest of his fellow local mechs with a great deal of contempt; all because they were lowly born. For these elites, Lockdown was no different than a service droid. While this discouraged many of his peers, all it did was further motivate Lockdown. He wanted the elites to eat their own words and he worked harder than anyone else there. As a result, he always scored well and passed all of his tests. It seemed that no one could stop him, and that he’d graduate with honors. After all, he only wanted to succeed because he promised his family that he would support them all with his medical career.

    Little did he know that what seemed like a miracle was nothing more than a political ploy. The reason the Academy of Science and Technology even did the entrance exam in the first place was to show that the reason they didn’t admit lower-caste mechs was because of their ineptitude. They did this to silence accusations of elitism. But it backfired horribly when the lower-caste mechs performed above expectations. It continued to backfire as Lockdown excelled, outperforming those with old money. To save themselves from embarrassment, they decided to sabotage Lockdown. All his instructors met to discuss this. The faculty was divided. Many of them quit because they felt it was unethical and wrong to fail Lockdown. (Besides, being a doctor was a rare gift. It was an even rarer gift when the doctor, in question, was incredibly talented.) But those who stayed carried out their scheme.

    By chance, one of the young instructors, who had recently resigned, approached Lockdown to tell him about the scheme the other teachers were plotting against him. But angry at everyone who wasn’t of the same lower-caste as him, Lockdown berated this instructor and ignored his supposedly absurd claims. Although Lockdown forgot this instructor's name, he never forgot his face. It was very similar to Pharma's face, and Lockdown realized that was why he hated Pharma at first sight. (But then, thinking about it in this moment, as he lay in bed; this instructor was a grounder and seemed to be some sort of van, rather than a jet. But, Lockdown assumed that Pharma switched alternate modes and continued to despise him. Even though Pharma was too young to have even started attending preschool back then.)

    But Lockdown also ate his own words. Just as this former instructor said, Lockdown bombed all of his tests! His final semester score was so bad that he had no choice but to withdraw from the program because he failed the semester. He tried to appeal his test scores but was unsuccessful. They told him that they’d admit him back into the program, if he re-enrolled. But with this he wasn’t going to have a scholarship, he would have to pay out of pocket. Heartbroken, Lockdown returned to his village. Although his family and neighbors greeted him with joy, he was filled with immense guilt for having disgraced them with his failure.

    In his anguishing, he prayed and asked Adaptus why he had forsaken him, but received no reply. His prayer seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

    One of his friends, who failed the entrance exam, because he wasn't as smart as Lockdown, had recently started working as a bounty hunter because it seemed like a safer job regardless of the season. Seeing that Lockdown was extremely depressed because he promised to support his family but couldn’t, his friend dragged him along, and they began to work together. Lockdown was always quick-thinking in tough situations, which made him excel as a bounty hunter too. They worked together for many years and Lockdown was beginning to overcome his guilt because he could support his family with his bounty hunter gigs.

    However, just as things were looking up, Lockdown found himself on another dangerous mission, but this time it ended badly. In the fight, they cut off his right hand. From the mix of shock and horror, Lockdown killed his assailant/target. Since his original hand was destroyed beyond repair, he tried to install the assailant's hand on his own wrist, but it didn’t work. The other hand wasn’t good since it wasn’t his original medic hand. It was at that moment that Lockdown came to the shocking reality that Adaptus, whom he had prayed to every night since he was a young sparkling, had abandoned him.

    Perhaps this was the moment that figuratively killed the “old” Lockdown, and the “current” Lockdown was reborn. This current Lockdown felt that he failed because he was not good-enough; economically, mentally, and physically. This is why he became obsessed with upgrading himself to move away from his in-born flaws. (To be honest, his attempt to replace his hand felt so…good that he wanted to experience a similar thrill in repairing himself.) After all, with his hand destroyed, it also destroyed his chance of ever being a doctor again. He decided to replace his right hand with a hook.

    Regardless, Lockdown continued to work as a bounty hunter and quickly gained a reputation for being so cold-blooded and ruthless. Along the way, he recruited some exiled insecticons, who were as much misfits as himself and his friend. (His friend had randomly decided to rename himself, “Steve.”) Lockdown’s notoriety was well-known by the time the war began that he was contacted by Starscream, to join him on a mission. Starscream made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

    Shortly, after the Decepticons stormed Iacon. By chance, Starscream’s mission was to siege the Academy of Science and Technology in Iacon. It was until that moment, that Lockdown no longer questioned why he was recruited for this mission. It seemed all his fellow Decepticons had a grudge against the academy, including Starscream. There was a certain comradery felt; everyone involved was out for blood.

    While they besieged the academy, Lockdown eventually cornered one of the instructors who was in charge of the sabotage. Out of fear, and perhaps knowing that his time was up, he confessed everything to Lockdown. He recalled that Lockdown was devoted to Adaptus. Naively, he expected Lockdown to forgive him, as dictated by his religion, but that wasn’t the case. Without hesitation, Lockdown killed the mech and salvaged him for parts. In particular, he took the mech's hands for himself, as medic hands were very rare to find.

    Later that day, Lockdown repaired his hook hand with the parts from the doctor. And stored the other parts for later use. Restoring his own medic hands felt pleasurable. But still, this act of revenge and restoring his hands did nothing for him. 

    Over the years, Lockdown changed every centimeter cubed of his body, but the one thing he couldn't change was his devotional facial markings. Every time he tried, his arms seemed to freeze up. He couldn't understand why, until he realized that by removing them, he removed something dear to his family whom he still loved. But at this point, Lockdown was so far gone that he didn't realize that his disgusting behavior was already an affront to his family's honor and beliefs, because they certainly didn't raise him this way. Still, despite everything, the reason his family still managed to fail him was that they neglected to instill faith in him. Faith cannot be taught.

    As much as they loved their treasured religious customs, that's all they were – customs. There wasn't any drop of legitimate heartfelt devotion in what they did. They practiced rituals, not faith. It was no wonder that this superficiality rubbed off on their impressionable young son. Its shallowness is what became of it and why Lockdown cannot erase his devotional facial markings. 

    Lockdown still occasionally visited his family, but they're always nervous around him. Lockdown, thought it was because he became so beautiful and powerful that his simple relatives are unable to comprehend his perfection. But the truth is that he serves as a living reminder of their faith; which is a beautiful shell outside, and inside, it's a miserable emptiness. His relatives look at him and wonder what happened to their precious son. The smart little sparkling who had great aspirations to become a doctor and save people. Why did he become such a creepy morbid bastard who he hates himself and his life? But then, as they were of such little faith; they didn't care to find the answer and the healing for him, as Lockdown's bounty hunter gigs paid very well. And with these gigs, Lockdown supported them financially. In fact, he probably made a lot more money as a bounty hunter than he would've if he had been an honest doctor. So, somehow, his parents' prayers, who had always asked for positive changes, were answered. And it was all well-worth the price of losing their smart little sparkling.

Chapter Text

    The next day, after Xaaron was discharged from the clinic to recover in his room, Pharma went to see Tyrest at his office. The only other time Pharma had been in an office was when he attended school. Unlike the school administrators’ offices, Tyrest’s office was invitingly spacious and had beautiful golden decor. 

    Tyrest had a manila folder on his desk, inside were the forms requesting permission for surgery on Luna-1, and the job application form at the clinic (which was actually called “The Central Clinic”.) After greeting each other, Tyrest informed Pharma that the permission form was going to be backdated. That way, there’s record that Pharma had requested to perform surgery on Xaaron since it was an emergency or else Xaaron would die, if not treated. (This was mandatory for any mech, Autobot or Decepticon, who needed to have surgery on Luna-1.)

    For some reason, Pharma felt relaxed. Usually, when he was told to speak to a superior, he got nervous and needed constant bathroom breaks. Despite being much larger than him, Tyrest was clearly a friendly mech.

    Pharma read over the documents carefully before signing them. In the past, Pharma skimmed through them but ever since he read First Aid’s untranslated Wreckers Datalogs, he swore to never skim through anything ever again. According to the Datalogs, during the Aequitas Trials when their former leader, Impactor, was on trial, certain Autobot officials gave the Wreckers an option to testify in court in person, or sign a document acknowledging what had occurred at Pova. (Impactor had executed captive Decepticons on a planet where they weren’t supposed to be fighting on.) The Wreckers, most of them being poor Nyonians who mostly spoke Primal Vernacular instead of Neocybex, didn’t want to testify in person for various reasons and decided to sign the documents. However, the documents all stated, in Neocybex, that the Wreckers unanimously agreed that Impactor was guilty of murder. Upon realizing the truth, the Wreckers were devastated that they had sentenced their beloved leader to imprisonment on Garrus-9. Despite being so horribly betrayed by the Autobots, it was nothing compared to the treachery the old Nyonian regime pulled when they wanted to arrest the rebels (who eventually became the Wreckers, after the Autobots helped them overthrow the regime.) What disturbed Pharma the most about this incident was the fact that the well-known, unofficial Wreckers historian, Fisitron never translated it to Neocybex. Pharma thought about mentioning it to First Aid, but figured that it was better not to talk about it because he found First Aid annoying and didn’t deserve to have these Datalogs translated.

    While Tyrest was present at the trials, this incident occurred around the same time that he had stepped down as judge and was replaced by the supercomputer, Aequitas, upon Prowl’s insistence. Tyrest had agreed because the trials were triggering to him and he felt the stress was affecting his judgment. However, Tyrest came to regret this decision for prioritizing his own health over justice, and allowing Aequitas to do his job for him, which he saw as “laziness” on his part.

    Although Tyrest himself was the one who had originally drawn the blueprints to Aequitas and showed them to his peers (Prowl, Xaaron, and Nightbeat), he was still suspicious of the invention. He was aware that Prowl had privately hired a scientist to recreate it, and that the scientist made his own modifications to it. But this wasn’t what bothered him. To put it simply; Tyrest already had no faith in mechs or mechanity, how was anyone going to expect him to have faith in a non-sentient machine?

    Guilt itself came straight from the spark, brain-module, and t-cog. The spark is pained by remorse, the brain-module knows the mech has done wrong which worsens the remorse, and the t-cog – well, a liar has a strong compulsion to transform. Aequitas, of course, detected such physiological changes and comparing them to the evidence, determined the presence of guilt. But it still didn’t explain certain outcomes.

    Impactor, former leader of the Wreckers, was found guilty by Aequitas, yet Impactor didn’t flinch when Aequitas analyzed him. A truly guilty mech would writhe in pain and smoke would come out of his mouth and ears. Impactor was also smoke-free and made it clear, multiple times, that he had no regret executing Decepticons at Pova. He stated that if given a chance to redo the confrontation, he’d “do it again. But this time, with extra carnage to send Decepticons a message; that the Wreckers will wreck their lives and rule over their toppled empire.”

    It seemed that both Tyrest’s and Pharma’s thoughts had gotten in sync, that Tyrest didn’t think twice when Pharma said, “Kind of messed up that the Wreckers were forced to sign papers in Neocybex instead of in Primal Vernacular.”

    “Tell me about it,” replied Tyrest. “I had specifically written a more simplified version of those forms in Primal Vernacular for them to sign. Somehow, these forms were ‘lost’ on their way to Nyon. Due to the urgency of the case and the fact that the internet is extremely slow in Nyon due to radiation, the Autobot officials were unable to print out new copies of the translated forms.” Tyrest glanced at the form Pharma was reading and added, “Please feel free to ask me questions, if the wording confuses you. The legislators’ dialect can get a bit wordy and excessively formal. Most mechs have trouble reading them. I would hate for you to legally consent to something that you don’t understand.”

    “Oh, I understand this just fine,” said Pharma. “The other papers were about my personal information, and this one is about respecting patient privacy.”

    “Good,” said Tyrest. “As for the Wreckers, does it bother you that the Autobots treated one of their most elite teams of soldiers in this unjust matter?”

    “Yes, but Decepticons aren’t any better,” replied Pharma. “They target innocent civilians, like my people in Stanix who are now Decepticon out of fear. And I’ve heard of what Decepticons did to Praxus too – kill so many innocents to emotionally incapacitate the Autobots’ chief strategist, Prowl. Tricking the ignorant for a single scapegoat, pales in comparison to these horrific crimes.” Pharma went to the next page in his form and initialed. “Impactor did nothing wrong, especially since one of the mechs he killed nearly killed him in the past and obviously failed.”

    Tyrest narrowed his eyes, wondering if Xaaron had bombarded Pharma with Autobot propaganda. But this wasn’t the case. Xaaron was mostly concerned with trying to defeat the terrorcons and that’s what he talked about. He was also complaining about his illness, among other things. Not once, did he talk about how good and noble the Autobot faction was.

    “The emirate told us that someone he knew since childhood was tried at Aequitas and was acquitted,” said Pharma, “But the emirate is convinced that Aequitas had made a mistake. He described him as a mech who wouldn’t hesitate to dabble in necromancy to exploit the undead as slave labor, instead of paying local living workers. Nightbeat was trying to figure out who the emirate was referring to, but the emirate refused to elaborate. The emirate was so offended, but then it’s his fault for mentioning this person.”

    “So you’re saying that my friend, Xaaron, believes that a mech can be so shameless that they’re incapable of feeling guilt?” asked Tyrest.

    “Yeah,” nodded Pharma.

    “I knew it!” growled Tyrest. “The Aequitas Trials were a sham! And Aequitas itself was probably rigged. No wonder Prowl was so insistent that I step down ‘for my own good’. Autobot High Command was probably annoyed that I was convicting mechs they felt were needed to advance the Autobot Cause. How bold of them to use my own suffering against me to further their pointless war.”

    Nervously, Pharma quickly went back to reviewing the forms. He had several left but paused to drink some cool spring water from his brand-new water bottle.

    As Pharma was catching up on paperwork, Xaaron, Nightbeat, Galaxy Shuttle, and the Brainmasters were in the chapel studying the Book of Solus Prime, in the Covenant of Primus. As they read, Nightbeat’s gaze went towards the chapel’s altar, where a large key hung as the centerpiece. Intrigued that the key’s design was like the designs he had seen in the Codex of Sorrow, he asked out loud, “What is that artifact on the altar?”

    “That’s the Key to Vector Sigma, the Omega Key,” said Star Saber, “We unlocked the entrance with it the last time.”

    “Where did you find the key?” asked Nightbeat.

    Realizing that his mentee’s curiosity was redirected to the key instead of figuring out how to recreate the weapon described in the Solus Prime book, Xaaron said, “Tyrest gave it to us. He said his conjunx, Nova, gave it to him as an anniversary present. Apparently, he had come home late that day and Tyrest was worried sick because Nova didn’t call to tell him where he was.”

    “Does Tyrest know where Nova got it?” asked Nightbeat. Seeing that his mentor didn’t have an answer to his question, Nightbeat added, “I’ll go ask him myself.”

    “He’s busy with paperwork!” snapped Xaaron, as Nightbeat placed a bookmark on his Covenant of Primus, and closed it, before tucking it back into his subspace.

    While Nightbeat was getting up, Braver tried to stop him, but Xaaron grabbed Braver by the arm. “It’s no use. Once Nightbeat discovers a mystery, he’s on its trail trying to solve it.”

    “That’s an awfully good question, I’ll give him that,” interrupted Star Saber. Waiting until Nightbeat was gone he added, “There’s a lot of things that never quite made sense to me about Nova. Some resolved themselves – like when I first met Tyrest and he asked me to teach him religion. Nova was a Prime and it was quite concerning that his conjunx and Primal Consort, would be ignorant of our faith. Turns out Tyrest just wanted to study theology but due to the language barrier, the legislator priests were unable to teach him. The second, of course, was the key. Why would he keep such a sacred relic in his house instead of safeguarding it in the Primal Basilica or in the Kalisian Cathedral? I hope Nightbeat finds the answer to clear this up.”

    “Yes, and its design is clearly from the Sea of Rust,” said Xaaron. “I wouldn’t blame a religious layman, like my friend, to mistake it for a random ornament.” 

    Nightbeat was in such a hurry to leave, that he forgot to take the teleporter that Xaaron let him borrow. When he remembered, he was too embarrassed to go back for it. Instead, he transformed and drove all the way to Tyrest’s office which was on the other side of the villa. When he finally arrived, he knocked on the door.

    To his surprise, Tyrest answered the door but didn’t look like he was happy to see him. In fact, his menacing aura shook Nightbeat that he almost felt compelled to transform back into a car and drive back to the chapel. However, the need to ask the important questions, is what convinced Nightbeat to stay.

Chapter Text

    Nightbeat took a couple of steps back. He wanted to look at the chief justice in the eye, but standing so close to a tall, leader-class mech, Nightbeat was unable to see Tyrest’s face which was blocked by his ample avian bosom. Taking a deep breath, Nightbeat said, “I need to ask you about the Omega Key.”

    “Ask away, but on one condition,” replied Tyrest. “You tell me everything you know about the Aequitas Trials.”

    Not thinking twice, Nightbeat smiled and said, “Deal.”

    Tyrest let Nightbeat inside, though he still appeared annoyed. Once the door closed, Tyrest asked, “What exactly did you want to know about the Omega Key? How my conjunx acquired it?”

    “Yes,” said Nightbeat.

    “I don’t know,” replied Tyrest. “I just remember that he gave it to me as a gift. Even though Nova went out a lot, he usually called to let me know if he was going to be late. That particular day, he did not. What concerned me the most were his companions; a warlord and his harem, and a very shady scientist. They were clearly the types who’d go on dangerous adventures and enable him to do so. I feared the worst, yet my spark insisted he was still alive. This proved to be true. It was past midnight and I suddenly woke up from bed. I was compelled to look out of my bedroom window. Since it was dark, I lowered my visor and saw him at a distance, emerging from underneath the gazebo. He was carrying something large that looked like a violin case. It was dark, so I couldn’t really tell what was going on.” 

    “Wait, you have have a visor?” asked Nightbeat, excitedly.

    “I don’t know anymore,” replied Tyrest, as he pointed at his forehead. “I can’t retract it after this head injury.”

    Nightbeat frowned.

    Tyrest continued, “It was a good thing that it was still functional back then, or else I’d have activated the alarm. It would’ve been terrible for the guards to swarm around him and attack him relentlessly after whatever his adventure was. And yes, I observed him carefully moving along the shadows to avoid being spotted by the guards. I admit this felt very wrong. This is his home and he shouldn’t have done that. Since the villa was large, I decided to read the stars, so they could tell me where he was headed.”

    “The stars?” asked Nightbeat. “Really?”

    Tyrest sighed at Nightbeat’s incredulity and continued, “The stars informed me that rather than enter from the southern wing, where I had seen him, he was going to enter from the west. And that's where I knew where to confront him. Some legislators had spotted me and followed, but they were tipped off when my knees popped. Nova seemed very upset when I suddenly spoke to him as he was trying to hide behind a giant vase, but he quickly calmed down. I saw the Omega Key and asked him what it was. He told me it was a gift for our anniversary but the surprise was ruined. He handed it over to me reluctantly and then I felt awful for ruining his surprise.”

    “You need to show me the gazebo whenever you get the chance,” said Nightbeat. “I’d love to tell you about the Aequitas Trials, but I recalled that we weren’t supposed to discuss it in front of others until the war is over. This ‘ceasefire’ doesn’t mean it’s officially over.”

    “We can discuss the trials, but we can’t make the information public,” replied Tyrest. “Since we’re at home, this is private. Hold on.” Tyrest got his tablet and opened one of the forms. He duplicated it and edited the copy to mention “Tyrest Accord privacy” instead of “patient privacy”. Nightbeat watched him work and narrowed his eyes as Tyrest printed the form and made Pharma sign it too. “Okay, you can speak, since Pharma has agreed to keep silent.”

    Nightbeat rubbed his own chin pensively. Pharma was clearly a psittacine mech in nature. (This was Nightbeat’s first impression of him.) “No offense, but this one always has to run his mouth. You could tell him to keep a secret, and we will, for a time. But then, if he forgets, he reveals it unintentionally.”

    Before Pharma was able to get up and intimidate Nightbeat, Tyrest placed his hand on Pharma’s vent, which almost instantly cooled Pharma off. Thinking quickly, Tyrest said, “I understand you’re concerned about privacy. In this case, we’ll talk about the trials in another time. And I’ll tell you exactly which gazebo it was because there’s three in that garden and all could be seen from my bedroom window.”

    Nightbeat nodded and left the room. As soon as Nightbeat was out of the hallway, Tyrest said to Pharma, “Nightbeat is Ultra Magnus’ nosy cousin. My friend has told me that he won’t stop until he solves the case. I can already tell he’s going to look for that gazebo on his own. Unfortunately, for him, the legislators are fumigating the gardens there because some of the plants need fungal treatment. Nightbeat will have no choice but to wait to speak to me this afternoon, before resuming his search.”

    “What kind of fungus?” asked Pharma.

    “I don’t know,” said Tyrest. “It’s a nasty fungus that has been growing in that spot for years. All the plants that get planted there don’t live long. I can’t just have that area paved over, because then the heat bounces off the ground and heats everything up. The summers are getting hotter, so this certainly won’t help.”

    “Can I go see?” asked Pharma.

    “The air is bad over there!” snapped Tyrest, who immediately remembered the HEPA Jet’s immunity to poisonous substances. “I mean, you can, but make sure you grab a gas mask and clean out your filters, before and after.”

    “Alright,” said Pharma, who continued reading the paperwork. Without looking up Pharma said, “Nightbeat confuses me. He said he was looking for Adaptica, and now wanted to know about the Omega Key?”

    “I assure you they’re related,” said Tyrest. “Vector Sigma was attended to by The Conclave’s High Priests. The Conclave was the ancient ruling class in the Sea of Rust. They lived in their own settlement named ‘Adaptica’. This made Adaptica and Vector Sigma geographically close to one another, until Adaptica ascended into the heavens to never be seen again.”

    Pharma’s eyes widened.

    Seeing Pharma’s confusion, Tyrest continued, “In those times, the Quintessons were attacking Cybertron, and in order to protect Vector Sigma, the city-guardians who protected the Sea of Rust buried it underneath the sands. As for The Conclave, they activated an emergency switch that sent their entire settlement sky-borne. They disappeared and no one knew where they ended up at. It was quite tragic because The Conclave were benevolent rulers to my people. Commoners lived among them too and even married them, in some cases. So many families were torn apart by this decision. Even though it happened eons ago, my spark weeps for them.”

    “Interesting,” replied Pharma. “You know a lot about Adaptica, is there a reason you’re not at their meetings to discuss it?” 

    “Yes,” replied Tyrest coldly. “I don’t understand their interest in finding out its history. None of them are from the Sea of Rust, so they have no cultural ties to it. It makes no sense.”

    “Xaaron and the priests were interested in the religious aspects of it,” said Pharma. “I know Xaaron worships Adaptus and Primus. The others are priests, so that’s self-explanatory. Through Vector Sigma, we’re all granted life. And finding out about it, might help us, Cybertronians as a whole, to understand more about ourselves. We all have ties to it, even if they're not Rustic like yours.”

    “Yes, but they’re all preoccupied with finding ruins ,” said Tyrest. “Adaptica was a community, which is made up of people. These people might be long dead, but their descendants are alive and this is what's most important to me.”

    Before Pharma had a chance to reply, there was a knock on the door. Ten, who was also holding a very large reusable pizza box, opened the door and entered.

    “I thought when you said you’re bringing a snack, you were going to bring some sliced fruit,” replied Tyrest, as he pulled out his phone to re-read Ten’s text.

    “Ten,” replied Ten. As far as he knew, his parents considered pizza as a snack because they never saw it as a “proper food” like a sandwich. 

    Tyrest pulled out a folding table from out of the wall panels and set it up. While Pharma found a suitable stopping point in his paperwork. 

    Ten placed the pizza box on the folding table, and opened it. It was, more or less, an attempt at traditional Iaconian pizza, which Tyrest enjoyed. The traditional pizza consisted of thin toasted flatbread, seasoned tomato sauce, thin slices of pepperoni, soft white cheese, and green leaves for garnish. The pizza Ten had brought had other spices (including honey mixed into the dough) and similar leaves.

    Pharma and Tyrest moved the chairs over from the desk to the folding table. Ten pulled out a paper towel roll from his subspace and a head of lettuce. He sat next to Pharma, as Tyrest went behind his desk and opened his personal mini-fridge. Without looking up, he asked them, “Do you like Phantom Soda or Peppy Soda?”

    “Ten!” said Ten, as Tyrest handed him a Phantom Soda.

    “Peppy,” said Pharma. Tyrest got him a Peppy.

    As for Tyrest, he got himself one orange juice box, that they served the young legislators at school. He opened it and took a sip. Pharma opened his Peppy Soda and said to Tyrest softly, “I’m surprised you like pizza, seeing that it’s Iaconian food.”

    “There is nothing wrong with Iaconian food, except that their desserts are often too sweet,” replied Tyrest. “And they use too much olive oil. Change all that, and it’s perfect.”

    “Don’t they make pizza in Tarn too?” asked Pharma.

    “Yes, but their pizza is the polar opposite of Iaconian pizza,” said Tyrest. “Iaconian pizza is crispy and humble, as it should be. Tarnian pizza is an overindulgent excess of cheese and sauce that’s barely contained in the pie. It’s so thick that I can’t imagine it being thoroughly cooked in the middle. Then again, Tarnians look like the type of mechs who won't hesitate to eat under-cooked food because they can't be bothered with heating it up anything properly. I went there a couple of times in the past, it was too cold, too dark, and damp in a disgusting way. No proper heating and nobody cared. Iacon, with its flaws, is better and more welcoming.”

    They continued to dine and chat.

Chapter Text

    Nightbeat had returned to the chapel, only to find out that it was closed and everyone had left. He called Xaaron, who had told him that they went to the dining room for a lunch break. Nightbeat finally arrived at the dining room, where the Brainmasters, Galaxy Shuttle, and Xaaron were enjoying some homemade pizzas. 

    “What do you think of this ‘Iaconian-style’ pizza?” asked Galaxy Shuttle.

    “It’s acceptable, but nowhere close to the real deal,” said Xaaron. “True Iaconian pizza gets straight to the point and makes you feel like you’re at home. This pizza makes me feel like I’m at a foreign four-star hotel. While it’s nice, it doesn’t compare to the proper comfort of home.”

    Nightbeat grabbed a slice and ate it, before saying, “Tyrest knows more about Adaptica than he’s willing to tell us.”

    “Of course he knows,” replied Xaaron. “Vector Sigma and Adaptica were both located in the Sea of Rust and Tyrest is very passionate about his Rustic heritage.”

    “So, you’re saying he has a hate-boner for archaeology and has been passive aggressive about us looking for it the entire time?” asked Nightbeat.

    “He loves archaeology,” said Xaaron, “what he hates is the de-mechanization that it sometimes has. I remember reading some old books about Vector Sigma at the Iacon Library, and the authors made it seem like the Rustic culture around Vector Sigma was from a distant, bygone era. Their culture is anything but bygone; it’s alive and thriving in this modern age.”

    “The books we read where like that too,” replied Braver. “Makes me wonder about how the other ‘lost’ colonies like Crystal City and Caminus are viewed as.”

    “Their disappearances have happened recently,” replied Nightbeat. “I think the historians just wrote you all off as ‘perished’. I helped myself and read some documents regarding Deadlock – I mean, ‘Drift’, while he was detained here on Luna-1. Most of them said that his claim of recovering and regaining his spirituality in ‘New Crystal City’ was a load of scrap that he made up. The only documentation I found that treated Drift’s statements as truth was what the chief justice wrote.”

    “Why was Drift being ‘detained’?” asked Star Saber.

    “He’s a dangerous ex-Decepticon with a bounty on his head,” replied Nightbeat. “He disappeared for two solar cycles after an attempt to mutiny against his superior, Turmoil. When he came back, he was saying that he found Primus thanks to some nice mechs from New Crystal City. He had a complete frame upgrade and was carrying; due to give birth.” Nightbeat proceeded to nonchalantly detail Drift’s past crimes.

    “If Dai Atlas had known this about Drift,” said Blacker, “he would’ve personally stabbed him in the spark and told him, ‘Primus hates you’.”

    “No, he wouldn’t,” replied Star Saber. “Dai Atlas is too much of a coward.” He grabbed three more pizza slices and continued to eat, as Xaaron side-eyed him. After swallowing, Star Saber said, “You know, Dai Atlas would get extremely pissed if I were to disclose New Crystal City’s location…”

    “That would endanger the colony!” said Galaxy Shuttle.

    “Only if we give the coordinates to bad mechs who’re going to mess everything up,” replied Star Saber smugly. “Not sure if things have changed, but when I had left, the food shortage was getting worse because the increased number of earthquakes made it difficult to mine energon. Nightbeat, you told me you were Ultra Magnus’ cousin. Since Magnus is apparently on-board a massive ship capable of safely transporting an entire colony like New Crystal City, it wouldn’t hurt to inform him.”

    “Shouldn’t we tell the chief justice first?” asked Laster.

    “No,” replied Xaaron. “He’s preoccupied with many thoughts. Besides, his enforcers are required to assist any endangered civilians they ‘randomly’ come across. If Ultra Magnus ‘stumbled upon’ them, then he’s simply following orders. Ultra Magnus a good, hard-working, noble mech who’d make sure everyone is relocated safely.”

    “When you put it that way, this sounds good,” replied Galaxy Shuttle. “Our people will be safe, and Dai Atlas will be grumbled because he has no choice but to accept Ultra Magnus’ aid.”

    Pulling out his phone, Nightbeat asked, “What are the coordinates?”

    Without hesitation, Star Saber and Galaxy Shuttle gave away Theophany’s (the name of the planet where the colony was located) and New Crystal City’s location itself to Nightbeat. Nightbeat texted his cousin, sent him an email, and finally messaged him on FaceBot. He hoped that at least one of the messages would reach Ultra Magnus. Nightbeat then looked through FaceBot, which he hadn’t visited in a while because he was too busy looking for clues.

    Magnus wasn’t actively posting, which was normal for him, but his young conjunx, Rodimus, was. Nightbeat followed Rodimus on FaceBot too. Besides the memes Rodimus posted, his recent photos showed both himself and Magnus on board the same ship. Shrugging, Nightbeat sent Rodimus a message too. Without warning, the in-coming call sound from the FaceBot messaging app came on and Nightbeat had no choice but to answer it in front of everyone.

    “Hey,” said Rodimus. “Who gave you these coordinates?”

    “A group of New Crystal City priests who call themselves ‘The Brainmasters’,” replied Nightbeat as he noticed that Xaaron had approached him to look at his phone screen.

    “That sounds familiar,” said Rodimus, who immediately started a conference call with Drift and was waiting for him to answer.

    After some delay, Drift said, “Low?”

    “Drift, are these coordinates legit?” replied Rodimus clearly as he forwarded the message to Drift.

    There was a few seconds of silence before Drift replied, “Yeh.”

    “Have you heard of mechs who call themselves ‘Brain Masters’?” asked Rodimus.

    “Wuh,” said Drift, with his voice fading out, “…Circle of Light.”

    Realizing that the others couldn’t hear Drift because he was too far away and the fact that he was subconsciously channeling the Matrix to get quality reception, Rodimus said, “Okay, it checks out. Thank you Drift.” Rodimus waited for Drift to hang up and added, “The good news is that if we went there, the small detour wouldn’t affect our travel plans at all. The bad news is that we won’t get there until several weeks from now. I’m sure the colony can hold its ground for a bit longer.”

    “As long as you’re able to evacuate everyone,” said Nightbeat. He turned to Xaaron, who chose not to say anything to Rodimus. Then Nightbeat said, “Take care, and say ‘Hi’ to Magnus for me.”

    “Bye!” said Rodimus, as he ended the call.

    “It’s just that when I talk to Rodimus, our conversations are quite long and I don’t want for poor Rodimus to get stuck with an expensive intergalactic phone call bill,” replied Xaaron.

    “Rodimus uses the Tyrest Accord Phone Service because of Magnus,” replied Nightbeat.

    “The calls are still expensive even if they’re actually ‘cheaper’,” replied Xaaron.

    After their break, they all returned to the chapel to study. Nightbeat was trying his best to remember the events of Aequitas and immediately felt his spark start racing. He had forgotten how awful the evidence against the defendants on the Aequitas Trials were. Finally calming his nerves, he wrote down what he could remember and made his way towards Tyrest’s quarters, only to be informed that Tyrest wasn’t there but was at his private root garden, which was located inside the villa, instead. 

    Tyrest was pruning a bush in the garden, when he saw Nightbeat arrive. He, of course, had forgotten about his deal with Nightbeat. 

    “I’m here to tell you about Aequitas, though I assumed you wanted us to meet somewhere more private,” said Nightbeat.

    “Here is fine,” said Tyrest calmly, despite feeling an internal panic for forgetting. “There’s no one else here, but you, me, and my carrier.”

    Nightbeat’s eyes widened, at least that solved the mystery of who was buried in the Root Garden’s grave. Despite burying deceased relatives in the family gardens being a typical custom in the Sea of Rust, Nightbeat found it very creepy. Nightbeat searched through his subspace and handed Tyrest the notebook where he wrote everything down.

    Unfortunately, Nightbeat didn’t take into consideration that Tyrest was a fast reader, and finished reading through the notebook right in front of Nightbeat’s eyes.

    “I’m disturbed over how involved Prowl was in all of this,” replied Tyrest. “Are you sure that Prowl was doing all of this? I know a lot of mechs despise him and are quick to accuse him in matters that are considered ‘shady’, which is basically the entire war.”

    “I was right there with him when these things were happening,” replied Nightbeat, who quickly tried to control the urge to tuck his head in and transform to roll out, away from Tyrest. 

    “And Xaaron?” asked Tyrest.

    “He was very involved until Impactor pleaded guilty,” said Nightbeat. “Then he left, remember?”

    “I don’t because I wasn’t there anymore after Prowl convinced me to step down,” said Tyrest. “I assumed Xaaron continued with his involvement, especially since he believes so strongly in the Autobot Cause. I can understand him wanting to leave, it was due to heartbreak over Impactor. Although, I'm not sure if it’s because of his sentence or the fact that Impactor admitted his ‘guilt’, even though he felt none.”

    There was an uncomfortable silence in the room before Nightbeat uttered, “Oof.”

Chapter Text

    Xaaron was in his room, accompanied by Pharma and Ten. Ten had brought his sketchbook and was working on a drawing of Ultra Magnus, while Xaaron was looking through one of his trunks.

    Pointing at Ten’s drawing, Pharma said,  “I saw him in person.”

    “Me too,” replied Ten. “Everyone gets scared of him, but he is very nice. He wouldn’t hurt anyone without a reason. I want to be his deputy and travel the galaxies alongside him while we bring justice to the Tyrest Accord violators.”

    “Are you sure you’d even get hired?” scoffed Xaaron.

    “Yes,” said Ten. “My dam will see that I am more than qualified. I’ve passed many of his challenges, so far. All I have left is to receive my bachelor’s degree in a major of my choice, I’ve chosen illustration.”

    “My friend has told me that in your first semester of uni, you and your two brothers went to study abroad at Tyrest University,” said Xaaron. “Unlike your brothers, you became very homesick because you missed your three  parents – your sire, your carrier, and your dam. It got to the point to where any one of them had to visit you three times a week, so you could at least finish your semester in peace. Uni was closer to home than wherever Ultra Magnus has to travel.”

     Ten had stopped drawing and angrily glared at Xaaron. However, Xaaron was unbothered by Ten’s sudden menacing aura. Scoffing, Xaaron said, “You’re making that same cute grumpy expression your dam makes when he’s mad. Cut it out and face the facts; being a deputy isn’t for you.”

    Pharma was shocked over Xaaron’s bold bluntness.

    “First my parents, and now you ?” asked Ten indignantly.

    “Unlike your dam, I’m not afraid of telling you the truth,” said Xaaron. “Right now, I’m baffled as to why you can’t take a hint that nobody wants you to work as a deputy because it’s dangerous. Even Ultra Magnus himself was nearly killed on the job. The only reason he survived was because his spark chamber, t-cog, and brain module were miraculously intact. The rest of his body was literally small pieces of metal and he had to be given a completely new body. And this was just a ‘loyal employee’. Imagine if this happens to you, your poor dam would probably not live to rebuild you because of the shock. First, he witnessed his carrier die violently and now his own son is in a similar grave state. Hey! Where are you going? Come back here!”

    Ten got up and stormed out of the room. Rolling his eyes, Xaaron turned to Pharma, “Can you believe this child ?”

    “How did you not get scared of him?!” cried Pharma. “He looked like he was going to rip your head off.”

    “Ten is harmless,” replied Xaaron, “just like my friend. No wonder people think my friend birthed him.  They’re so alike in so many ways – all the more reason Ten should never become a deputy. He is a gentle spark, like my friend. Seeing such horrific crimes that enforcers and their deputies encounter would destroy his innocence and trust in mechanity.”

    Pharma’s eyes widened and he immediately felt regret and embarrassment for even thinking that Tyrest and Ten were biologically related. It was his very first impression of them. “Yeah…it would be pretty terrible for Ten to internalize all that. I definitely wouldn’t want him to start puncturing his carapace for ‘stress relief’.”

    Without warning, Xaaron jumped up and grabbed Pharma by the collar and pulled him down to eye-level. Pharma went pale because he underestimated Xaaron’s strength and saw him as weak for being very disabled. (However, Xaaron is a tank and tanks are naturally quite strong, even the small ones, because of their heavy carapace.) Calmly, Xaaron said, “Tell me, why do you think Ten would consider something like, self-harm? I’m curious.”

    After a brief awkward pause, Pharma replied, “Because I saw the chief justice wash his hands yesterday. His hands were dirtied with dried blood and those…perforations. Their diameter is roughly the size of his finger width.”

    Xaaron let go of Pharma and muttered, “I knew it. I just…never assumed he’d actually do anything like that.”

    “Wait, so you knew but have been in denial about it?” asked Pharma, almost indignantly.

    “Of course not!” replied Xaaron, quickly making direct eye-contact with Pharma. Pharma couldn't help but flinch, thinking that Xaaron was going to grab him again. “It’s the first thing I noticed when I arrived here a few weeks ago. This is a difficult situation for me. As much as I want to confront him, I don’t want him to take this the wrong way and push me away. He is delicate.  It’s clear that the Aequitas Trials traumatized him, but I didn’t imagine it was this much . I regret not being able to check up on him sooner. Otherwise, I’d have done more to prevent this.” Xaaron moved quickly and actually grabbed Pharma again. “But you…Reincarnation of Adaptus…perhaps you could cure him.”

    Pharma covered his face and cried, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to use my powers. I didn’t even know I had powers!”

    “It appears you need training,” said Xaaron as he let go of Pharma. “I'll see if there's anything I can do to help you. Even though I think Star Saber would be a much better instructor, because he's able to channel his energy to teleport long distances. He learned this ability. Just like I’m sure you can learn to channel your powers and use them to heal others, like my friend. After all, you accidentally resurrected people who were long dead. Imagine what you could do for regular living people.” Xaaron pulled out a book from his subspace and handed it to Pharma. It was an old religious manuscript titled “Southeastern Cistern Codex”.

    Pulling out his phone, Xaaron logged in to Tyrest University’s massive online library, which housed digital copies of books, and looked up that same manuscript. It talked about the Reincarnations of the Guiding Hand in nearly precise detail. Xaaron skipped to the part where it talked about Adaptus’ HEPA Jet. Before Xaaron began to explain, he quickly read over the manuscript just to be sure how he was going to explain it to Pharma, someone without much religious knowledge. As Xaaron read over the text, Pharma was surprised how accessible the manuscript was. (But then again, the scholars who worked on behalf of Tyrest University, had striven their best to make such important reading material freely available to the general public.) As Xaaron was preparing, Pharma searched the Southeastern Cistern Codex, to get an idea of what it was about.

    The manuscript was written before the rise of Functionism and Cybertron’s Golden Age. Its author is anonymous, but it’s heavily implied that he was a clergymech who worked in the Primal Basilica. The codex itself was created as a labor of love – in its words, the author makes his devotion to the Guiding Hand very clear. As with all sacred texts, it was copied after completion with the original sent to the Library of Iacon (better known as the “Hall of Records”), while the copy remained in the Basilica, where the clergymechs studied from it.

    Despite the author’s innocent intentions, the work was polarizing since it single-handedly disproved Functionism, which had existed around the same time period as the author. However, it was only a small radical sect  in those days, which the author had condemned as heretical multiple times. According  to the author, it was Adaptus’ will for Cybertronians to be gifted the ability to change themselves for survival. In other words, their original form did not dictate their function because circumstances can change and their original purpose and/or form would doom them if they didn’t adapt. Unfortunately, the manuscript’s existence was uncommon knowledge and did little to stop Functionism. In fact, it was nearly forgotten until the Functionists rose to political power. That was when some clergymechs started using as justification for their opposition.

    However, since the manuscript was still largely unknown, the Functionists were quick to seize the Primal Basilica’s copy and destroyed it. They immediately went to the Hall of Records, only to discover that the original was already gone – presumably lost forever. But that wasn’t the case. Right before the Functionists seized power, a general (who happened to be a tank) personally went to the Hall of Records and stole the manuscript. As a tank, the general was well-versed in warfare, but in his heart, he had wanted to become a monk. The conflict between his purpose and the calling he felt deep in his spark, compelled him to take the manuscript for safe-keeping, and it was with his family ever since.

    At that moment, Pharma looked at the manuscript Xaaron had handed to him. The book was very old, despite it being re-bound.

    “Excuse me, emirate,” said Pharma. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but is this the original codex?”

    Xaaron chuckled, “Of course, my great-great grandfather took it. I grew up reading it, and I’m glad I did because I can assure you it strengthened my faith. And yes, this digital copy I’m looking up is straight out of this original that I lent to the researchers. Except, I was allowed to keep the original; the chief justice insisted. The researchers and some archivists actually made three physical copies of it. One is on display at the Hall of Records, another is on display at the Kalisian Museum of Rustic Antiquities and Art, in Kalis, and finally, one is back at the Primal Basilica.”

    “Why is this called the Southeastern Cistern Codex?” Asked Pharma, “What I found online about it didn’t explain its name.”

    “It’s called like that because a certain Functionist said he was going to ‘flush this accursed book down the toilet’,” replied Xaaron. “More conclusive evidence that Functionism was just a vile heresy, and more reason for them to personally offend you.”

    Once everything was settled, Xaaron began to read the excerpt from codex out loud to Pharma. (Because Xaaron loved to read out loud.) According to the manuscript, the HEPA Jet hailed from The Sea of Rust and his purpose was to serve Cybertron as a healer. He had the capability to heal by placing his hands on the sick and corrupted, granting them temporary immunity while maxing out their HP. The HEPA Jet channeled Adaptus’ grace directly from his spark, like the other Reincarnations. When he channeled this grace, he completely submitted to Adaptus’ becoming his avatar. At this moment, his power increased by a hundredfold and this was seen with his sudden color change – which made the HEPA Jet denim blue and copper, Adaptus’ signature color palette.

    “I don’t know of any family from the Sea of Rust,” replied Pharma. “We’ve been Stanixians for generations.”

    “I can assure you that you had at least one ancestor from there,” said Xaaron. “Our gods thrive on technicalities. It’s like Rodimus Prime. Sure he’s ‘Nyonian’, but his blood and ethnicity are clearly Iaconian. You do look slightly Rustic, but so do a lot of other mechs not necessarily from there. So it’s logical to conclude that Vector Sigma chose you, specifically, because of your 'distant' Rustic genes.”

    Pharma read the codex and followed along as Xaaron began to explain the very complicated, supernatural method that Star Saber used to channel his energy. Fortunately, for Pharma, his inborn divine nature made it easy to understand whatever Xaaron was trying to teach. Obviously, Xaaron had to perform a demonstration. This was difficult for Xaaron because, as far as he was concerned, he only channeled divinity once and that was at Vector Sigma, when Primus chose him as his Avatar and he didn’t do anything. (The other time was during the t-cog surgery but Xaaron was unaware of this occurring.)

    Xaaron used all his strength to concentrate his powers as he had stated. In an instant, everything went black. Before Pharma, stood Xaaron whose plating had become completely golden and highly reflective. Channeling Primus and accidentally giving him full-control, Xaaron said, “See? It’s a bit tricky but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. You need to be careful, because you must concentrate a lot, not completely…unless you’re like the emirate, whose faith is so strong that he trusts me entirely. Now, it’s your turn…” Primus allowed Xaaron to regain control. 

    Concerned, Pharma concentrated but as Primus suggested, gave partial control. Unlike Xaaron, Pharma didn’t lose consciousness and became denim blue as Adaptus was. Pharma looked at his recolored arms and gasped, “Holy shi…”

    “Pharma!” cried Xaaron.

Chapter Text

    Meanwhile, Ten ran back to Tyrest’s chamber, closed the door, and threw himself on the bed before finally crying. Moments later, he heard a gentle knock on the door, before it opened. The door opened so fast that Ten didn’t even have a chance to dry his tears. Tyrest entered the room, closing the door. After setting his staff aside, he knelt next to Ten and asked, “What happened?”

    Ten frowned and cried louder, he was more surprised about Tyrest’s sudden arrival. It was then that Ten realized what had  occurred – he accidentally switched on his filial frequency, a line of radio communication between a sparkling and their guardians, and called out to Tyrest in despair. Although the use of this radio frequency is most common in early childhood, it occasionally is used later in life but often in times of great distress. Ten didn’t even need to open his eyes to see that Tyrest would die of heartbreak if he was horribly injured on the job. Tyrest was visibly concerned about Ten’s current state and held on to him. 

    After calming down a bit, Ten whispered, “I don’t want to be a Tyrest Accord Deputy anymore.”

    Tyrest’s eyes widened and asked, “What has made you change your mind?” He gently petted his son and started cooing.

    “Uncle Xaaron said I wasn’t good enough to be a Tyrest Accord Deputy because I’d get homesick,” said Ten. “He also said that you would die if you saw me get torn apart like what happened to Ultra Magnus. I don’t want you to die, I still need you.”

    Tyrest stopped petting Ten. Ten immediately noticed and opened his eyes, only to see that Tyrest was silently weeping too. Taking a deep breath, Tyrest replied, “He is right. I should’ve been straightforward, but I cannot stand to see you cry and know you would’ve been upset if I outright rejected your request. You are my son and it’s my duty to make you feel safe and happy. I have failed you here, like I have countless times before.”

    Ten remained silent. 

    Just then, Star Saber teleported into the room. Concerned about both Ten and Tyrest, Xaaron had texted Star Saber to go check on them. Both were frightened by Star Saber. 

    “Ten!” cried Ten.

    Too shocked to turn away, Tyrest looked at Star Saber and also remained silent but with his expressive gaze, he confessed everything. 

    “Are you upset at Ten?” asked Star Saber, to Tyrest.

    “Never,” replied Tyrest. “I feel terrible because I’ve been an awful parent to him. The last thing I want to do is hurt him…and still ended up doing it. I have failed him, and his parents, who have trusted me enough to care for him.”

    “You are far from awful,” replied Star Saber. “Otherwise, your son would not love you as deeply as he does.” 

    “Ten,” replied Ten. 

    “Let’s look out the window,” said Star Saber, who didn’t know how to comfort others besides hugging them but knew Tyrest didn’t appreciate suddenly getting grabbed.

    “Yes, the fresh air does wonders,” replied Tyrest. “The fungicide they sprayed in the garden has likely blown away by now.” He approached the window and stopped.

    Star Saber rushed over and saw Pharma walking towards the gazebo. Ten approached and spotted Pharma too. Ten waved at him, but Pharma hadn’t noticed he was being observed.

    Pharma had decided to step out and investigate the fungus himself, just as he told Tyrest. At this time, the gardeners had all returned home for the day. The fungicide’s scent was also diminished. As Pharma approached the gazebo, he smelled a familiar foul odor he hadn’t smelled in years. It was the scent of burnt living metal, which nearly caused him to puke. He felt his systems accelerate from the chills. Because he’s a flyer, Pharma didn’t need to get close to the gazebo to notice a familiar unnatural aura.

    Flipping on his visor, Pharma began to investigate. Zooming in on the plants that were growing around the gazebo, he noticed they were covered by a strange dark substance. Although it looked like a fungus, he could tell it wasn’t a fungus but some other type of living contaminant. Whatever it was, made him uncomfortable. Nervous, Pharma made an attempt to channel Adaptus, but he was so nervous that he had difficulty concentrating. He did feel like he wasn’t alone, as if Adaptus was right behind him, and that was enough to give him the courage to approach the gazebo.

    The channeling did help, because Pharma was better able to scan the contaminant in question. Although he still had no idea what it was called after searching through his personal database, he did confirm the  uncomfortable truth – the contaminant contained large amounts of dark energon. Pharma wondered if this was why he felt so averse to it; dark energon had always made him uncomfortable, but then holy energon had always flowed through Pharma’s veins and that was the exact opposite of dark energon.

    As Pharma contemplated his feelings – unsure if he was scared because of biology or trauma, two legislators suddenly burst out from under the ground and attacked him. The attack was so sudden and upsetting that Pharma allowed Adaptus to deal with it. Pharma’s body turned blue and dodged the legislators’ attacks. 

    Using Pharma’s visor, Adaptus tried to make sense of what was happening as he gracefully dodged the attacks. The legislators were nothing but rusted corpses, fueled by dark energon. Adaptus was both disappointed and angered at their remains’ disrespect. Realizing that he had no choice, Adaptus turned Pharma’s hand into a chainsaw and attempted to attack the legislators. 

    Unfortunately, Adaptus had no idea how to control the HEPA Jet. Pharma’s physiology was far different than the ancestral Cybertronians Adaptus had promised to send his reincarnation. The ancients ran on a complex system of naturally occurring pulleys and levers. Modern Cybertronians also ran on a complex system of naturally occurring pulleys and levers, as well as naturally occurring chips and circuitry. Sure Adaptus and Primus had programmed Vector Sigma to evolve Cybertronians into partially digital beings, but Adaptus himself never expected to return in the modern era because the Functionists had incensed him. 

    Quick to sense his struggle, Star Saber teleported to Pharma’s location and fought beside him. Star Saber couldn’t bear to watch Pharma’s terrible attempts to fight back and felt compelled to intervene. Seeing Star Saber fight back encouraged Pharma, who finally retracted his blasters and began to shoot at the legislators, as Adaptus observed. (The deity hadn’t noticed Pharma was equipped with firearms because he assumed Pharma was a civilian and civilians were traditionally unarmed individuals.)

    Once the legislators were at bay, Pharma channeled his powers and blasted the legislators with a blinding divine light. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the light, Star Saber, the legislators, and just about everyone within viewing distance were paralyzed. Star Saber felt his cheek, which had a profane sigil engraved into it, burn. 

    In that instant, Adaptus stopped time and looked at Pharma, who was unaffected. Pharma looked back at Adaptus, who had now copied Pharma’s appearance, except that he was blue. It was strange for Pharma to see the deity take on his form, and had no idea how to react. Nonchalantly, Adaptus said, “I hear the cries of my people, past and present. Unfortunately, we can’t save them alone. We would need Solomus’ help.”

    “You mean another duo like us?” asked Pharma.

    “Yes,” replied Adaptus. “But it won’t be easy. There’s a wedge between them due to ‘communication issues’. Unfortunately, we must help them first before attempting to purge the land of this darkness. They shouldn't be too difficult to track down, though. Solomus has always had a fondness for the people from the Sea of Rust.”

    “That sounds like Tyrest,” replied Pharma.

    “The Sea of Rust is both Tyrest and Kalis,” replied Adaptus, “but yes, the Reincarnation of Solomus should be somewhere in that area. Possibly in Tyrest. He’d be more difficult to find because Solomus doesn’t concern himself with appearances. He could look completely average.”

    Pharma smiled. He wanted to tell Adaptus that the chief justice was named Tyrest, like the city-state, but he wasn’t sure how Adaptus would react to being corrected.

    “The area here is mostly cleansed,” said Adaptus. “I think you can handle it from here.” 

    At that, Adaptus faded away as the light dissipated. The others unfroze and realizing that he regained his movement, Star Saber gave the legislators, who had fallen to their knees, a roundhouse kick, ripping off their heads easily. Star Saber’s eyes widened as he saw what he had done. For a moment, he thought he couldn’t keep his own strength under control. Pharma widened his eyes and looked at Star Saber.

    Star Saber laughed nervously, which did nothing to calm Pharma.

    “These mechs…” said Star Saber as he watched Pharma pick up their heads and place them back on their necks. At least Pharma tried to, because the severed heads kept trying to roll off their shoulders.

    “I know, but there’s nothing we can do,” replied Pharma. “Adaptus has informed that these are long-dead mummies, but at least they are one with the Allspark now. Wait a minute, you’re a priest. Give these mechs their last rites, so their bodies won’t get misused again.”

    Pharma got the mechs and laid out their bodies on the ground. He grabbed their corresponding heads and placed them where they should’ve gone. Because of Adaptus’ blessing, their joints were movable, but were quickly stiffening. Star Saber gave them their last rites as Pharma called Xaaron, asking him for advice. Within minutes, immediately after Star Saber finished giving them their last rites, medics arrived and carried the corpses to a nearby clinic for an autopsy and subsequent burial.

    Fortunately, for Ten, Tyrest was quick to pull Ten away from the window and none of them saw the fight. (Ten wouldn’t have been able to see it well because his vision wasn’t nearly as good as Tyrest’s.) Sensing that there were no more sounds of fighting, Tyrest looked out of the window and managed to see the medics carry off the two corpses.

    Star Saber turned to Pharma and said to him, “There’s only one thing left to do.”

    “Go back inside?” asked Phama.

    “No, we have to get to the bottom of this,” said Star Saber as he pointed at the holes the legislators made when they popped out of the ground.

    “Are you crazy?!” asked Pharma. “Who knows how many more of those…cursed things are down there. We need backup.”

    Star Saber rolled his eyes and said, “Look, with Primus and Adaptus on our side, we don’t need backup.” He grabbed Pharma by the arm and jumped into the hole as the other legislators judgmentally shook their heads.

Chapter Text

    Pharma tried to free himself from Star Saber’s grip. Nervous and upset, Pharma tried to slap Star Saber and said, “Let me go you crazy ass motherfu…”

    Star Saber’s firm icy glare silenced Pharma. As much as Star Saber “respected” Pharma, for being the Reincarnation of Adaptus and personally experiencing his divine powers, he had no tolerance for obscene language. Unfortunately, Pharma was too intimidated to warn Star Saber that a strange portal opened up right before they hit the ground, and they both went through it.

    Both mechs felt the teleportation, as its ominous frequency ran through their circuitry, and they felt as if they were free-falling in low-gravity. The frequency also had scrambled their visual sensors, and neither of them knew where they were. Composing himself, Pharma cried, “Teleport us out of here, Star Saber!”

    “I can’t,” replied Star Saber. “That ability has been disabled.”

    “Pop open your chassis,” snapped Pharma, as he slowly felt his vision coming back. (Thanks to his holy regenerative abilities.)

    Star Saber sighed and opened his chest compartment, to reveal he was a small but averaged-sized mech who was using his aerial trailer, the V-Star, as power-armor. Pharma didn’t care about Star Saber’s real size and opened Star Saber’s spark chamber. Using his right hand, Pharma retracted his claws and manually hacked into Star Saber to activate his teleportation ability. Although Pharma had an idea of what he was doing, because Star Saber’s ability was similar to how a ground-bridge function, he had no clue what Luna-1’s coordinates were and was too proud to ask Star Saber for help. 

    Pharma accessed his own personal GPS, only to discover that the previous locations he had recorded were inexplicably deleted from memory. He wondered if that strange sensation he felt earlier had something to do with it. Taking a gamble, he began to type a coordinate that seemed familiar to him and inserted his fingers deep into Star Saber’s spark chamber, before activating Star Saber’s ability. (For this to work, both of them needed to be tethered together in some close or invasive way and this was really the only thing Pharma could think of at a moment’s notice.)

    Both of them teleported out of the strange location and appeared inside the school – specifically, in the Preschool classroom where the auxiliary teachers, Anode and Lug, were finishing up grading some papers. (The older sparklings had taken their finals and all the teachers, no matter the grade, all pitched in to help grade these tests by hand.)

    Star Saber shook his head as Pharma tried to remove his fingers from Star Saber’s spark chamber. Lug screamed.

    “What’s wrong?” asked Star Saber, who was seemingly unbothered by the very intimate fingering.

    “The HEPA Jet!” cried Lug, as she pointed accusingly at Pharma.

    “HOLY ADAPTUS!!” gasped Anode, who jumped over the desk and prostrated in front of Pharma, as Lug observed in shock.

    Pharma frowned because he had no idea what was going on and these two fembots he had never seen before were venerating him.

    Shaking his head, Star Saber closed his chest and donned his helmet. The first thing he tried to do, now that Pharma had let go of him, was figure out where they had teleported to. As far as Star Saber was concerned, it felt as if they were teleported out of orbit. While it was easy for Star Saber to return to Luna-1 because he was partially a shuttle, Pharma was a regular jet and unable to withstand the force of atmospheric reentry. Teleporting back to Luna-1, as they did, was their only option.

    Finally reorienting himself, Pharma asked, “Where are we?”

    “At the school, Reincarnation of Adaptus,” stammered Anode.

    “You can call me ‘Pharma’,” replied Pharma.

    Anode’s eyes widened with surprise because his name was fitting for a blessed healer. Anxious about getting scolded for not finishing up their grading, Lug grabbed Anode’s arm, attempting to lead her back to the desk. After all, they were almost done grading papers and they longed to go home and rest for the evening.

    Pharma still had no idea how to react, since he was used to being despised. Star Saber reached over, tapping Pharma on the shoulder. “We were in space.”

    “What makes you say that?” asked Pharma.

    Star Saber turned off the lights at the back of the classroom, away from Anode and Lug, and shined his helm’s eyes at the wall. A map appeared in the projection. Star Saber pointed at their last known coordinate which was quite far from both Luna-1 and Cybertron.

    Pharma’s eyes widened and he muttered, “Those bastards were trying to get rid of us.”

    “That’s a reasonable assumption,” replied Star Saber. “You’re the Reincarnation of Adaptus and a serious threat. Unfortunately, they didn’t realize I’m a shuttle capable of teleportation.”

    “What do we do now?” asked Pharma.

    “Present ourselves before the emirate and my colleagues,” replied Star Saber, as he grabbed Pharma, and teleported out of the room with him.

    Their abrupt departure startled Pharma, since he didn’t even get to say goodbye to Anode or Lug, who were also surprised that Star Saber and Pharma had suddenly disappeared. Anode and Lug looked at each other, confused by it all.

    Just then, someone knocked on the door and Anode shouted, “Come in!”

    It was the school’s headmaster. He wanted to check how they were progressing with their grading. Fortunately, Anode and Lug were finishing up and presented the graded exams to him. He took a quick skim of them and determined that they were graded well. Happy, he dismissed them for the day. Anode and Lug grabbed their belongings and headed out of the school.

    As soon as they entered their little ship, Anode asked Lug, “What just happened over there?! They smelled like they’ve been out of orbit and they even mentioned it.”

    “I agree with what they said, someone wants them out of here,” said Lug. “I’ve picked up some bad vibes from here but they’re not from any random bots in particular. It’s just that this whole…moon feels like a very bad place to live. Probably why the chief justice has those…holes, he’s scared 24/7 and too afraid to leave.”

    “Are you saying those holes are self-inflicted?” asked Anode.

    “Not to sound too Quintesson, but there’s a high-probability that they are,” said Lug. “Last week, the anatomy professor has asked me to help him find some adequate film to show his students. Being a Recordabot, searching through the film archives is easy. In my searching, I stumbled upon clips of patients with various dermal diseases, including self-harm via drilling. I’d show you, but I know you’d get queasy seeing it.”

    Covering her face, Anode asked, “Why would he do such a thing?”

    “Stress,” said Lug. “At least I hope it’s stress. It makes the most sense, considering his high ranking position.” Lug looked around and added softly, “Main reason I don’t seek a promotion. The more people you’re in charge of, the greater the responsibility. Not worth it.”

    Anode frowned. Mostly because it was clear that getting a promotion wasn't worth all the hassle associated with it.

    Meanwhile, Star Saber teleported to the chapel, were out of nowhere, he was punched in the face and knocked off balance. He overheard some concern chatter and saw the mech responsible for lifting his hand against him  – the chief justice.

    Upset, Tyrest yelled at Star Saber. “How dare you endanger this poor little boy?!”

    Rubbing the indentation his helm where Tyrest had struck him, Star Saber said nothing. He was shocked by being punched in the face by Tyrest, of all people. Tyrest grabbed Pharma and protectively tucked him under his wing. Pharma was confused with Tyrest’s behavior, which was oddly comforting.

    The Brainmasters watched in horror, since mechs who dared to strike Star Saber automatically challenged him to a duel and Tyrest was nowhere close to being a match against him. Star Saber got up and shrugged, replying nonchalantly, “To me, he’s the Reincarnation of Adaptus first, and a little boy second. If I’m going to fight, I’d want a god by my side.”

    Tyrest went pale, but was unable to say anything to him because he was too upset.

    Star Saber was still unpredictably calm throughout all of this, despite getting over his shock. He had no reason to be hostile towards Tyrest, who seemed to be acting upon strong parental instincts, which overrode his usual non-violent reactions.

    Breaking his silence Tyrest said, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t like the way you grabbed Dr. Pharma by the arm to take him with you. It bothered me.”

    “I accept your apology,” replied Star Saber. “Thinking about it, I can see why my actions upset you.”

    After everything settled, Star Saber told them what had occurred. That they had jumped down the hole, only to be teleported out of orbit. Tyrest made a mental note of it, and ordered his legislators to investigate. They went to the observatory and tracked the trajectory that Star Saber had described. Yet, they found nothing out of the ordinary.

Chapter Text

    Early the next morning, like at around 3:12 am, Xaaron woke up to his phone vibrating inside his subspace. It was an unfamiliar phone number, but he recognized its area code — from Nyon. Concerned, Xaaron answered it softly, “Hello?”

    Pharma was woken up by Xaaron’s reply. Concerned, Pharma asked him, “What’s going on, sir?”

    “I have an important phone call,” whispered Xaaron, as he covered up the phone. He then replied to the caller, “Oh, I see. Is this your new number?”

    Annoyed that Pharma was listening to his private conversation, Xaaron got out of bed and hurried outside. Pharma said nothing. In fact, he was still very sleepy and forgot about Xaaron as soon as he didn’t see him anymore. He yawned and tried to go back to sleep. Tired from all what’s happened to him. 

    Xaaron continued his conversation and hung up on the caller. He ran back inside the room and saw that Pharma had fallen asleep and that Nightbeat was also asleep. Xaaron grabbed the transporter and headed back outside, activating it. He teleported to the space bridge area by the hangar. 

    The legislator guards saw Xaaron, but did nothing as the emirate made his way to the space bridge’s control panels. (After all, he’s Tyrest’s friend and had been given temporary control of managing the Tyrest Accord, while Tyrest had been unwell. Xaaron had earned their trust.) The space bridge’s control panels were unusual. They were written in Primal Vernacular, using the same type of Cyberglyphics Xaaron had seen back at Vector Sigma. But, he also knew that Tyrest was too obsessed with the ancient Sea of Rust aesthetic, that he wouldn’t have hesitated to incorporate that look onto it.

    Xaaron entered the coordinates for a very specific location in Nyon, activated the space bridge and walked right in. After Xaaron had left the curious guards gathered around and looked at Xaaron’s destination. They typed in the coordinates in their own official Tyrest Accord GPS system and were surprised by the result — it was the Wreckers’ home base, Debris.

    The guards spoke among themselves, wondering if the situation, regarding the paranormal activities happening on the dark side of the moon got so bad that Xaaron felt the need to call in the Wreckers. 

    They debated whether or not they should inform Tyrest of the occurrence. The legislators had been ordered to keep matters regarding the dark side of the moon from reaching Tyrest. They feared that the events would frighten him away from Luna-1, causing their society to collapse since he was their colony queen. But their debate lasted long-enough that Xaaron returned and used his teleporter to go back to his room, where he promptly headed to the bathroom because the travelling made him sick.

    This time, Nightbeat woke up and approached the bathroom. “Sir, are you sick? Do you want me to wake up Pharma so he can assess you?”

    “I’m okay,” said Xaaron. “More than okay.”

    “You didn’t go out and interface did you?” asked Nightbeat.

    “How’d you figure that one out?” replied Xaaron. “I’m curious.”

    “It’s your voice, sir,” replied Nightbeat. “You sound like someone who’s gotten a good well-deserved frag. I mean, a ‘Fully Deserved’ frag. But I can’t help but feel happy for you, by finally making peace with Impactor.”

    Suddenly, Xaaron opened the door, nearly knocking Nightbeat back. His eyes widened and he said, softly but grimly, “Impactor did not offend me. Although, I was offended by how stubborn he was back then and even more offended by the system itself, but that’s a lot to unpack at this hour. But yes, we’ve reconciled.”

    “I understand completely,” replied Nightbeat. “So are the Wreckers going to help us? Because that’s what this looks like.”

    “Only if the chief justice approves,” replied Xaaron. “Right now, I can only convince him to allow Impactor to come. But I’m not sure about the rest of the team. Anyway, I have some good news that you’d might like to hear.”

    “What is it?” asked Nightbeat.

    “Springer has awakened from his coma,” said Xaaron. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to speak with him. Impactor took me to Springer’s room after we reconciled. He was asleep and the difference was noticeable — his plating’s color was more saturated, as it should be.”

    As they spoke, Pharma woke up. This time, he was more alert and overheard their conversation. He couldn’t help but be pleased at hearing the news. He found Springer’s state quite tragic because Springer was a young mech — born during wartime, and that was literally all he knew. From what the untranslated Datalogs said, Springer was born in the spring after the fall of the Nyonian Wall. (A wall erected by Zeta Prime, to trap all the Nyonian fighters inside the city-state, so they could slowly starve to death or kill each other.) This made Springer approximately Rodimus’ age. All the more reason Pharma questioned First Aid’s obsession with the young leader. 

    Pharma had met Springer when the Wreckers stopped in Messantine. The Wreckers had requested Pharma’s assistance because of his 0% mortality rate while performing experimental life-saving surgeries. Pharma had found their request quite odd, since they were mostly Mortilus cultists — mechs who willingly embrace death in reverence to Mortilus. But it was clear that they weren’t exactly devout. The Wreckers couldn’t stand the thought of losing their comrades. Pharma remembered, specifically, that Whirl was the one who approached him. To this day, Pharma was still haunted by their encounter.

    Whirl said to Pharma, in Primal Vernacular, “I can barely read Neocybex, but I’m not naïve. The 0% mortality rate you achieve in your surgeries is clearly the work of necromancy. But looking at you, you’re different than the typical necromancer; you seem nobler and I assume you use your skill when it's justifiable, correct?”

    Pallid, Pharma replied to him in Primal Vernacular, “Yes that is true. I’m ashamed of this ‘ability’ that was forced upon me in my youth, figuratively killing me long ago. I try my best not to do it, but I can’t help it.”

    “I understand,” said Whirl. “It’s easy to take shortcuts and that’s nothing to be ashamed of, unless you’re committing crimes with it.” Seeing that Pharma had gotten over his initial shock, Whirl continued, “I’m curious about your ‘technique’. What do you say you show me?”

    “Alright,” said Pharma nervously, as Whirl led him to the ship’s medibay. 

    There, Impactor was next to one of the beds, weeping bitterly over Springer while Roadbuster looked on helplessly. Perceptor was in the medibay too, functioning as a medic. Whirl ordered both Perceptor and Roadbuster to take Impactor back to his room. As the two mechs helped Impactor to his room, Pharma looked around and saw the mechs that Whirl wanted him to revive — Ironfist, Pyro, Rotorstorm, and the Jumpstarters. Upon seeing their condition, Pharma made up his mind to resurrect them.

    However, just as Whirl had said, Pharma worked justly. The first thing Pharma decided to do was to rebuild Pyro. It took Pharma a while, to carefully piece the fallen mech together, with a combination of his remnants and spare parts. In the meantime, Whirl had left to go fetch Roadbuster. The two mechs returned and saw that Pharma was still working. Finally, having finished, Pharma went to check on the Jumpstarters and did the necessary repairs, which were minor by comparison. When he finally finished, he said to Whirl, “Finally, what you’ve been waiting for.”

    Whirl and Roadbuster looked eagerly at Pharma, and then at their fallen comrades.

    “I’m sorry…,” said Pharma quite loudly.

    Filled with immense indignation, Roadbuster grabbed Pharma as Whirl looked on, almost fearing for Pharma. Roadbuster was quick to assume that Pharma had lied to them and was unable to reanimate the dead. However, Roadbuster didn’t have a chance to process his anger completely, when he sensed that there were several guns pointing at him. Ironfist, Pyro, Twin Twist, and Topspin were all aiming their blasters at him. But something was wrong; their eyes had an eerie purple glow to them, similar to the purple light coming from Pharma’s throat.

    “Apology accepted,” said Roadbuster nervously, as he carefully placed Pharma back on the ground. As soon as he did that, and Pharma no longer felt threatened, Roadbuster’s undead comrades put away their blasters.

    Pharma looked at them sadly, “They’ve been dead for too long, so they’re under my complete control. But I think this would last about 5 hours and after that, they’d regain their conscience and sentience. Unfortunately, you can’t leave or else our telepathic bond breaks and they’d die again.” Pharma then motioned for the mechs to return to their beds.

    “Wait up,” began Whirl. “If you reanimate a recently deceased mech, he wouldn’t have creepy glowing eyes, right? And he’d be himself, as if nothing happened?”

    “Yes,” said Pharma. “My ability seems to restore them to 85% - 90% health. These were dead for a while, so they’re at 60%, which is still a decent recovery.”

    “Could you do something about Springer?” asked Whirl. “I can make him recently deceased, so you could revive him too.”

    The un-dead comrades, quickly turned to face Whirl and glared at him. They could feel Pharma’s indignation, as their own, and were unable to hide it. There was no need for Pharma to say anything. After all, Pharma was a more noble necromancer and would never kill an innocent patient, if there were no negative consequences for refusing.

    Roadbuster was outraged too. He couldn’t believe what Whirl had even suggested. Whirl had helped raise Springer ever since he was a newborn. He couldn’t imagine that Whirl would be so cruel and sparkless towards the young mech he raised.

    Whirl sensed the tension he had caused. His cold aloof cyclopean gaze gave little insight to how he truly felt — desperate. All Whirl wanted was to end Springer’s suffering the quickest way imaginable. He thought that killing Springer quickly and cleanly, and then making Pharma revive him was the most efficient option. However, he understood Pharma’s decision not to kill Springer — it was already a miracle he had survived. 

    Fortunately, Whirl was able to make up an excuse to allow the Wreckers to stay 6 hours in Messantine, that way the therapeutic curse that enthralled his comrades would wear off safely. Grateful, Whirl handed Pharma a Nyonian pistol that he looted from a mercenary who worked for the Nyonian Old Regime. Pharma managed to conceal this pistol well that it was never removed from his storage after he was hospitalized on board the Lost Light.

    As fate would have it, Pharma and Whirl met again on the Lost Light. However, Whirl didn’t dare approach Pharma. Perhaps he was too ashamed about requesting Pharma to perform necromancy, or perhaps thinking that Pharma was disgusted with him for suggesting to murder Springer. After all, Whirl was impossible to read since he was an empurata victim and Pharma had no idea what why he didn’t talk to him.

Chapter Text

    Xaaron went to look for Tyrest, since Tyrest wasn’t in the dining hall for breakfast and neither was Star Saber. The first thing that came to Xaaron’s mind was that the two large flyers were interfacing with each other. But Xaaron quickly dismissed this thought since both of these mechs were chaste. (At least, Xaaron assumed that Star Saber was chaste too but he had his doubts. Especially, since Vector Sigma had a tentacle monster as its guardian and Star Saber never mentioned his encounter with it, despite being the type to brag about battles.) Xaaron needed to tell Tyrest about how he invited Impactor to Luna-1.

    Meanwhile, Tyrest was in his room accompanied by Star Saber. They were standing closely to each other and looking down at a map that Tyrest had sketched while attaining enlightenment.

    “Finally, something will be done,” said Tyrest as he pointed at the map. “I had sensed a disturbance here, where my experimental space bridge is located. Someone will trespass into Luna-1 shortly, and I need you to travel there immediately and confront this intruder. He means no harm, but I want him to know that I have no tolerance for lawbreakers.”

    “Do you want me to kill him?” asked Star Saber.

    “No, I want you to confront him,” replied Tyrest. “The only people I want to have killed are Tyrest Accord violators. This mech was accused of violating the Tyrest Accord but the accusations were false because there’s nothing in the Tyrest Accord that prohibits killing someone with your own natural weaponry out of revenge. You have to be careful though. He aims for the head.”

    “Good thing I’m not a Headmaster,” replied Star Saber.

    “Aren’t you a Brainmaster though?” asked Tyrest.

    “That’s different,” replied Star Saber, who immediately teleported out of the room just before Xaaron walked in.

    Xaaron managed to catch a glimpse of Star Saber teleporting away before letting out a soft gasp.

    “Next time you make a reboot-y call, you ask me permission first,” said Tyrest ominously.

    “You sent Star Saber to get killed!” cried Xaaron.

    “He is a Brainmaster, the mech can think for himself,” said Tyrest.

    “All he ever thinks about is ‘Courage’ meaning ‘running brain-first into danger’,” said Xaaron. “That careless attitude isn’t something to equate with ‘intelligence’ or 'common sense'. The latter being something Star Saber lacks.”

    “We’ll see about that…,” replied Tyrest as he crossed his arms. 

    Star Saber arrived at the experimental space bridge and was greeted by the legislators working there. Moments later, the space bridge was activated and an earth-boring yellow and purple tankformer crossed through the space bridge. Star Saber immediately recognized the mech as Impactor, former leader of the Wreckers. (After all, Xaaron always spoke fondly of him.) Despite his grand and kingly presence, and being shorter than Star Saber imagined, Impactor was a humble and hardworking mech of the earth. Sensing him as a fellow worker and laborer, the legislators didn’t react with hostility towards him. Impactor noticed Star Saber too, and was relieved that he did, because the first thing that would’ve come out of Impactor’s mouth was, “Where the hell is that wily old buzzard?” Something an uptight religious fanatic, more so than Xaaron, would never approve of.

    Impactor turned to Star Saber and asked, “Where is Emirate Xaaron? He requested to see me.”

    “I saw him speaking with the chief justice,” replied Star Saber.

    “I knew it!” scoffed Impactor. “This was one of his impulsive schemes. He probably didn’t even ask for permission to invite me here.”

    “The chief justice has ordered me to meet you here,” said Star Saber, “to ensure your safe arrival.”

    “What a polite way of saying, ‘The chief justice sent his biggest and strongest enforcer currently stationed on Luna-1 to intimidate me for space-bridging here without his permission’,” replied Impactor. “I appreciate the kind gesture. Thank you.”

    Seeing that Impactor was not the type to mince words because he spoke much more bluntly than Xaaron, Star Saber said, “You’re welcome. He didn’t seem too annoyed by it.” Star Saber stopped before telling Impactor that he suspected that the chief justice had a brief smoking break before summoning Star Saber and ordering him to go to the space bridge.

    Just then, Xaaron arrived with his teleporter in hand, accompanied by Nightbeat. He ran up to Impactor, leaping into his arms to give him a hug. Impactor caught him but remained stoic as his knees nearly buckled. For all the talk about his joints hurting all the time, Xaaron seemed to have plenty of energy to run around and leap.

    “Good morning,” said Nightbeat. “I see you’re here to help us with our terrorcon problem.”

    “What the f…Xaaron?!” asked Impactor.

    Xaaron remained calm, even though that wasn’t the reason he had invited Impactor over. He glared at Nightbeat, who was oblivious to being scolded by a look. Even though dealing with these terrorcons was a top priority, Xaaron was seeking companionship when he made the decision to invite Impactor to Luna-1.

    “Hold on, Nightbeat,” said Xaaron. “Since I retired from my position of Autobot High Council Chairman, I have no authority to command the Wreckers to attack these terrorcons. Besides, these are terrorcons — undead monstrosities. They’re not even comparable to Decepticon soldiers that the Wreckers are used to fighting against.”

    “Xaaron, are you saying my team is incapable of beating up zombies?” asked Impactor. “Because that’s far from the truth.”

    “These zombies have the cursed blood of Unicron flowing through their veins,” said Star Saber. “Sure you can beat them up, but that doesn’t diminish the risk of getting contaminated by them and becoming one of them.” He turned to Xaaron and asked, “Did you doubt my skills as a holy warrior of Primus, and those of my fellow priests, that you called in your personal assassins?”

    Xaaron covered his face. The one time he just wanted to bring his conjunx endura over for some intimate fun, was the time where everyone was quick to assume this was one of his problem-solving schemes. 

    Star Saber quickly caught on, unlike Nightbeat and said, “There’s no reason to doubt, but I can understand why you’d think we’d need reinforcements. The chief justice is in his room waiting for us to discuss this matter further.”

    Impactor narrowed his eyes and asked Star Saber, “Are you sure you’re not a Marketing Executive? You’re really good at making things sound a heck of a lot better than what they are.”

    “I am a priest,” said Star Saber. “I believe the chief justice handles most of the marketing himself.”

    “Makes sense,” said Impactor. “That explains all the nice artsy Tyrest Accord brochures. Only a creative, introverted, pacifist nerd would think of advertising it like that, instead of using gory photographs to discourage disobedience.”

    “You just called the chief justice a nerd,” said Nightbeat.

    “So?” asked Impactor. “That’s what he is, isn’t he? Just like everyone else on this so-called ‘Fecund Moon’.”

    As they spoke, Pharma felt compelled to visit the chief justice and went to do so. Tyrest was in his room, accompanied by Ten who had his illustration laptop on hand. Ten had drawn several sketches that he wanted his dam to inspect, since he was commissioned to illustrate the next set of Tyrest Accord brochures. 

    The Tyrest Accord brochures were usually distributed to Autobot and Decepticon outposts, to remind the soldiers to behave nicely. However, as Impactor implied, the brochures’ message was too often ignored. Most of the mechs who saw the brochures were instead mesmerized by the beautiful illustrations and collected them. Some mechs contacted the Tyrest Accord in regards to getting larger prints of the artwork, which in turn, prompted Tyrest to offer prints for sale, with the proceeds going directly into funding Tyrest Accord enforcement. The prints were always available for sale. In fact, a section of the Tyrest Accord’s website was devoted to archiving all of the illustrations used in the brochures for everyone to enjoy.

    “Ten…” said Ten.

    “What are you talking about?” asked Tyrest, with some slight concern.

    “Ten!” replied Ten. 

    Tyrest heard a knock on the door and answered it, seeing it was Pharma, he allowed him to enter.

    As he entered, the first thing Pharma noticed, was the hand-drawn map Tyrest had on the table. Nonchalantly, he asked, “Chief Justice, who drew this map?”

    “I did,” replied Tyrest. “Last night, I had a vision which needed to be illustrated.”

    “Interesting,” said Pharma, “I could’ve sworn I’ve seen this art style before. The way it’s drawn and colored is very unique.” Pharma crossed his arms, trying his best to remember where he had seen a picture drawn in Tyrest’s style.

    “I used to create my own illustrations for the Tyrest Accord brochures before the workload increased and had to commission other artists because I no longer had the energy to do them myself,” replied Tyrest. “Perhaps you’ve seen a brochure I had the pleasure of illustrating.”

    Pharma’s eyes widened. Suddenly, he remembered where he has seen the picture. It was a couple of months ago, back when the DJD’s leader, Tarn, had attempted to coerce Pharma into leaving with him aboard his ship, The Peaceful Tyranny. 

    Pharma was stationed in a spare room, which seemed to have belonged to the DJD member, “Vos”. There were many old magazines there from Vos and many of them were written in Primal Vernacular. In an attempt to calm himself down, Pharma tried to read one of the magazines, only for a small stapled booklet to fall out of it. The cover was blank, but inside was a group illustration of the Wreckers, but they all had Decepticon insignias. During the war, soldiers used to print out comic strips made by indie artists who posted on art websites. Pharma was curious about this Wreckers fanfic comic. Its art style was unusual, rough and almost psychedelic due to the skewed perspective. However, like many of the other printed-out stapled comics, this comic was highly pornographic in nature. As far as typical Decepticon smut comics were, this fanfic comic was depressive and sarcastic which was what made it difficult for Pharma to put it down. It was so depressing that Pharma wondered if it was possible for anyone to even find it arousing. The comic was such a mood killer, that Pharma forgot most of what had happened and the only thing he could remember was the art style. The fact it was identical to Tyrest’s art style left him with so many questions.

    Tyrest noticed Pharma’s blank expression as he zoned out, possibly because the shock of seeing the “sad porn” art again. Tyrest couldn’t help but smile and nonchalantly resumed his conversation with Ten regarding the commissions for the brochures.

Chapter Text

    After finishing his appointment with Ten, Tyrest walked over to Pharma, who was still mortified by the realization that Tyrest was most likely the artist behind some of the most depressive hentai he’s ever come across. Practically paralyzed, Pharma stood silently in the room. Tyrest approached Pharma and passed his hand over Pharma’s eyes to assess his reaction. Pharma’s eyes detected Tyrest’s hand, his irises moved accordingly, following the movements of the hand.

    Pharma shook his head, and blinked. Now that he was oriented, Tyrest whispered to him, “Let’s hurry, before Star Saber and the others arrive.”

    “Alright,” chuckled Pharma. “Something tells me they’d get sidetracked anyway.”

    Pharma hurried and entered the secret entrance with Tyrest. Tyrest clicked on his staff once more, to close the bookshelf behind them. They went down a dark stairway which became more humid the further down they went. Pharma couldn’t help but feel a bit apprehensive. Almost as if Tyrest was leading him down into a cellar so he could try some of Tyrest's amontillado.

    When they were deeper down the stairway, Tyrest finally spoke, “It hasn’t been that long since you’ve arrived. So I don’t blame Emirate Xaaron nor the priests, if they’ve not taught you how to properly harness your divine powers.”

    “Emirate Xaaron tried once,” replied Pharma. “He said to do this.”

    Pharma channeled his divine energy, which caused him to change colors in front of Tyrest. Surprisingly, Tyrest had no desire to point out that Pharma merely showed him an example, instead of explaining it through speech.

    “Whoa…,” gasped Pharma, as he looked at his denim blue frame. “I didn’t black out this time.”

    Rubbing his long chin, Tyrest replied, “Perhaps you’re learning how to better control your divine powers. Which is exactly why I want you to take you to the underground reservoir. There are several naturally occurring springs beneath this compound, but this particular one I’m taking you to is very special.” 

    They continued to go down the stairway until they arrived at an underground golden lagoon. 

    “Is this electrum?!” asked Pharma.

    “Yes,” said Tyrest. “From what I understand, Emirate Xaaron and Star Saber are planning on investigating some strange terrorcon attacks. I’ve heard that these terrorcons can infect mechs by biting them and puncturing their carapace. I hope that submerging in this electrum will protect you from any possible attack because I know that they'd want you to join in their fight. After all, you are the Reincarnation of Adaptus, and it's your duty to fight against such corruption.”

    “The emirate had told me to keep the terrorcon stuff a secret from you because the legislators insisted,” said Pharma. “But you already know everything.”

    Tyrest chuckled. “This is why I place my faith in Primus, Solomus, and Fate. They all write their messages  in the stars. The divine do not keep secrets, it’s just that us laymechs struggle to understand what is beyond our comprehension. I was upset when I first learned that they were withholding important information from me. But I’ve come to realize that they mean no harm and believe that they’re protecting me like this. I just play naïve, so I wouldn’t hurt their feelings.”

    Pharma transformed into his HEPA jet form and dove into the golden lagoon. He understood right away that Tyrest was hoping that Pharma would coat himself in electrum while channeling Adaptus, to increase his armor rating further. Due to electrum's chemical nature, diving into it didn’t affect or clog Pharma’s sensitive vents. Tyrest also noticed that the lagoon began to sparkle as soon as Pharma was submerged in it. Being the HEPA jet, Pharma was purifying the golden lagoon, while getting coated in electurm.

    As Tyrest continued to observe Pharma from a distance, his phone went off and he placed it next to a communicube that was on a nearby pedestal. A hologram of a Decepticon triple-changer appeared.

    Tyrest smiled upon seeing the mech and said to him, "Good morning, Councilmember Flywheels. What can I do for you today?" 

    "Nothing on your behalf," he said happily. "I only wanted to inform you about various propositions that the city-state council is working on."

    Crossing his arms, Tyrest said, "You know, you're the first and only councilmember who has ever informed me about what you are all doing. I like that about you."

    "Oh," gasped Flywheels. "I figured it was common courtesy. We owe you, chief justice, and the Tyrest Accord for the peace in the Sea of Rust." He smiled nervously and added, "You don't remember me, do you?"

    "Excuse me?" asked Tyrest. As far as he was concerned, he met Flywheels several months ago, while Flywheels campaigned for the city-state council as the head of the tourism department. Then, he met Flywheels again on two other occasions after he won the elections. Even though Flywheels seemingly had no political experience, he was well-versed in the law, which Tyrest found very impressive.

    "I was the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord for the Decepticons," said Flywheels. "I was almost permanently offline, but was rescued and rebuilt. However, I'm unfit for combat, so I've returned to Tyrest and retired here. I later got into politics because I still want to protect and serve my community, but I'm unfit to do any patrolling."

    Tyrest's eyes widened. "I remember now. Forgive me for not recognizing you. The Flywheels I remember was much smaller."

    "It's okay," said Flywheels. "I changed a lot." Flywheels chuckled and added, "Perhaps my makeover was too extreme. I was told that my body was completely rebuilt from scratch because my body was heavily damaged. Miraculously my brain-module and my spark survived whatever happened to me."

    "Excuse me sir, how was your body destroyed?" asked Pharma, who had finished swimming in the lagoon, and stood in the shoreline to dry off.

    "It was described as 'mulch' in the reports," said Flywheels. "As if I was shredded alive. I'm aware that being an Enforcer is a dangerous job. Whoever or whatever I faced was extremely dangerous. Fortunately the DJD, of all people, found me and brought me to the nearest Decepticon outpost, where the Tyrest Accord was contacted for further assistance."

    It was difficult for Pharma to hold his tongue. The way Flywheels described his injuries, was as if he was attacked by the DJD member code-named "Tesarus", the living blender. The DJD must have spotted Flywheels interacting with Autobots, as part of his duties of Tyrest Accord Enforcer, and immediately assumed he was a traitor. It was after the torture and carnage that they checked his identity and realized who he  was.

    The Duly Appointed Tyrest Enforcer was supposedly one of the bravest and most honorable mechs who represented his respective faction. Just like the steadfast and loyal Ultra Magnus represents the Autobots. From what Pharma understood, it took Megatron a very long time to find a perfect candidate. (Because Decepticons are all scummy mechs.) For the DJD to attack a mech handpicked by Megatron as his representative was a massive faux pas. Pharma wondered if this was the reason that the DJD's original Vos got replaced. There had to have been severe punishment for this grave mistake. 

    Still, it would explain Flywheels' extreme makeover as well. For his suffering and possible trauma, he was given a new body that was better than his original one. Although Flywheels appeared to be completely healthy, there was still the chance he had not recovered mentally from it, after all these years. For this reason, Pharma remained silent. Though he hated Decepticons for everything they had done, he couldn't bear to hate an innocent civilian, who was once an honorable soldier.

    Tyrest nonchalantly continued his conversation with Flywheels, who wanted to purchase a tablet from the chief justice because he heard they contained up-to-date copies of the Tyrest Accord. Feeling guilty for not remembering him, Tyrest insisted on giving one to Flywheels for free and sent him an attachment with the models he had available, so Flywheels could choose the one he wanted. When he received the attachment, Flywheels bid Tyrest farewell and hung up afterwards. 

    Frowning, Tyrest said to Pharma, "I can't believe I forgot about him. To be fair, he was badly injured around the time I had my own near-death experience. I don't remember much from that time either." 

    Concerned Pharma asked, "Did someone attempt against your life?"

    Tyrest paused because he wasn't sure how to answer that question. He could see it in Pharma's eyes that the doctor had figured out what had occurred and came to the correct conclusion. 

    The awkward silence was broken, when Tyrest received another call. This time, it was from Xaaron. Tyrest put his phone next to the communicube again, to project Xaaron's hologram.

    Since holograms were occasionally customizable, Xaaron appeared as a large, imposing golden tankformer. Almost like Megatron, except more heroic and noble. "My friend, where are you? I need to show you something."

    "Is it your powerful earth-boring husband?" asked Tyrest. 

    "Of course," replied Xaaron, who was surprised that Tyrest’s hologram was of his usual self, albeit without the holes. (Tyrest’s regular customized hologram was of a large creepy-looking mech, with a skeletal face and tattered wings. Xaaron found it disingenuous and disgusting, although other mechs liked it because it was intimidating.)

    "Meet me in Conference Room #1113-B," said Tyrest. "I'll wait for you there."

    Xaaron's hologram rolled his eyes and said, "Very well."

    Turning to Pharma, Tyrest said, "He's just grumpy because I didn't answer his question like he wanted me to." Pulling out his own teleporter, Tyrest opened a small portal and Pharma followed him in. 

    “I have the tablets I offered Flywheels here,” continued Tyrest. “It does take a while for the Tyrest Accord to be downloaded into these. I plan on giving Flywheels his tablet, in person, when I travel to the Sea of Rust on Quintessence Day. Which would be some time next week. Wow, these days go by quickly, don’t they?”

    They waited in the conference room until they heard a knock on the door. Pharma got up and answered it. It was Xaaron and Xaaron wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

    Xaaron was accompanied by Impactor, Nightbeat, and Star Saber. The four mechs entered Conference Room #1113-B. Shoving Xaaron aside, Impactor walked up to Tyrest and asked, “Is it true that you’re the one who is in charge or advertising for the Tyrest Accord?”

    “Affirmative,” nodded Tyrest.

    “Springer is a big fan of your work,” said Impactor. “He has brochures pinned up all over his bedroom walls like posters. Makes sense because that kid loves art and culture…have no idea where he got that from. But that’s the problem. As nice as these brochures are, they suck at enforcing the Tyrest Accord. Mechs look at them and think they’re pretty, but don’t think about how smuggling weapons endangers civilians.”

    Nightbeat covered his mouth, because he was not expecting Impactor to complain about the brochure. (In fact, Nightbeat had no idea how Impactor was going to react upon meeting Tyrest. Figuring out how Impactor’s mind worked was too intimidating of a mystery to get involved in.)

    “I understand your point,” Tyrest said. “However, with so much bloodshed caused by both the Great War and the violators of the Tyrest Accord, I cannot afford to risk triggering an innocent reader. Once they see something disturbing, they won’t even remember the message the brochure is trying to convey. But these innocent readers are supposed to be civilians and law-abiding mechs; individuals who deserve mercy. As for offenders, the brochures cannot teach them anything. The only way they learn is to be quartered and used for spare parts.”

    Impactor rubbed his chin. Tyrest was absolutely correct. Perhaps the reason the brochure failed to work on Impactor was because he was a bad boy. But then again, Impactor disliked confrontation or disturbing others’ peace, unless those others disturbed him first in some way. After a brief pause, Impactor spoke again, “I don’t think they learn by getting quartered either. Primus knows how many times that balloon-lipped bastard gets blown apart and he still starts trouble.”

    Tyrest narrowed his eyes, since he had no clue who Impactor was referring to.

    Having figured out who Impactor was referring to, Nightbeat smiled and said, “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone compare Overlord’s lips to balloons.”

    “Who is Overlord?” asked Tyrest.

    Xaaron turned to look at him in shock. Especially, since just about everyone knew how much of a nasty, sadistic mech Overlord was.  

    Tyrest rolled his eyes and said, “I can’t keep up with all these names. I already deal with too much.”

    Nightbeat showed Tyrest several photos of Overlord. Including one where he was chained up in some basement. Nightbeat said to him, "This is one of the Decepticon Point-One Percenters, known as a Phase Sixer. His goals are truly mysterious, but it's been rumored that he wants to challenge Megatron to a rematch because Megatron beat him up a long time ago in a duel."

    Tyrest wrinkled his nose and said, "Ew. Seriously, I don't recognize him. But he looks like someone who isn't worth my time. Perhaps Megatron feels the same way about him, and that's why he seems to ignore his challenges. Enough about that mech, please have a seat."

    Pharma hurried to arrange chairs for them. It was then that Impactor finally noticed him and asked, "Weren't you the doctor that saved my squadron?"

    "Yes sir," replied Pharma. 

    "Why couldn't you help Springer?" asked Impactor sadly. "For three years, Kup cried bitterly over him. Springer is his only son – a sparkling he miraculously had at such an old age, caught between life and death because he's very unstable."

    "My resuscitation methods would've done him more harm than good," said Pharma quietly. "Besides, he's a resilient mech. The only thing that was going to revive him was something that compelled him to take matters into his own hands. Otherwise, how else would he avoid the burden of leadership without repercussions?"

    Impactor stopped to think. During his time at Garrus-9, Impactor had a lot of time to think and realized that he misspent his youth with impulsive decisions that he later came to regret. For this reason, he made up his mind to think things through, just like Xaaron was accustomed to doing. However, Impactor wasn't used to pondering, so he was slow about it.

    As Impactor pondered, Tyrest crossed his arms and said to Xaaron, “I’m curious to know what pretext you’re going to use, to justify bringing your conjunx before me.”

    “So am I,” replied Impactor.

    “My friend,” began Xaaron. “Were you not looking for an acceptable substitute for that gala, because your Duly Appointed Tyrest Accord Enforcer cannot make it?”

    “Yes,” replied Tyrest. “What makes you think your conjunx is an acceptable substitute?”

    “Yeah, how the heck am I like Ultra Magnus?" asked Impactor. He pointed at Star Saber and said, "This orange muscle priest is more like Ultra Magnus than me. He just needs to be blue." Apparently, the word "paladin" wasn't part of Impactor's vocabulary. (But then, Impactor never had to use this word, until now.)

    "You heard Impactor's opinion regarding Overlord," said Xaaron. "That it takes more than complete physical damage to get through someone so cruel. Clearly, Impactor understands the Spirit of the Law without having read the law in its entirety. Imagine how efficiently he'd enforce it, if he was taught it. I believe Impactor is a suitable candidate as Ultra Magnus' substitute. Besides, he was unjustly imprisoned for getting revenge on a mech who threatened my life and endangered his."

    Impactor narrowed his eyes. He was aware of Ultra Magnus' income. Even substituting for one day, Impactor would earn enough money to pay off several of the loans the Wreckers took out for Springer's mounting medical bills. But the problem was that Impactor was bad at school. Realizing that it was a challenge, Impactor said, "Give me that test and I'll show you what I can do."

    Nightbeat and Pharma turned to look at Impactor. Then they turned to Tyrest. Tyrest was surprised by Impactor's reply because he had hoped Impactor would scold Xaaron for getting him involved in his schemes. Meanwhile, Xaaron smiled because this meant that Impactor had to spend some time on Luna-1 to study the Tyrest Accord. 

    Finally, Tyrest said, "I can make arrangements. The gala isn't until half a lunar cycle, anyway. But I think it's best to notify your squadron of your decision first."

    "Of course," nodded Impactor. 

    Just then, Tyrest received a phone call and it was from Flywheels. He stepped away to answer it, while Xaaron took it as an opportunity to call the Wreckers in Nyon. Impactor was still annoyed by all of this, since it felt like he was being dragged along to some adventure he wanted no part in. Xaaron explained the situation to them in Primal Vernacular. He spoke so fast that Impactor struggled to understand him. But what Impactor did understand was that his squadron was completely okay with Impactor staying on Luna-1.

    Meanwhile, Pharma and Nightbeat were looking at the tablets Tyrest kept in the conference room. There were about a dozen of them. These tablets were recycled electronics that were rebuilt by Legislators, as a job opportunity to add to their resume. Due to strict quality control and the fact that these tablets were now one-of-a-kind items, they were much better than the original manufactured ones. Tyrest approached them and took a tablet. He scanned it, logged into it with Flywheel’s credentials, and then began the process of downloading the Tyrest Accord onto the tablet.

    “Impactor, come here,” said Tyrest as Impactor approached him. He turned to Impactor and asked, “For your lesson plan, you also need a tablet with the Tyrest Accord saved onto it. Choose any tablet on this table and it will be completely free for you.”

    With his left hand, Impactor covered his face. He then blurted out, “I barely know how to use my brick phone.”

    “Not to worry, these tablets are easy to use,” said Tyrest. “So easy that a recently-weaned Legislator sparkling can figure out how to use one on his own.”

    “Give me this thick one,” said Impactor as he pointed at the biggest one.

    Tyrest took it and called Xaaron over to help Impactor create an account with the Tyrest Accord, before he could be logged into the tablet. That was the catch – that these wonderful tablets were only free to mechs affiliated with the Tyrest Accord. Surprisingly, both tablets – Flywheels’ and Impactor’s, quickly downloaded the entirety of the Tyrest Accord in less than 5 minutes. Tyrest took Impactor’s tablet and handed it to him. He then got Flywheel’s tablet and began to package it for Flywheels. 

    He motioned to Xaaron to show Impactor around the compound, since he was going to stay there for a while. Impactor, Xaaron, and Nightbeat left the conference room. As they headed back to their guest room, Xaaron started giving Impactor a tour of the compound. However, Impactor was not impressed. He turned to Xaaron and asked him, “Are you reading this off some prompt on your HUD?”

    “Of course not,” said Xaaron. “I remember this because I love to listen to my friends ramble on about their hobbies and interests.”

    “Let me look at those eyes,” said Impactor, as he grabbed Xaaron and looked into his eyes. Fortunately, Xaaron was quick to minimize the tour descriptions so that Impactor didn’t get the chance to see them. Instead, when they were finally face-to-face with each other, Xaaron reached over and pecked Impactor’s lips. Impactor was quick too and grabbed ahold of one of Xaaron’s lip cables.

    At that moment, Nightbeat realized that Xaaron had brought over Impactor for company and covered his face. But since Tyrest was quick to make rearrangements for guests, it was likely that Nightbeat and Pharma were to be moved around to another nearby room. Fortunately, Impactor wasn’t in the mood for anything because too much had happened to him in a short amount of time. They arrived at the guest room and walked in.

    As all three of them sat down, Impactor said, “I’m surprised the chief justice took this all well. I’ve been told that he’s very strict about visitation. You know that young pink fembot who occasionally worked as your bodyguard, Arcee? She's banned from coming here to Luna-1."

    "Wait what?" asked Xaaron. "Arcee has done nothing wrong!"

    “I know, but both Prowl and Springer have told me about this," said Impactor. "Feel free to ask them, if you don’t believe me. Prowl was the most concerned, since she is his daughter. He confronted the chief justice about it. You know what the chief justice said to him? He said he won't allow anyone named 'Arson' on Luna-1. Yeah that's right. He thinks she's named Arson and Prowl failed to convince him otherwise."

    Xaaron's eyes widened.

    “That makes sense,” said Nightbeat. “Legislators are basically big golden beeformers. Beeformers are deathly afraid of fire, so he doesn’t want her living up to her name.”

    Xaaron covered his face and wanted to scream. As much as he loved Tyrest as a friend, he occasionally came to some absurd conclusions in which he had no nice words for.

Chapter Text

    Keeping his promise, Star Saber walked Impactor to the Chief Justice's office, early the next morning. Star Saber and Xaaron both received a slightly garbled message from the Chief Justice, asking that only Impactor be allowed in the office, because he wished to speak with him in private.

    Impactor smiled smugly since Xaaron wasn't going to meddle. After all, Impactor had a few words he'd personally wish to tell the Chief Justice in private. As they walked, Impactor said to Star Saber, “I’m surprised that a mech like you is a friend of the emirate and the chief justice.”

    Star Saber stopped and asked, “Why do you say that?”

    Impactor smiled and said, “Because of the circumstances in my life, I’ve learned to know a mech by the sound his brain module makes when he starts to think. You’re kinda like me – someone who values action and isn’t afraid to personally fight for what he believes in.”

    Star Saber’s eyes widened and it was then that he heard the slight whirling of the fans that cooled his very brain module. 

    Impactor continued, “Unlike the two of us, the emirate and the chief justice prefer to wait before acting. This waiting has always confused me. You'd think that someone who's dedicated their whole life to the welfare and safety of others would be the first one to step in and act.”

    "That's very true," replied Star Saber. "I knew someone like that in my former colony. I know he was a good mech, but his passivity often made me question his morals and convictions. As warriors, it's supposed to be our duty to protect the people and our home. Long after I left, I was told that some troublemakers attacked the colony in search of a fugitive. And because this mech was slow to call for reinforcements, his favorite apprentice was so badly wounded in the battle that he was left disabled."

    Of course, Impactor was curious to know what compelled Star Saber to abandon his colony once and for all. For Star Saber was clearly a faithful and fearless warrior. (Impactor's curiosity stemmed from reasons to learn what could be done to keep mechs like him from abandoning the Autobot Cause. Impactor was already fully-aware of the "Sin of Leadership," in which a leader fails everyone by not upholding their own morals.) But knowing himself, Impactor felt it was better to wait and see, than to try to pry.

    Shortly afterwards, they finally arrived at the office, and Impactor knocked on the door. The door opened as Star Saber returned to the chapel while Impactor entered. 

    As soon as Impactor stepped foot in the office, Tyrest immediately recognized him and sighed. He felt immense guilt for Impactor's unjust conviction but there was nothing he could legally do – not only did Impactor's squadron all sign documents stating he had executed Decepticons in Pova (a combat-free zone) but Impactor admitted guilt by adamantly stating that he'd do it again, if given a choice. To Tyrest, Impactor was "innocent" because one of the Decepticons was a mech who nearly killed Impactor, after Impactor pushed Emirate Xaaron,  the Decepticon's actual target, out of the way. Impactor's attack was justified morally, but not in the eyes of the law.

    Impactor immediately recognized Tyrest too and said to him, "Good morning, I hope you're doing well." Even though Impactor could tell that Tyrest was very unwell and miserable. The sounds Tyrest’s brain module was making were deeply concerning.

    Tyrest smiled and said, "I've seen better days. Do you know why I’ve summoned you here?"

    “Yeah, you want to put me to the test,” said Impactor. “You want to be sure that we see eye-to-eye. I totally get it. Mechs these days lack the orbs to stand up for their own principles. From what Xaaron has told me about you, you don't wish to hire cowards. If the candidates can't stand up for themselves, they won't be able to stand up for the Tyrest Accord and the civilians it’s meant to protect.”

    “I’m glad you understand,” smiled Tyrest. “In fact, my question was the first test and you passed it. Perhaps it’s a bit unfair, since you’re a laborer and are expected to think sharply so early in the morning.”

    Impactor frowned, since it seemed that Tyrest was even sneakier than Xaaron. 

    "But there's more," continued Tyrest, "much like in life. Because you're a mech who always tries to do everything transparently, I'm going to tell you this very clearly; I'm strict with my requirements because I don't trust anybody. Sometimes, I even believe that my faithful Duly Appointed Enforcer won't hesitate to betray me to look good in front of his corrupt colleagues. Even though this is just a temporary gig for both of us, you're no different than a regular full-time employee for me."

    Impactor nodded, "Understood."

    But for Impactor, this was a brief summary of how he felt. The real reason the Autobot faction was slowly becoming corrupted was due to too much leniency. Lazy but charismatic mechs who didn't sincerely believe in the Autobot cause were given high-ranking positions. And instead of using their charisma to acquire needed resources to help the Autobot faction as a whole, they pocketed the funds. (This behavior was also what ultimately led to the revolution.) It was obvious that Tyrest had figured this out, after all, he always had a good intuition about such matters. He didn't want his righteous faction to become the very thing he sought to protect innocent civilians against.

    Tyrest then pulled out a tablet and a bottle of water. He insisted on personally reading the Terms and Conditions out loud to Impactor. Obviously, this is the real reason Tyrest wanted to meet with Impactor so early in the morning. Reading this documentation was going to take a very long time. 

    Since no one's lives were currently at stake, Impactor didn't mind the wait. (In fact, he was actually quite laid back and enjoyed doing stuff without rushing.) This was what Impactor liked about Tyrest. Unlike most of the mechs he met in Iacon, Tyrest was always considerate of the illiterate, and never looked down on their opinions. Also, Tyrest wasn't bothered when Impactor asked for clarification. Besides, if Impactor learned anything about what happened to him at the Aequitas Trials, was that people should be certain of what they're signing, otherwise they'd legally agree to something they disagree with. 

    As they continued with their meeting, Star Saber was at the chapel with the Brainmasters. Like in most of the Cybertronian religions, mechs prayed in their robot-mode. That was also the custom among the Circle of Light. So it was strange to see that Pharma had chosen his alt-mode, the sacred HEPA-Jet. Not only that, but Pharma was now blue and gold, instead of his mostly white, medic colors.

    Realizing that this entrance act was that of Adaptus, rather than Pharma, Galaxy Shuttle stood up and approached Pharma. However, his friends were quick to stop him, since it was rude to interrupt prayer. At that moment, they too realized that Adaptus was among them and waited for him to finish.

    The Brainmasters were not surprised to see Pharma arrive at the chapel. The morning had been a totally hectic one, that this was just some other random occurrence that would coincidentally occur. The sight was oddly comforting; perhaps Adaptus was going to tell them something in relation to the lost city of Adaptica. 

    However, Adaptus had other ideas. As far as the Guiding Hand member was concerned, there were more important things to worry about than finding the lost city, which was obviously somewhere safe. As Adaptus sat towards the back of the chapel, Pharma momentarily regained consciousness and felt as if Adaptus was there next to him. Pharma didn't know much of their religion, but he had heard old prophecies stating that when Adaptus would reincarnate and walk among mechs, he would find no faith in Cybertron. However, this didn't seem to be the case here. (After all, a chapel isn't a place to hold conversation. )

    Since Adaptus spoke to Pharma's very spark, he told him, "It's a little known fact that salvation is for those who persevere to the end, whenever that may come. But, certain sects have interpreted 'perseverance,' to mean 'fight to the end.'" 

    "Is this about Star Saber and his friends?" asked Pharma, internally.

    "Yes," replied Adaptus. "It delights me that they've taken the initiative to teach you. But I must warn you that they get carried away by their desire to fight. They forget that, although they're descendants of a warrior race, there are others among them whose purpose is to be a civilian. You are such a person. Do you remember when you fought the possessed one? Your first reaction was to interrupt his possession with noise, rather than cut him lengthways to immediately put an end to the conflict."

    "Do you want me to tell them they're wrong?" asked Pharma.

    "No," said Adaptus. "I just want to tell you that not everything they'll teach you is applicable to you because you aren't a warrior. You're literally the opposite; for the whole purpose of your being is to heal your fellow mech, while theirs is to maim. Their warrior practices help them spiritually, so it is for them to keep."

    As they spoke to each other, Star Saber whispered to Braver, "Why are his eyes pointed in the opposite direction?"

    "I believe that means he's commuting with Adaptus," replied Braver. "Though it seems like Pharma may be questioning Adaptus for the sake of clarification. They literally do not see eye to eye right now." He then whispered, "Please remind me that one of us has to tell him that, that's why wearing a visor is the superior choice. The wall-eyed look, as accurate as it is, can be a little unflattering."

    Star Saber nodded.

    "I thought his eyeballs needed to be recalibrated," whispered Blacker.

    After Adaptus then finished, he transformed into robot-mode and approached the Brainmasters. Now they knelt down, since they realized who he was. Adaptus quietly observed them; pleased that at least the faith in him was displaced to a satellite moon. Frowning, Adaptus said to them, "I have noticed something that I would like to draw your attention to. I apologize in advance if this topic is difficult to hear, especially if spoken by me."

    Smiling, Star Saber said to him, "Go ahead. There's nothing difficult about the matters of our faith."

    Adaptus smiled uncomfortably. However, he wasn't sure what disturbed him more – Star Saber's arrogant confidence or his naivety. Clearing his throat, Adaptus said, "As a Divine being, I'm capable of analyzing the multiverse. My findings are grim, to say the least, but that is to be expected from powerful and intelligent lifeforms who have conquered their homeland and annihilated others. However, I initially miscalculated the ruthlessness of our race, so I spent eons figuring out how to keep my promise without changing my original terms and conditions."

    Laster raised his hand and Adaptus allowed him to speak. Laster said to him, "Is this why you moved the location of Adaptica?"

    "No," replied Adaptus. "Adaptica was meant to move to wherever it was safest, just like its people. This is why my reincarnation was born in the godless land of Stanix. Long before any of you were conceived or thought of, a Rustic mech, consumed by Divine Wrath, took it upon himself to eviscerate one of those 'Functionists' who have defiled my cultus. Interestingly, this mech was not particularly religious, nor organized, and yet he was willing to listen to my word. After his crime, he fled the Sea of Rust. He changed his name and his alt-mode; acts that please me and earn my forgiveness. Soon afterwards, he started a new life in Stanix until it was time to reunite with the Allspark."

    Blacker's eyes widened. That anecdote alone was enough to condemn Functionists. And of course, it quickly became unclear if they were hearing Pharma ramble on, or if Adaptus was actually like that.

Chapter Text

    Back in Tyrest’s office, Tyrest decided to be frank with Impactor, since they were alone. (Impactor was a mech who liked to get to the point anyway.) Tyrest dropped his posh accent and told him, "Now that I’m very certain that Star Saber is gone, I’d be grateful if you helped me investigate Xaaron’s activities. I can make it worth your while."

    Impactor’s eyes widened. Although he knew Tyrest was from the Decepticon city-state of Tyrest, his thick accent caught Impactor by surprise. After a brief pause, Impactor casually replied, "They're trying to do two things – find an ancient city called 'Adaptica,' and figure out why there's a bunch of zombies spawning around. Xaaron suspects that these two matters are related, but refuses to believe it, because it involves a sacred city and the desecration of the dead. But he's somewhat hopeful since this holy doctor is here."

    Tyrest's eyes widened. But then Impactor was straightforward, as he strongly felt it was wrong to waste time on such serious matters. Tyrest sighed and replied, “Oh, so they know? Should’ve  guessed, since Xaaron is always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.”

    Impactor facepalmed, assuming that Xaaron was even more indiscreet about their interactions, than he previously imagined. (Xaaron loved running his mouth.)

    “Oh, believe me, I feel the same way,” chuckled Tyrest. “Those zombies and those ruins are inextricably linked. They should be left alone, it’s the only prudent thing we can do. There’s nothing we can do to fix the problem, anyway. We don’t have the power to cleanse the corruption, which is likely caused by Dark Energon. Even if you didn’t know the truth, I can tell that you just don’t want to deal with any of this undead nonsense, right?”

    “I don’t but sometimes I don’t have a choice in the matter,” replied Impactor. “It’s a hard truth that’s regrettably taken me a lifetime to accept. We all have a purpose in life and mine is righteous aft-kicking.”

    “Your particular life purpose is a gift bestowed upon the most deserving, treasure it,” said Tyrest. It was clear to him that Impactor was the ideal candidate to be Ultra Magnus’ substitute, and believed that no further testing was necessary. However, Tyrest was bound by the Tyrest Accord, therefore he had to obtain official documentation of Impactor’s qualifications. Tyrest then motioned for Impactor to either have a seat or relax in his alt-mode. 

    Impactor transformed. (It’s always good to transform regularly to keep the t-cog functioning normally. Xaaron often got so busy with his paperwork, that this was why his t-cog began to malfunction.) Impactor then rolled up next to Tyrest, who also transformed because he too needed to keep his t-cog in working order. Once both were nicely parked, Tyrest began to tell Impactor about the zombies. 

    According to Tyrest, he had always known something was amiss on Luna-1, since he first arrived. He often wondered what compelled his deceased conjunx, Nova Prime, to acquire this territory. The area always had a sinister, ominous atmosphere, as if it were warning him to flee or suffer the same fate.

    He quickly learned right away that he was recruited to befriend the inhabitants, which he did with ease, despite the fact that a small group of them rejected him. Still, Tyrest was a revolutionary and activist at heart, and never accepted things the way they were. But he also knew that others sensed his  inner sorrow and worried about upsetting him. So that’s why they tried, and failed to hide things from him. Tyrest was aware of this, so he quickly figured out how to get the information he needed, one way or another. 

    “…Oh, I understand,” nodded Impactor. “Autobot High Command tried hiding things from me all the time. They think I’m ignorant and simple because I was a humble laborer. I quickly realized it’s more convenient for them to keep thinking that, because they’d let down their guard assuming I don’t understand whatever they're talking about, and incriminate themselves. But I’ve noticed things have changed lately among their ranks, for the better.”

    Wanting to change the subject, because he had his own strong opinions about Autobot High Command, Tyrest asked Impactor, "Are you familiar with an organic named Verity Carlo?"

    "Yeah, that's Springer's pet," replied Impactor. "I don't know what species she is, but she's someone you need to keep your eye on. She comes off as the type who'd do things on her own instead of asking for help. I think Springer adopted her because Optimus Prime is very fond of those kinds of flesh creatures. Because all Springer has to do is conveniently pull out Verity, and Optimus is immediately amused."

    "I figured that was the case," said Tyrest with a sneer. "You can't trust anyone who values the life of organics over the livelihood of their fellow mech. I might even argue it's 'cringe,' to call such pets, 'little squish sparklings,' because every Autobot who I've seen interacting with that type of organic does this. Their attempt at virtue signaling, to imply that loving organics somehow makes them compassionate, sickens me." 

    Impactor nodded, and silently continued to be disappointed that Tyrest left the Autobot faction, because the Autobots needed more mechs who weren't afraid to say that Cybertronians were more important than organics, such as Earthlings. But then, the truth and political agendas mixed as easily as oil and water.

    Just then, there was a knock at Tyrest's door and Impactor both transformed to go answer it. The one at the door was Ten and he was pushing a serving cart. Looking at the wall clock because his HUD was beyond repair, Tyrest said to Impactor, “Time flies, it’s already lunchtime. Would you like to join us?”

    Not wanting to go back to his room and risk Xaaron tricking him into running an errand, Impactor said, “Sure.”

    Ten rolled up with the serving cart and Tyrest lifted the plate covers. They were having tomato soup and spring salad. (To the human senses, this meal consisted of a carcinogenic liquid with rocks in it, and thin sheets of various metallic alloys. Both the "soup," and the "salad" contained at least 30% energon as part of a nutritious meal.) Fortunately, Ten brought extra food, in case Tyrest was speaking to someone. 

    After they got seated, Tyrest served them some juice, which he kept in his mini-fridge. (The juice itself was also something extremely toxic to humans.) Impactor took a sip and the juice was not too sweet, just like he liked it.

    As they ate, Impactor asked, "I've seen signs everywhere, but what is Quintessence Day? I’ve been meaning to ask about that."

    "Ten!" replied Ten, as he eagerly began to explain the holiday to Impactor.

    It was essentially a historical holiday. According to the legislators’ elders, their forefathers discovered an abandoned city deep in a heavily forested area when they arrived on Luna-1 (around the late 2nd Era – early 3rd Era). The fate of the city inhabitants is unknown, but it appears that they abandoned their city suddenly, as many of their belongings were left as if they had been temporarily set aside. There are many theories regarding the inhabitants’ disappearance, but the most reasonable theory was that they were abducted by the Quintessons for cruel experimentation. Nevertheless, the forefathers moved into the city and made themselves at home, even though the previous owners had never returned.

    The city’s name was spelled with unusual letters not found in the Primal Vernacular alphabet. But in various texts found throughout the city, it was described as “The City of Adaptus”, which made sense since the god’s symbol was found throughout the city. Their forefathers' natural curiosity led them to study the abandoned texts. Their studies eventually led them to convert to the worship of Adaptus too. (As immigrants from Cybertron, they already knew about Primus and the rest of the Guiding Hand. It was the way that the city’s inhabitants worshiped Adaptus that had intrigued them.) Despite their strong desire for order, the forefathers were attracted to Adaptus' cunning manipulation. This was because they were also willing to do whatever it took  to survive, within reason.

    The forefathers lived peacefully in the city, which was reconstructed over the next several solar cycles and eventually transformed into an insecticon colony. They also continued the research and study of the original inhabitants' findings. It appeared that the inhabitants had been developing cloaking methods to protect themselves from hostile invaders. After all, Luna-1 was fertile land regardless of its climate region. It was abundant in energy. The abandoned texts warned of a grim future in which energy became scarce and encouraged energy conservation. The forefathers heeded the warning as advice and endeavored to develop energy-efficient technology.

    The Legislators' cloaking shield technology worked so well that it lulled Quintessons into a false sense of security; leading them to believe that it would be safe to establish their own colony on Luna-1 to spy on Cybertronians. However, they were soon ambushed and hunted down by the hungry Legislators. That's how Quintessence Day came to be; a simple holiday where Legislators cook up delicious Quintesson meat. (To this day, neither Tyrest nor Ten know how the Legislators manage to find enough Quintessons for their extravagant cookouts.)

    Narrowing his eyes, Impactor asked Ten, "Are you sure your forefathers aren't the ancient inhabitants themselves? From what I know of Mortilus Cultism, Mortilus sends his reincarnation to people to give them messages or make deals with them. Depending on the circumstance, there's times when the messenger or the recipient forgets what happened at the meeting. They say that Mortilus' divine power is so strong that part of the memory is erased. From what I know of Adaptica, they were taken to the heavens. It's possible that because of the strong circumstances, Adaptus erased their memories for their own good."

    "Ten…," replied Ten. Impactor's theory made sense to him. It wouldn't be surprising if his forefathers "rediscovered" their home and tried their best to resume living as they did in the Sea of Rust. But then, Ten was aware that the Legislators' elders were very prideful mechs, who'd never accept that their forefathers suffered memory loss, even if divinely inflicted.

    Of course, Impactor wasn't going to tell Xaaron about this. Even if Xaaron believed him, he would undoubtedly also be forced to demand physical evidence. Xaaron was coldly scrupulous when it came to any kind of investigation. (For this reason he was a good lawyer for his clients.) Impactor had no idea where to even get the evidence, so he decided to keep quiet. He took a sip from his soup bowl and covered his mouth to stifle a small burp. As much as he hated to admit, the mere mention of eating Quintessons immediately made him sick to his stomach.

Chapter Text

    Xaaron and Nightbeat decided to take a stroll in Tyrest’s private indoor garden. This garden contained many Cybertronian florae native to the city-state of Tyrest. Smiling, Nightbeat said, “This place sure looks different during the day.” He took a deep breath, since these plants naturally purified the air. He then turned to Xaaron and said, “If Impactor doesn’t want to be Ultra Magnus’ substitute, I wouldn’t mind…I mean, people tell me I look like him all the time.”

    “Nightbeat, I know this mech metally,” said Xaaron, who didn’t need to elaborate on how many times he bedded Impactor.  “Impactor is a mech of conviction, his determination as strong as the carbon bonds in a diamond.” Xaaron paused, as his spike suddenly became harder than a diamond for merely thinking about Impactor. “If he disagrees with something, he'll refuse to do it as soon as he understands the situation. However, it’s improbable that he’d refuse to do this job, as  he needs the money and I’m certain he believes in the Tyrest Accord too. He cares deeply for innocent civilians.”

    Suddenly, Xaaron’s communicable rumbled and he pulled it out of his subspace, before answering it. It was Impactor – his squarish face taking up most of the communicube’s screens.

    “Good news, I just passed that requirement quiz that Tyrest makes mechs take if they want to be Tyrest Accord Enforcers and Deputies,” said Impactor. “I’m calling because he said I have to take the real test tomorrow morning. So that means I’m not going to be able to go back to the Wreckers’ Base anytime soon. Do me a favor and tell the Wreckers this, please.”

    “Very well,” nodded Xaaron, “If you require any assistance in your studies, please let me know.”

    “Okay, bye,” said Impactor, as he disconnected the call.

    Turning to Nightbeat, Xaaron said, “See what I mean? Let’s step out for a bit, so I can call the Wreckers.”

    Nightbeat followed Xaaron out of the villa. As they walked out, a Legislator approached them with two small carryout bags. Nightbeat took them and thanked the Legislator. He was always amazed at how organized and attentive they were. Xaaron headed to the nearest bench and sat down, as Nightbeat took a look at the carryout bag’s contents.

    Xaaron immediately called the Wreckers' Base, Debris, in Nyon, momentarily forgetting about the time zone differences. Fortunately, since the Wreckers had such erratic sleep schedules, one of them was awake and immediately answered the call, since it was from Xaaron. Upon seeing the mech, Xaaron abandoned his cool and stoic façade and suddenly got very emotional – it was Springer. 

    Since Springer was still a bit out of it, he replied in his first language, Primal Vernacular. "My dear Emirate! I'm so glad to see you. How are you? They told me that Impactor is with you and just by looking at your face I'm happy he's having a great time."

    Knowing that despite having such a sweet face, Springer lost his innocence so young because of the war. But Springer was also a curious bot. (He always had been.) So he already knew too much about adult situations thanks to some of the Wreckers being careless with their Decepticon pulp fiction comics. 

    Shrugging, Xaaron, "You could say that. Listen, I'm calling to inform you that Impactor will stay for a while in Luna-1 to train as Ultra Magnus' substitute."

    "Hold up," replied Springer as he made a quick and literal mental note of this with his HUD. "One of my last memories was when Rodimus got sick and they had to paint me with his color scheme because we know each other so well. Even with my heavy Nyonian accent, no one recognized me. Ever since they were married, Ultra Magnus and Rodimus have been inseparable. So if you need a substitute Rodimus for your mission, I'm available."

    "I'll have to see what the Chief Justice wants first," said Xaaron. He nodded, "And yes, I'm doing well. Seeing you again makes me feel even better."

    As far as Xaaron was concerned, Springer and Rodimus were as different as night and day. Contrary to popular belief, Springer wasn't always crying over Impactor. (In fact, it was Rodimus who cried over Optimus, but this looked bad since he was also his successor.) Springer rarely cried because he simply had no time for it. But then, Springer was always such a cold-blooded prick, unlike the more passionate and emotional Rodimus. Whoever proposed Springer as a good substitute for Rodimus was a clearly misguided fool. (But then, it’s no surprise that Rodimus was the one to make this suggestion and insist on it.)

    "Emirate, I have a question," said Springer.

    "Go ahead," replied Xaaron. 

    "Where is Whirl?" asked Springer. "I asked everyone about him, and no one wants to tell me. If he's dead, that's part of life, so I understand. As a Nyonian Warrior, I separated many sparks from their frames, knowing that someday that fate shall befall me. Like the rest of us, Whirl believed the same."

    "Whirl tried to blow your head off with a rocket launcher, while you lay comatose in bed," said Xaaron. "Kup was upset that Whirl did this, so Whirl was asked to stay away from the base for his own safety."

    "…I had a feeling something like this may've happened," replied Springer. "As you may know, Kup and I are the last surviving members of our clan. I am his sparkling too, so…" Springer paused to wipe his right eye. "Is there a way I can get in contact with Whirl?"

    "No," said Xaaron. "He's currently onboard an expedition ship that's very far away. Rodimus is apparently the captain of this ship."

    "Oh well, at least it gives me a chance to plan some fancy 'forgiveness speech' to deliver, if I ever see him again," shrugged Springer. "The speech is mostly for Kup, to comfort him. He'll never forgive Whirl, unless he knows I've forgiven him. Whirl acted as a devout Mortilus Cultist should, and he's done nothing wrong in my eyes." He sighed and added, "Knowing that there's such hostility between them breaks my spark casing. Thank you for informing me, Emirate. I can always count on you for a cold slap of reality."

    "You're welcome," nodded Xaaron. He didn't like to see Springer upset either, but he felt Springer was owed the truth no matter how painful it was.

    "I better get going," said Springer, "Kup will nag my head off for calling someone so late. It's barely past midnight." He paused and finally said in Neocybex, "See you later, Emirate." 

    Xaaron waved him goodbye, as the call was disconnected. 

    Nightbeat, who had finished setting up Xaaron's lunch, asked him, "Why is he so different in Fisitron's Datalogs?"

    "Fisitron deliberately mistranslated the Nyonian Wreckers' Datalogs in hopes of turning their history into Autobot Propaganda to entice Neoprimalists to support us," said Xaaron as he took a bite of his sandwich. "As you may know, Neoprimalists despise Mortilus as they claimed he betrayed his brother, Primus…"

    As far as Xaaron was concerned, Springer, Kup, Impactor, Sandstorm, and Lifeline were the only Primalists among the Nyonian (Original) Wreckers. However, they respected Mortilus Cultist beliefs and occasionally partook in them. (This was what Fisitron was omitting.) 

    Xaaron continued, "…To make matters more confusing, the Turbomasters started calling themselves 'The Wreckers' too. This happened after they teamed up with The Wreckers, during Impactor's tenure. Impactor told me it was mostly Rack 'n' Ruin's idea. But the others also wanted to make the Turbomasters 'a permanent part of the team', so everyone just decided to go along with it. They occasionally have members 'float' between squads. That's why Rotorstorm went to Garrus-9."

    "Interesting," said Nightbeat. He took a bite of his own sandwich. "I was always curious as to why the Neocybex translations were way off. Good thing I sort of understand Primal Vernacular because the original Datalogs were so inspirational and heartfelt. I didn't even notice there was Mortilus Cultism until I read the Datalog about the blood sacrifice after that battle at Melted Bowl."

    "Kup and Springer actually wrote some of the Datalogs during their off-time," said Xaaron. "After all, they're both proud to be 'Traditional Nyonian Warriors,' so they believe that chronicling their battles, no matter their outcome, is a sacred act. Springer was also in the process of translating the Datalogs himself, for accuracy, but then he and the others went to Garrus-9."

    According to Xaaron, Springer believed that Fisitron's Datalogs were mistranslated because Primal Vernacular and Neocybex are two very different languages, making translation difficult. (This was one reason why everyone was so adamant in having Springer learn both languages at a young age.) Some time ago, Springer informed Xaaron of his personal translation project, and confessed how difficult it was to find Neocybex words that matched the somber tone of the original Primal Vernacular Datalogs. This experience led him to forgive Fisitron for his inaccuracies. (As Fisitron wasn't Nyonian, he wasn't privy to the cultural context of the Datalogs and the related anecdotes.)

    Xaaron and Nightbeat continued to have their lunch outside, while Springer returned to his bed and thought about Whirl, who was like a second dam to him. 

    On several occasions, Springer and Whirl had privately discussed their wishes, if they were gravely injured in battle. Whirl made it clear that he wanted Springer to permanently offline him immediately, because he longed to work the fields of the Necroworld as a helicopter who watered the Necrobot’s crops. Springer, on the other hand, was unsure of what he wanted. He knew that Kup would refuse to let go of him, as he lost almost everything in his life. But their Mortilus Cultist companions felt it was best to allow a spark to return to the Allspark as soon as possible, so Springer also respected their wishes. Springer lamented his indecisiveness for what had transpired. In his attempt to respect Kup, his silence caused him pain.

    Springer sat up in bed and walked over to Kup. He knelt down and politely pecked his cheek. Kup woke up and asked, "What is it lad?"

    "Forgive me for hurting you, Sergeant," whispered Springer.

    Kup shook his head and sat up, "Come here." He reached over and gave Springer a hug. 

Chapter Text

    Pharma was still at lunch with the Brainmasters. Ignorant about the Circle of Light’s practices, Pharma assumed that they enjoyed lengthy meals for the sake of fraternizing and strengthening their brotherly bonds. (The truth was that back in New Crystal City, Dai Atlas believed that everyone should have short, staggered mealtimes in order to ration the food. Star Saber was a strong believer in Divine Providence and saw rationing as a great sin against the people.)

    Without looking at Pharma, Braver said, “Most Holy Reincarnation of Adaptus, if you need to cry, do not be afraid. Nobody here will judge you.”

    As if on cue, Pharma began crying. Enough time had passed since he arrived at Luna-1 that he felt like he finally belonged; a feeling he had never experienced before and it overwhelmed him. Flyers are typically social Cybertronians, and yet Pharma was isolated for a long time. But now, he was around others who understood him and accepted him for who he was. Pharma was even reluctant to glance at the clock in his HUD, lest he be reminded that this luncheon would end.

    Star Saber shook his head. The only ones he wanted to judge and execute here were the ones who made Pharma feel bad. Casually, Star Saber said, “We need to teach you how to fight, even though you are a civilian. Do not think of this training as violence inflicted upon others, but rather a physical manifestation of the brotherhood we warriors share.”

    Grabbing a napkin to wipe his eyes, Pharma said, “Good luck, because I nearly failed Gym Class in all my years as a school-aged sparkling.” 

    "From what I remember, 'Gym Class' was just an activity checklist," said Galaxy Shuttle. "But the fighting lessons we want to give you are more than that. They improve your skills and strengthen your weaknesses. Since body and mind are linked, this training will also improve your morale."

    This all sounded too good to be true, but the Brainmasters never exaggerated their outcomes. 

    "I'll have to check my schedule at the medibay," said Pharma, as he tried to calm down.

    "That's alright," said Laster. "We can also plan your training around your job, so there wouldn't be any conflicts."

    "Our schedule is clear for this evening, if you wish to join us," said Blacker. "Don't worry, this evening's workout is light. We're just going to stretch and transform. Can't risk getting your joints stuck."

    Suddenly, Pharma’s comlink beeped and he answered it. It was Tyrest. Fortunately, Pharma had calmed down and said to him, “Good afternoon, Chief Justice…”

    Tyrest said, “Good afternoon, Dr. Pharma. My CMO just called to inform me that your medical license has expired. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to stop seeing patients until you’ve renewed it.”

    Pharma was taken aback. “I had no idea,” he said, embarrassed and ashamed. He had been a doctor since before the start of the war, and had never had his license expire before. Because of the war, the requirement for renewing licenses was suspended. Obviously, things had changed due to this latest ceasefire, and Pharma was determined to make things right. He said, “I’ll get right on it, but I’m not sure how.”

    “I understand this is an inconvenience,” Tyrest said, “but we have to protect our patients. I’m sure you understand. But, I’m pleased to inform you that I can make arrangements for you to take your renewal exam tomorrow morning, should you be interested.”

    “Of course,” nodded Pharma. “Where do I sign up?”

    “No need, I have your verbal permission to complete the registration on your behalf,” replied Tyrest. “All you need to do is show up before 8:00 AM. Testing supplies will be provided and there will be refreshments available during the scheduled breaks. Thank you and I appreciate your cooperation.”

    “Thank you for helping me get my license up to date,” smiled Pharma. “Bye.” He hung up the call. He turned to the Brainmasters, “This means I’ll have the day off tomorrow. Depending on how quickly I finish my test, I have the whole day to train.”

    “Take your time,” said Braver. “Your license is the most important. If you wish, we can help you study for the exam.”

    “Umm…I’d be honored,” said Pharma.

    As they were finishing their lunch, Pharma explained that before the war, medics went to their respective city-state medical board’s website to fill out the application for renewal, and paid the renewal fee. It used to take a few weeks for his license to be renewed, but the war changed everything and the process was now much faster.

    Meanwhile, Xaaron was in the middle of eating his salad when his comlink beeped. He looked down and saw that it was Tyrest calling. He sighed and put his fork down, knowing that he would have to take the call. But before he could reach for his comlink, Nightbeat, who was sitting next to him, grabbed it from the bench, and answered.

    "Hey, Tyrest," Nightbeat said. "Xaaron’s a little busy right now. Can I take a message?"

    Tyrest replied, “Yes, but if you would be so kind as to put this call on speakerphone, I’d appreciate it, if Xaaron is just eating.” Nightbeat turned on the speakerphone. Tyrest continued, “I’m pleased to report that Impactor has agreed to take the certification examination tomorrow morning. He’s currently on his way back to your room. However, I neglected to tell him that he’s going to be taking the exam with a group of other candidates who are also seeking certification.”

    “These candidates…are they Decepticons?” asked Xaaron.

    Tyrest chuckled. “Of course. After all, Councilman Flywheels is the one who recommended them. He has assured me that they’re a good group of mechs; the kind who genuinely believe that the Decepticons stand up for the working class. Pharma will also be taking his exam in the testing room at the same time. Due to the war, he is behind on his license renewal, just like every Cybertronian Healthcare Worker who is currently practicing medicine. Anode and Lug will also be taking their Teaching Certification Exams too.”

    “Alright then,” said Xaaron cooly. He was pleased to hear about Anode and Lug taking their exams too, because he was concerned that they're procrastinating on it. "Thanks, Tyrest. I appreciate it."

    Xaaron finished his lunch and then went back to his room with Nightbeat. Unlike Tyrest, he wasn't worried about Impactor taking his exam with a bunch of Decepticons. (In fact, he was relieved since Impactor would be there, and he could sit next to Pharma, who had confessed a fear of Decepticons.)

    As expected, Impactor was in the room waiting for them. However, he was busy reading one of the Decepticon-written Wreckers mangas, while lying on a couch with his legs crossed. Casually, he said to Xaaron, “I just realized that the Chief Justice draws exactly like this 'Toketron420' fella. I wouldn't be surprised if he was actually the author because the Chief Justice is one of the few literate people out there who understands the suffering of the ones who've been brutalized by dictatorship and war.”

    Nightbeat pulled out one of the Tyrest Accord brochures from his subspace and placed it next to the highly explicit comic page that Impactor was looking at. Nightbeat frowned when he realized that this was a mystery that was immediately solved before he even got a chance to investigate it. He asked Impactor, “So what are you going to do now?”

    “I don’t know,” said Impactor. “He'd probably dislike that I figured it out. But also, I'm sure he’d charge too much to take on a commission. The Wreckers have 'private' Datalogs that only the Nyonian Squad knows about. I'd love to see those as regular comics. But I'll give credit where credit is due; ‘Toketron420’ is the only non-Nyonian author to have captured the spirit of the Wreckers’ Original Datalogs. He understands that ‘the best way to celebrate victory is through catharsis’.”

    “Are you saying that the Datalogs are supposed to be sad?” asked Nightbeat.

    “Yeah,” replied Impactor. “Not sure why Autobots hate these sad stories. It’s good to cry it all out. That way you can enjoy everything else with a sense of relief, afterwards.”

    Nightbeat turned to Xaaron, who replied, “Having been around a lot of Autobots, I admit that my tastes are similar. We prefer escapism. This is because, like you, we were constantly fighting and dealing with dangerous situations too, so it’s nice to take a break and relax with something that isn’t as stressful.”

    “Yeah,” said Nightbeat, “At the bases I stationed, we watched old movies, played video games, and read books. All that took us away from the real world for a little while. It’s nice to recharge and come back to our duties refreshed, ready to face whatever challenges await us.”

    “Uh huh…,” replied Impactor, as he put away his manga because he finished that particular chapter. “Back in Debris, we just drank, watched old movies, or read whatever books we had on hand. Either these books were the sexy home-made kind we pickpocketed off of Decepticon soldiers or the ones Xaaron and Optimus sent to Springer, Sandstorm, and Broadside for their homeschooling.”

    Before Xaaron knew it, Impactor and Nightbeat started rambling on about old Golden Age movies. Fortunately, Pharma unlocked the door and entered. Smiling, Xaaron interrupted Impactor's conversation and said to him, "Tomorrow, you and Pharma are to go to the testing room for your exams."

    "Nice," chuckled Pharma. 

    "The Chief Justice has also informed me that there will be some Decepticons taking an exam too," said Xaaron. "I hope that's not a problem."

    "Nah, I don't mind," said Impactor. "The Chief Justice is careful with who he allows on his premises. Not worried about a bunch of misguided fools who worship a false idol."

    Pharma on the other hand, felt a little anxious. (But not quite, since Impactor was going with him.) Fortunately, his evening was quiet and he went to the chapel for the stretching exercises the Brainmasters had offered to train him with. Afterwards, Pharma went to bed early on Xaaron's insistence.

Chapter Text

    Accustomed to waking up early, Pharma and Impactor both went to the testing room before it was even open. They were both eager to take their respective exam, and get it over with. Impactor sat on the floor across from the testing room, and invited Pharma to sit next to him, which he did.

    Pharma was a skilled medic who was most well-known for miraculously saving patients’ lives in the riskiest of surgeries. This was one of the many reasons he was very interested in taking his exam to renew his license. (Like his mentor Ratchet, Pharma was also a talented engineer and occasionally had the privilege to help design and build a few of the Autobots' weapons and equipment.) He was used to waking up early, and then working long hours until the evening.

    Impactor, a former miner who occasionally worked as a field laborer, was a strong and powerful warrior who had fought in many battles. All he knew was that he had to wake up early and be ready for whatever challenges the day threw at him. According to the Wreckers’ [untranslated] Datalogs, Impactor was also a skilled pilot who had flown many dangerous missions, but he preferred to fight as a foot-soldier. Impactor had always said, “The ground calls me.” (It was the main reason he chose to sit on the floor.) 

    With their combined skills, the two of them could theoretically make a formidable team. (Something that Xaaron had been thinking about all evening, but kept to himself.) Both were confident that they would pass the exam. However, Pharma was still nervous about the other test takers, since Xaaron had mentioned that they're Decepticons. 

    Impactor turned to Pharma, and advised, “Listen, there’s no point in worrying about unnecessary things, like those other 'Con students, because you’re going to distract yourself and your performance will suffer, if you get distracted.”

    It was easy for Pharma to sass back, but he was aware of Impactor’s typical reaction to sass thanks to reading the original Datalogs. Instead, Pharma sighed and said, “I have survived Decepticon attacks against civilians. Even if they were ‘misguided fools,’ as you say, my initial reaction will always be unease.”

    “I understand,” nodded Impactor. “I’d suggest you tell the Chief Justice that you’d like to sit next to me. It’s impossible for us to copy each other's answers because we’re taking totally different tests. I hope that having me by your side it'll make you feel like I’ve got your back.”

    Pharma smiled, but Impactor already knew he'd be the one to say something about it instead. Before Pharma had a chance to reply, Tyrest and Xaaron had entered the hallway, arriving at the testing room with Lockdown, and the testing materials in hand. Pharma flinched as soon as he saw Lockdown because he remembered getting choked by him, upon arriving on Luna-1.

    They were greeted by Xaaron, who was one of the proctors for the exam. The Tyrest Accord stipulated that candidates for the certification exam needed additional proctors, one representing the Autobots and one representing the Decepticons. This was why Tyrest called in Xaaron and Lockdown to serve as these proctors.

    Although Autobot Propaganda stated that Emirate Xaaron was a skilled warrior, he was never meant to personally engage in physical combat. However, he was an excellent strategist and a wise counselor. He was also a close friend of Optimus Prime. (For this reason, Xaaron disliked when Tyrest made negative comments towards Optimus, particularly when he compared Optimus to Megatron.)

    Lockdown was the other proctor for this early morning exam on Luna-1. He was known for being a skilled bounty hunter. His ruthlessness and his willingness to do whatever it takes to get the job done influenced Tyrest’s decision to accept him as the Duly Appointed Enforcer for the Decepticons. More importantly, Lockdown was a professional who doesn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of his work. But this didn’t stop him from being annoyed to show up so early because he had gotten used to waking up late. (He was also paid extra for proctor duty, and he knew better than to turn down the extra paycheck.)

    However, Tyrest didn't tell him that the Autobot candidate who needed to get his certification was Impactor. So of course, Lockdown was taken aback when he saw Impactor sitting on the floor, chatting with Pharma. Likewise, Impactor immediately recognized Lockdown too, but remained calm.

    Tyrest helped both Impactor and Pharma up, before unlocking the door. 

    Impactor turned to Tyrest and immediately asked, “Chief Justice, is it okay if Pharma sits next to me during the test?”

    Sensing his intention, Tyrest replied, “Sure, go ahead.” He then turned his attention to Lockdown and said to him, “Fortunately, we have time to eat a light snack before the testing begins. Councilman Flywheels informed me that he told his candidates that the test starts at 7:00 AM, since they go by Tyrestan time.” 

    Lockdown rolled his optics and sighed in exasperation, knowing that this meant that they’d be running late, and thus had been told to come one hour early in order to arrive on time. Tyrest didn’t seem to mind, since he was biased towards his own people. (Flywheels insisted that these mechs were of Tyrestan descent, even if they completely lacked the Tyrestan accent.)

    As Impactor took a seat, he motioned to Xaaron and Pharma to come over. He pointed at the desk with his left thumb, so Pharma could sit between him and the window. Impactor then leaned over to his right and whispered to Xaaron, "Isn't that the 'Con with the plastic surgery addiction? I remember running into him every once in a while and he always looked different every time I saw him."

    "Yes," mumbled Xaaron. 

    "What happened to Flywheels?" asked Impactor. "I liked him."

    "He suffered a career ending injury and is now retired," replied Xaaron. 

    Impactor frowned, but was relieved that Flywheels wasn't dead. He also knew better than to say his opinions out loud – that by choosing Lockdown, as the Decepticon Enforcer, meant that Megatron didn't have any other good responsible people in his faction. (As far as Impactor was concerned, the only other good and responsible Decepticon he met was Soundwave, who was too valuable for Megatron to select as the Tyrest Accord Enforcer.)

    Still sleepy, Lockdown whispered to Tyrest quietly, "What's Impaler doing here?"

    In the Decepticon-written Wreckers hentai mangas, mangakas changed Impactor's name to "Impaler," to avoid accusations of spreading Autobot Propaganda. However, many Decepticons believed that Impaler really was his name. Knowing this context very well, Tyrest replied, "The Emirate summoned him. I need a substitute Ultra Magnus to protect a gala, since the real one cannot take this assignment."

    Just then, there was a knock on the door.

    “Come in,” said Tyrest.

    The auxiliary teachers, Anode and Lug walked in. 

    Anode, the former Tyrest Accord Deputy who worked under Minimus Ambus. As a faithful worshiper of Adaptus, she believed that she should seize whatever opportunities arise. For this reason, she applied to work on behalf of the Tyrest Accord, even though she had completed her apprenticeship in blacksmithing. Her faith was ultimately tested when she and her team were ambushed by Scorponok’s team and completely dismantled. As soon as they were gone, she took the opportunity to teleport safety. She decided to pursue education afterwards and discovered this was her true calling.

    Lug, another former Tyrest Accord Deputy who worked under Minimus Ambus. She graduated as a Geologist from Iacon’s Academy of Science and Technology, but struggled to find work. She was eventually hired by Tyrest and assigned to work with Anode and Minimus. She was in charge of handling the documentation for their investigations, something she enjoyed doing as a Recordabot. She has no memory of the ambush and believes this was probably for the best. She had grown close to Anode during their time as deputies, and resigned to be with Anode wherever she went.

    Smiling, Anode said to Tyrest, “Good morning, Chief Justice!”

    “Good morning,” said Tyrest. “You two are the only ones taking the teaching certification exam today. I’d like the two of you to sit in the front row, away from each other.” Turning to Lug, Tyrest said, “Please check if you have any teaching material on you and turn it in to me, before you get seated.”

    “Hold on,” said Lug, as she analyzed her data.

    Meanwhile, Anode took a seat near Impactor and Pharma. She only recognized Pharma and put her water bottle on her desk before walking over to him. Because she had moved to Kalis before the war worsened, she didn't recognize Impactor. (But Anode had heard of him.) She said to Pharma, “You’re taking a test too?”

    “Yes,” sighed Pharma. “Yesterday, it came to my attention that I need to renew my medical license. I’ve been told there’s other mechs coming in for testing too.”

    “Of course!” nodded Anode. “The Chief Justice is going to be leaving for the Sea of Rust today, so he wants to get things in order before he’s gone. It’s weird that he’d miss out on Quintessence Day, but as they say, ‘Justice never sleeps’.”

    “His departure is intentional,” interrupted Impactor. “Assuming he’s the same breed as the wily old buzzard, the smell of cooked Quintesson is very nauseating to him. Xaaron will also be leaving Luna-1 with Tyrest and his son. I'll be leaving with them too, since I require additional training to be a substitute Enforcer.”

    Concerned, Pharma asked, “What about Nightbeat and the Brainmasters?”

    “They’ll be staying on Luna-1,” replied Impactor. “But we plan to return in a few days, if Mortilus wills it.”

    Just then, Lug ran up to Anode and then asked Impactor, “Impactor???”

    Impactor just looked down at her.

    Excited, Lug said to Anode, “He’s the former leader of the Nyonian Wreckers Squadron! The one who coined their catchphrase, ‘Wreck n Rule’.” She turned to Impactor and asked, “I also heard you were close to Megatron, is this true?”

    “Yes,” sighed Impactor. “I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't like talking about him much. It still pains me to remember how much he's changed over the years. The mech you see now is not the mech who grew up with me in the mines. It's hard to believe that he was once like a brother to me.”

    Lug frowned. As Impactor had guessed, being straightforward and blunt was the only way he’d stop her from asking additional questions. (But also, Impactor felt he needed to take the opportunity to vent about the loss of his friend, whenever it was appropriate.)

    Just then, Xaaron approached them with small complementary cups of green cinnamon loop cereal, soaked in water. 

    These "cinnamon loops" were made of malachite. When dipped in water, they released a deliciously sweet cinnamon (copper) taste that Cybertronians enjoyed. They happily ate their cereal while they waited for the Decepticon test takers to show up. 

Chapter Text

    Just as Xaaron handed the first cereal cup to Impactor, there was a knock on the door and Lockdown went to answer it. As a bounty hunter, Lockdown was very familiar with other Decepticons. However, all his knowledge of who's who didn't prepare him to see that the Scavengers were the test takers that they'd been waiting for.  

    The Scavengers were another one of Megatron's "Elite Teams" who had a notorious reputation for bringing mayhem and misfortune wherever they went. (This is why Decepticon High Command sent them to the most dangerous missions against the Autobots.) Originally, they were Flywheel’s “Deputies,” but unofficially as they lacked the certification required by the Tyrest Accord. Because of this, there were times that Flywheels worked alone since he was contractually obligated by the Tyrest Accord to help Cybertronians in need, regardless of faction affiliation. It’s believed he was ambushed and destroyed after helping a group of non-Cybertronians. Afterwards, the Scavengers were offered an opportunity to become proper Deputies but they declined it back then. (Lockdown was mostly surprised to see that they changed their minds.)

    The 1st Scavenger to enter the testing room was their leader, Krok, who was roughly Lockdown's age. Before the Great War, a rising star in the Cybertronian Football League. (First draft pick and had attended college with a sports scholarship.) But the war broke out and he was forced to give up his promising career on the Mecha-Soccer Field for the battlefield. Krok had brought his pet Alloygator and Action Master Partner, Gatoraider, to the testing room. After signing in, he greeted Tyrest and handed Gatoraider to him, before taking a seat. 

    Lug immediately recognized Krok, but she was unaware of his association with the Scavengers. (There was a rumor that he would return to the Mecha-Soccer Field during a ceasefire.)

    The 2nd Scavenger to enter the testing room was Crankcase. Autobots and Decepticons alike saw him as an irritable and violent mech who shot first and asked questions later. (He was not always like this, but after surviving having his head sliced in half, his personality was bound to change.) He was also Flywheel's childhood friend, and agreed to take this exam if passing it guaranteed him Disability Pension. Crankcase signed in and sat towards the middle of the testing room. 

    The 3rd Scavenger was Spinister. Both Impactor and Pharma were somewhat familiar with him, as he used to be Wheeljack's old lab partner back in college. Even before the war, Spinister was a saboteur. He always tried to figure out a way to make things blow up on purpose. (And this was why Wheeljack hated him.) After surviving an explosion he couldn't escape, Spinister decided to study medicine with various Decepticon field medics, and now served as the Scavengers' medic. Surprisingly, he's kept his medical license up to date. He took a seat in the front, next to the door.

    The 4th Scavenger was Misfire, who came in holding his newborn sparkling gunformer named Aimless. Xaaron knew the most about Misfire, but he didn’t know that Misfire was recently sparked. (Xaaron was partially disturbed since Misfire was roughly Rodimus’ and Springer’s age. He felt Misfire was too young to be having sparklings.) Misfire was said to have been born with an extremely rare teal spark, meaning he was more powerful than a regular Cybertronian. This, mixed with his reputation of instantly becoming a danger to society whenever he was given a firearm, made him a formidable opponent. 

    The 4.5th Scavenger was Aimless, completely unknown to everyone except the Scavengers. He was a Cybertronian neonate with no known criminal record. Born during a ceasefire, it’s unknown if he and other sparklings of his generation would have the privilege of growing up in a world where the horrors of war are a faint, distant memory. Aimless had been crying inconsolably after arriving on Luna-1 since he sensed the Scavengers’ test anxiety. Some Legislators wanted to send him to the Nursery, but decided that he’d feel better in the testing room. Misfire handed Aimless to Xaaron, and Aimless immediately stopped crying and cooed happily.

    The 5th Scavenger was Fulcrum, formerly known as Pivot, was a Tecnoist – believing the superiority of robotic lifeforms over organic ones. This compelled him to seek an apprenticeship in Cyberforming, but this decision caused him unexpected marital problems. Logically, Pivot immediately filed for divorce and dedicated his life to his job. However, his dedication to work was put to the test when his whole company decided to ally themselves with the Decepticons. Pivot could never bring himself to trust Megatron, and eventually jealous coworkers accused him of treason. Pivot fled before he was arrested and changed his name to “Fulcrum,” which is what he wrote in the sign-in sheet. 

    As Xaaron was busy holding the sparkling, Lockdown was obliged to serve the Scavengers their cereal. This irritated him more, as he felt he wasn't being paid to be anyone's servant. However, Lockdown remembered that Tyrest gave bonuses to anyone who was mentioned positively in the questionnaires, so he literally couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Lockdown made sure that everyone got their cereal quickly and efficiently so the Scavengers would be happy and would give him a good review. He also wanted to make sure that he didn't spill any cereal, as that would also reflect poorly on him. As a result, he moved quickly and carefully between the desks as he handed out the cereal. (Although Lockdown didn’t want to admit to it, he was relieved when everyone seemed to be satisfied with his service.)

    Now that everyone was seated, mostly apart from one another, and finishing up their cereal. Tyrest spoke to them. “Good morning, everyone. I am pleased to see that you have all arrived early to complete your exams. It’s better to finish a task as soon as possible than to procrastinate and become distressed as time passes. You’ll be provided with breaks every hour, and if you need extra testing supplies, please raise your hands. First thing’s first, who has never taken a standardized test before? Please raise your hands.”

    Impactor, Crankcase, and Misfire raised their hands. But Misfire felt embarrassed because most mechs his age were expected to be proficient in taking Standardized Tests. However, he had faced many academic difficulties because he struggled to read. (Plus, his classmates and teachers always bullied him for having a blue visor. So Misfire was often forced to skip class to avoid his bullies. The only reason he managed to graduate was because his school got bombed by the Autobots.)

    Xaaron stood up, with Aimless in his arms, and explained, “Your exams are basically the same since they consist of two parts: a written exam and a practical exam. The written exam would test your knowledge of the Tyrest Accord, medical, and education principles. The practical exam would test your skills in your specialty. However, today we will only be focusing on the written exam.”

    Pharma and Impactor were confident that they would pass the exam. They had studied hard and they were prepared for anything. Meanwhile, Misfire was trembling with anxiety, having misunderstood Xaaron and thought that the test would cover “medical and education principles” too. The test hadn’t even begun, and Misfire was already lamenting his impending failure. He was so nervous, he didn’t even realize that Xaaron had slowly walked up to him, until Xaaron poked him on the right temple with his right index finger, and Misfire’s blue visor immediately dropped down.  

    Casually, Xaaron leaned in and whispered to Misfire, “Compose yourself, lad. If Councilman Flywheels believes you're a suitable candidate, then I'm sure you'll perform on this test. Simply reflect on what you would do if you were working as a deputy. You’re also allowed and encouraged to use your visor, since it helps you see better.”

    Misfire looked at Xaaron and gulped, but his gaze was immediately drawn to Aimless who looked at him. Misfire sighed and realized that he needed to try his best for his sparkling. Taking a deep breath, Misfire opened the test booklet and imagined himself as a deputy while he answered the questions. (Fortunately, Misfire was imaginative-enough for this to work.) 

    A couple of days ago, when the rescued Cybertronians were taken from Luna-1 to the Sea of Rust, the Scavengers took advantage of the decreased border security, and sneaked right in with their ship The Weak Anthropic Principle (WAP). They had been wanting to go to the city-state of Tyrest because it was a Decepticon combat-free zone, and their friend Flywheels happened to live there. (Crankcase, Spinister, and Krok missed him.) 

    But also, Misfire was due to give birth soon, and Crankcase was hoping that the sparkling would be born in Tyrest, so he could get all the privileges a Tyrestan citizen had the right to receive. The excitement of successfully crossing the border was enough to induce Misfire into labor and he was rushed to the nearest hospital. (Of course, this pretty much blew the Scavengers’ cover.) Luckily, Flywheels was still compelled by his instincts as a Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, and was the first member of the authorities to arrive at the hospital to investigate the situation. Since he recognized his old friends, he was able to convince local law enforcement that the Scavengers were legally allowed to be in Tyrest because they were staying with him.

    In an attempt to further cover up his little lie, Flywheels got in contact with the Chief Justice and used all his charisma to convince him to allow his former informal deputies to get their certification, as soon as Misfire was discharged from the hospital. Since Flywheels’ intentions were pure, all of this worked out.

    Misfire was still weak from giving birth, but he had been in worse conditions during battle. The past few days were a bit of a blur for him, but he distinctly remembered Flywheels saying that Tyrest Accord Deputies could also get a free education. From what Misfire remembered about school; it seemed like it’d theoretically be pleasant, but everyone else was absolutely awful and unfair to him. His guts were telling him that perhaps this time it would be different and he’d be a fool to squander this opportunity.

    Since Misfire was sitting towards the back, Xaaron decided to sit nearby with Aimless, as he watched over the test takers.

Chapter Text

    It is said that honor and deception mix like oil and water, so it was no surprise that Fulcrum attempted to cheat on his exam. (After all, the Scavengers were Decepticons and they had a tendency to do things “the quick and dirty way.”) Like Misfire, he too was worried about failing because he didn't know anything about being a Duly Appointed Deputy of the Tyrest Accord, because he joined the Scavengers after Flywheels had retired.

    For this reason, Fulcrum decided to sit in the last row of the testing room, and lowered his goggle visor, to get a better view of everyone else’s tests. As a K-Class Bombformer, Fulcrum had excellent vision, being able to zoom-in and zoom-out with ease [to more accurately strike his targets].

    Although Misfire was sitting just one row and two seats away from him, Fulcrum didn’t want to cheat off of Misfire’s test because Misfire was scatterbrained. (Misfire was also the least literate member of the Scavengers.) 

    Instinctively, Fulcrum wanted to copy off of Spinister, since he worked with Flywheels the longest and had actual experience as a Deputy. However, after seeing Tyrest providing Lug with a Privacy Divider, Spinister requested one too. So Spinister's exam was blocked from Fulcrum's view. Crankcase also asked for a Privacy Divider, but mostly because he thought it was unfair that Lug and Spinister had one and he didn't. Since Krok was sitting directly in front of Crankcase, his exam got blocked by Crankcase’s Privacy Divider too, even though he wasn't using one. 

    Unable to copy off his teammates, Fulcrum turned to Impactor. Although he didn't recognize Impactor at all, he could tell that Impactor was an intelligent and ruthless mech, with little patience for disrespect. He was also the kind of mech who'd be perfect as an actual Enforcer, because he also seemed blessed with natural leadership abilities. However, Fulcrum wasn’t able to see Impactor’s exam either, because Impactor had a very wide frame which blocked his test from view.

    But next to Impactor, was Pharma whose exam was clearly visible since he did little to hide it. Not once did Fulcrum think that Pharma might be taking a completely different test, after he began to copy his answer choices exactly. Besides, Fulcrum had heard that the Tyrest Accord was desperate to hire more medics, but it was difficult. A lot of them refused to treat injured mechs who weren't from their own faction. (Spinister was partially guilty of this, but he was willing to charge Autobots and neutrals for his services since the Scavengers always needed money.)

    And yet, what distracted Fulcrum the most was that Xaaron moved to the back row too, just one seat away. Fulcrum knew exactly who Xaaron was; the Chairman for the Autobot High Council, and a notoriously strict individual. He was unsure whether it was because he knew of Xaaron's austere reputation or the fact that he  was a tankformer, but Fulcrum was definitely feeling nervous. To make matters worse, it seemed that Xaaron sensed his fear because he pulled out a small book and casually started to read it, making it clear that he was going to stay there for the duration of the exam. Not wanting to draw too much attention to himself or his scheme, Fulcrum lightly filled in his answer choices and pretended to review them, as he waited for Pharma to finish up his pages.

    Fulcrum was partially correct about his assumption of Xaaron. (The emirate really did think that Fulcrum was likely to cheat on his exam.) However, Xaaron was more concerned about Misfire, who was very anxious about his own exam. Xaaron believed that a student’s exam performance should be solely based on their knowledge of the material, not  on their level of anxiety. He hoped that by sitting nearby, Misfire would relax just enough that all he had to worry about was doing his best for the exam. 

    Meanwhile, Pharma tried to channel Adaptus to help him with his exam, since it had been literal eons since he had taken such a test and needed a refresher. But, it seemed that Adaptus refused to come to his aid. In fact, Pharma heard a small voice in his head saying, “Sorry lad, you have to figure this one out on your own.”

    Since it wasn’t against the rules, Pharma desperately searched through his own internal hard drive for some old songs he used to listen to while he studied. He hoped that listening to them would bring back memories of the course material. (But he worried he may’ve purged his music collection, since there was just so much stuff to remember.) Luckily, he was able to find the tracks he was looking for and began to play them in his mind.

    Impactor, on the other hand, briefly turned to look at Pharma and sighed – relieved that he was taking a Tyrest Accord Enforcer exam instead of a medical one. Unlike Pharma, Impactor had finished the first part of the exam and was just patiently waiting for the break, as he reviewed his answers. As far as he was concerned, his test was the easiest one he'd ever taken in his life; it asked straightforward questions with basic multiple choice answers to choose from. 

    Before the exam began, Impactor recalled a testing tip that Xaaron had given to his fellow Wrecker, Broadside, when he was a little sparkling. According to Xaaron, who had come to visit them one day, he advised Broadside to hide the multiple-choice options so he would only focus on the question being asked. After thinking about the possible answer, the test taker would then look at the choices and select the closest one. Impactor tried this and quickly made his way through his exam. However, he also remembered another testing tip he had learned from Springer. 

    From a young age, Springer was an exceptionally intelligent individual. (Springer's intelligence surprised all the adults, who often wondered where he inherited it.) However, Impactor noticed that Springer was always the last one to finish his written tests. Concerned, Impactor once asked Springer what was wrong, so he could help him. But Springer told him, "I finish quickly, but I like for it to be quiet. So I pretend I'm still writing while waiting for Sandstorm to finish. Please don't tell anyone else I do this, especially the Emirate, because he'd scold me."

    Impactor empathized with Springer's reclusive nature, and enjoyed silence too. (Ironically, his isolation at Garrus-9 hardly turned out to be a punishment since he hated everyone else there. He was relieved that he didn't need to talk to them anymore.) He longed for silence from a very young age. In his isolation, he realized that what bothered him the most were certain idealistic conversations that were clearly not down-to-earth . Most of these talks, unfortunately, came from his close childhood friend, Megatron. 

    Unfortunately, it was very difficult for Impactor to be able to express his opinions. In these past instances, he disliked the fact that Megatron was so fanciful and for those reasons, Megatron coveted things not meant for him. Impactor always believed that this was wrong, because wanting what others have often compelled someone to do bad things. Therefore, Impactor naturally felt compelled to dissuade Megatron from such thoughts. Regrettably, Impactor's pragmatic nature, and naïve ignorance led him to believe that the only way to dissuade Megatron from his ideals was to ridicule him, which caused the rift between them.

    During his imprisonment, Impactor constantly thought about his falling out with Megatron, as well as other things. (He was also thinking about it while sitting at his desk during this exam.) Early on, Impactor felt that he had wronged Megatron, although his intentions in trying to “save him” were pure. Eventually, Impactor had to accept that Megatron was without remedy, since he was too ambitious for his own good and there was nothing Impactor could do about it. (No matter the timeline continuity, Megatron was always destined to become some sort of egotistical despot.) Although Impactor’s spark longed to apologize to Megatron and receive his forgiveness, his conscience was at peace regarding the matter. Impactor felt he had done the right thing by refusing to be Megatron’s enabler. But still, his clear conscience didn’t do much to make him feel better about losing someone he considered to be his first best friend. Impactor eternally mourned their lost friendship.

    These regrets also affected Impactor's other relationships, particularly the one he has with Xaaron. He was very ashamed to admit that Xaaron reminded him a lot of Megatron; not just in appearance but also in his fanciful temperament. However, aside from his fragile health and shortness, the qualities that made Xaaron very different from Megatron were his humility and selflessness. Xaaron was always eager to help others and didn't care to be credited or even thanked. Despite the hardships that the Great War brought upon everyone, Xaaron still helped others and wasn't burned out by it. It was even apparent in the testing room, as Xaaron was always the first to get up and assist the test takers. 

    Suddenly, Lockdown spoke, interrupting Impactor's train of thought. "Put down your styluses, it's time for your mandatory break."

    The other testers were quick to put away their exams, while Impactor remained in his seat. He couldn't help but feel disappointed that his quiet time was over. 

    He turned to his left and spotted Xaaron approaching him. Impactor sighed, "What is it?"

    "I'm just coming to check up on you," said Xaaron. "You can stand and stretch your legs."

    Impactor nodded and got up. However, his joints cracked so loudly that everyone turned to look at him. But Impactor didn't notice because the cracking hurt, and reminded him that he forgot to lubricate his knees earlier that morning, before he left for the testing room.

Chapter Text

    Time had flown by, that it was now break time. For the sake of convenience, their break was being held in a separate room where food and drinks were available. (Tyrest immediately mentioned that all refreshments were free of charge, as soon as everyone else was getting up from their seats.) Almost all of the test takers were in this other room, except for Impactor and Xaaron.

    Looking up at Impactor, Xaaron asked him, “Don't you want to grab a coffee?”

    “Yeah, but I also want to be alone,” mumbled Impactor. “I'm not in the mood to listen to other mechs’ conversations.”

    “I understand,” nodded Xaaron. “If you want, when you finish the second part of your exam, you can go to the break room and stay there for a while by yourself.”

    Impactor narrowed his eyes, but he said nothing. Impactor was admittedly surprised that Xaaron noticed that he had finished quickly. (However, he knew that Xaaron’s careful observation was such that nothing escaped his notice.) He replied, “That’s fair.”

    Both of them entered the break room together, but went unnoticed, as the other test takers were gathered in groups, busy chatting with each other. Xaaron was amused that Pharma was happily chatting with Misfire. (But then, both of them were jets, so it seemed their breed took precedence over their respective factions.)

    Casually, Pharma said to Misfire, "…True Tech Specs are determined by the Brain Module, Spark, and T-cog. I want to ask the Chief Justice for permission to let me modify my T-cog. While taking my exam, I suddenly realized that I need to have a more efficient T-cog. Some Paladins are wanting to teach me how to sword fight, but I’m built like a civilian."

    “Sword fight?” asked Misfire. “Firearms are better, because they’re faster and do way more damage in a short amount of time. There’s a reason you don’t bring a sword to a gunfight, the time it takes to unsheath a sword, the others already gunned you down. But sword fights are nice to watch, so I understand wanting to learn it as a sport.”

    Overhearing their conversation, Fulcrum said to Misfire, “No offense, but of all people, you are the last one who should be talking about the efficiency of firearms.” Turning to Pharma, Fulcrum said, “His name is Misfire and it is apt . We dispatch him when our battles are going on too long, and we immediately duck for cover.”

    “We still win though,” said Misfire, annoyed that Fulcrum embarrassed him in front of a licensed medical professional.

    “That just sounds like he’s using an inappropriate weapon,” replied Pharma. “Because we’re of a warrior race, each of us is born with a specific proficiency in certain martial tactics. I’m skilled at using small knives and pistols, but terrible at handling swords. Believe me, I’ve tried. So that’s why I want to see if I can modify my T-cog to allow me to better use swords.”

    “Is it possible for you to diagnose what type of weapons would be best for me, then?” asked Misfire.

    “Yes,” said Pharma, who immediately regretted answering, since he was talking to a pair of Decepticons. However, he felt it was also his duty to help a fellow Cybertronian understand their function, regardless of faction or political ideology.

    Fulcrum added, “Yeah, please tell us why his accuracy is so awful.”

    “Let me scan you,” said Pharma as he began to scan Misfire. Medics, like Pharma, have a specially-trained T-cog which allows them to scan other mechs, as if they were scanning for an alt-mode, and calculate an approximate diagnosis. (Spinister, who worked as the Scavengers’ team medic, didn’t have this type of training but he wished he did.) After Pharma finished, Misfire and Fulcrum both eagerly waited for the results as Pharma was trying to figure out how to reveal his findings.

    Crossing his arms, Fulcrum asked, “If it’s not too much trouble, can you diagnose me too? I wasn’t always a K-Class Bombformer.”

    Xaaron, who had also overheard Pharma, approached them but stood quietly nearby. He too was curious about the results.

    Trying his best to maintain a calm, professional appearance, Pharma said, “You’re meant to be a swordsman. You have the dexterity to wield an assortment of bladed weapons and frankly, I’m jealous.”

    “Nooo!” cried Misfire, who placed his sparkling, Aimless, inside his cockpit, and transformed. Misfire drove away on his wheels to another corner where Anode was talking to Lug. What upset him was the fact that he knew in his spark that Pharma replied to him with the utmost sincerity. (Misfire wanted to be a gunslinger so badly, but it just wasn't meant to be.)

    Pharma frowned, but also felt relieved. Misfire's reaction meant that he was too obstinate, for whatever reason, to learn how to sword fight. (In other words, his diagnosis wouldn’t help the Decepticon Cause, as Misfire clearly rejected the findings.) However, Pharma still had to diagnose Fulcrum, who seemed to be very eager in following any indications given to him.

    Unlike Misfire, Fulcrum was difficult to diagnose in this manner because he had undergone an alt-mode surgery. Normally, mechs don't need surgery to completely change their alt-mode, such as going from flier to grounder. But in the cases of T-cog-related illnesses or torture, such surgeries were performed. Given that Fulcrum was a Bombformer, Pharma assumed the latter. Unfortunately, the break room was far too public to discuss this with him. Even if Pharma tried to speak with Fulcrum via radio signal, there's a chance that someone else could intercept the message.

    Luckily, Pharma didn't even need to say anything because Fulcrum immediately realized that Pharma confirmed that he wasn't naturally a Bombformer. Shaking his head, Fulcrum said to him, "Yeah…I wasn't always like this. I don't care if others know about it. What happened, happened."

    Although Pharma nodded solemnly, inwardly he was annoyed. He had hoped that this answer would've prevented him from diagnosing Fulcrum further. Pharma said to him, "Very well, now it means I'll have to try to scan your spark and read its wavelength. Some patients find this uncomfortable."

    "Can't be as uncomfortable as how Bombformers get packed into crates together, tighter than Selenium Sardines," chuckled Fulcrum.

    Shaking his head as he desperately tried to maintain his composure, Pharma took a deep breath to begin scanning Fulcrum. He punched Fulcrum in the chassis, causing his spark case to open. Pharma opened his own, and stood at an extreme proximity from him. Just as Pharma had said; this type of scanning was very intimate. Their sparks nearly touched. 

    Visually, Fulcrum immediately saw himself as if he were drawn by a glowing gassy light blue outline. Pharma had a stark white outline. It was extremely brilliant and intense, practically divine. Fulcrum immediately wanted to flee but was prevented from escaping. 

    Pharma spoke, but his voice sounded faintly overlaid with someone else's. He said to Fulcrum, "The earth calls you. That's why Primus created you as a simple Earth-Boring Vehicle who is meant to spend his time digging. But others have forced you to become a Bomb that descends from great heights to fall to the ground. Despite this, you still managed to answer the earth's call."

    “Yeah…that’s true,” nodded Fulcrum. “I guess you’ve figured out that my name isn’t ‘Fulcrum’ either, but ‘Pivot.’ Long story, but to sum it up; if you ever decide to get into a relationship with somebody, don’t ever get close to anyone that makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells around them. I made that mistake because I thought I was unlovable. My ex was the kind of controlling, scheming mech who’d make sure everyone believed he was always the victim. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who manipulated the courts into rebuilding me as a Bombformer…”

    Pharma frowned, because he literally didn’t want to know about Fulcrum’s…Pivot’s personal life. But Fulcrum…Pivot was so upset that he couldn’t do anything about his situation, that he settled for complaining to whoever pried a little too deeply. This mech was over his ex – their relationship was virtually destroyed forever. What he wasn’t over were the lasting effects of his forced alt-mode change. He blamed this on his ex, who gave him justifiably good reasons to do so but was the ex really the one to accuse? Like Pharma, Fulcrum’s former coworkers were envious of his skills, and justified their hatred of him on Fulcrum’s inability to perfectly socialize to their demands. Such people would somehow figure out how to work harmoniously as a team in order to get their unwanted coworker fired.

    Suddenly, there was a bright flash as Pharma immediately moved away from Fulcrum and abruptly disconnected this communication. Fulcrum’s situation reminded Pharma too much of his own, so he felt the prudent thing to do was to stop it.

    Shaking his head, Fulcrum said to Pharma, "That was cool." He actually wanted to keep going but he sensed Pharma's strong resentment toward Decepticons, so he didn't want to risk pushing his luck. “Maybe grabbing a shovel once in a while would do me good, right?”

    “Yes, you seem more like you were meant to be a civilian, just like me,” nodded Pharma.

    Fulcrum actually looked relieved and said to Pharma, “Thanks.”

    “You’re welcome,” smiled Pharma. He and Fulcrum went to refill their coffee cups and continued to chat peacefully.

Chapter Text

    After the short break, everyone (including the proctors) were ordered to go to the bathroom before the test could begin. Lockdown was displeased because he didn’t think it was right for anyone, not even Tyrest, to tell him when he could or couldn’t take a pitstop break. But Lockdown was always worried about losing his cushiest job ever, so he just put up with this seemingly unreasonable demand and waited in line, like a school-aged sparkling. Fortunately, when it was nearing his turn he did feel like he needed the pitstop break and was relieved by having it. Afterwards, he headed back into the testing room.

    Once everyone was settled, the tests were handed back to the test takers and the testing resumed. As soon as Fulcrum received his test, he was forced to go over his test. During his chat with Pharma, he realized that Pharma was taking a completely different exam. So the correct answers Pharma wrote down for his licensure exam weren’t correct for the Tyrest Accord Deputy exam. Fulcrum had a massive headache but at least he was partially comforted by the thought that he caught this “mistake” before turning in his exam.

    Meanwhile, Tyrest continued to work quietly from his desk. (The good thing was that the test takers had now gotten the hang of their test and didn’t need to ask him anything.) He actually enjoyed getting his work done during exam days, because he had the least amount of interruption and was better able to concentrate on reviewing his documentation.

    As for Lockdown, he brought one of his old medical textbooks to read and pass the time this way. Since the basic principles of Cybertronian Anatomy hadn’t changed or evolved in the past million years, the information in the book was still accurate. Deep down, Lockdown longed to go back to medical school and finish what he started. But the money he made as a Tyrest Accord Enforcer and a Bounty Hunter was more than he’d ever make as a medic. Since the world is logically run by money and not passion, it wasn’t prudent for him to follow his dreams. If anything, life had taught him that dreams should stay dreams, and that life didn’t care for him. Lockdown didn’t particularly care for life either, so he didn’t hesitate working or living dangerously…but then, there were times he suddenly cared and tactically retreated.

    It seemed like only Xaaron was actively proctoring. Tyrest was working and Lockdown was clearly studying. But Xaaron didn’t mind, he was quick to get up and assist the test takers, that Tyrest and Lockdown didn’t notice.

    And once again, Xaaron decided to sit towards the back, near Misfire, as encouragement. However, Fulcrum assumed Xaaron was singling him out unfairly for some reason. Fulcrum thought it was because he had yellow optics, but then Xaaron had yellow optics too. (Fulcrum was too proud to admit that he was succumbing to the guilt of attempting to cheat.) To make matters worse, Fulcrum had the arduous task of redoing his whole test from the beginning, and Xaaron would definitely notice. 

    Suddenly, Impactor raised his hand.

    Xaaron quickly got up and hurried over to him, whispering, “Yes?”

    “I’m not used to writing so much and my hand is cramping, what do I do?” asked Impactor, who seemed frustrated that he was unable to finish his exam.

    “You’ll be taken to another room to do the oral version of this exam,” replied Xaaron. “You’ll have to answer out loud to either Tyrest or Lockdown, and one of them will record your answers. Let me go talk to them.”

    Spinister’s rotor blades abruptly fluttered in annoyance. He had overheard Impactor’s conversation and was upset that Impactor was leaving because he had figured out how to read the reflections on the ceiling fans to copy Impactor's exam. Tyrest, Xaaron, and Lockdown turned to look at Spinister, who immediately became embarrassed and tried to think of what to do next.

    Without saying a word, Tyrest looked at Lockdown and assigned him as Impactor’s proctor. Lockdown sighed and walked over to Impactor. He took Impactor’s exam and they both left the room. 

    Pharma was so focused on his exam, he didn’t even notice Impactor leave. As for Anode and Lug, they thought Impactor got in trouble, because he was always a mech who played by his own rules.

    Luckily, Impactor wasn't a mech who engaged in small talk. However, Lockdown was nervous around him, due to his reputation, so he immediately tried to start some small talk with Impactor. 

    “How’s the weather in Nyon?” asked Lockdown, as casually as possible.

    “Nuclear winter is rough,” replied Impactor. “I've been living there for years and still haven’t gotten used to it. It's probably because I need to be in a warm burrow somewhere.” Impactor stopped short of explaining that the Wreckers’ base in Nyon actually had several stories below ground, because Impactor had a lot of time to dig and renovate the base, during his tenure as the Wreckers’ leader.

    “Yeah, my kneecaps lock up with cold weather,” sighed Lockdown as he unlocked another testing room. “It's got something to do with my wiring. But it's always been that way since I was a sparkling.” Feeling slightly more at ease, Lockdown said, “The Chief Justice said you could sit anywhere. I just have to pull up a chair next to you, and write down your answers on the same test form.”

    Impactor sat on the first available desk, which was the one literally next to the door. Admittedly, Impactor’s legs hurt from standing up and walking around since his knees weren’t properly lubricated. He had actually run out of lubricating oil and planned to get more after his exam. So he figured the last bits he had applied would be enough until then, but they weren't.

    “If you want, I could give you some of my lubricating oil,” said Lockdown, as he looked through his subspace and pulled out a first aid kit.

    “Alright,” nodded Impactor, as Lockdown grabbed the lubricating oil spray from the first aid kit and handed it to him.

    For millions of years, most of the factories that were still operational were those that belonged to the Autobots or the Decepticons, and they manufactured goods for their respective faction. Since the Great War was also about ideological differences, not just resources, many mechs refused to buy or use products made by the opposing faction. Lockdown’s spray was “Decepticon Brand,” with a purple Decepticon logo and Decepticon script on a simple metal can.

    Fortunately, Impactor wasn’t particularly picky about Decepticon goods (or concerned about if these products were created through ethical means). After thanking Lockdown, Impactor took the spray and quickly applied it to both knees. Since these lubricants were fast-acting, Impactor felt immediate relief when he flexed and bent his knees.

    Meanwhile, Lockdown opened Impactor’s test booklet to see where he had left off. Lockdown’s eyes widened and he blurted out, “You have like 5 questions left.”

    “Yeah,” said Impactor, as he tried to spray his left hand. “Both my hands are tired of gripping that tiny stylus.” However, he didn’t attempt to spray his left hand because his non-dominant hand was also tired.

    Lockdown noticed that Impactor had retracted his signature harpoon and had both his hands extended. Not thinking twice, Lockdown took the spray from Impactor and sprayed both of Impactor’s hands, before closing it and returning it to the first aid kit.

    “Thanks,” said Impactor. He then added, “Write in ‘2’ for that next question.”

    Lockdown looked at the test and marked “2”. The question read as follows:

#496: Suppose you are patrolling the moon of a planet known as "Earth," and you encounter a wrecked ship from the opposing faction. In accordance with the provisions of the Tyrest Accord, you are obligated to investigate circumstances surrounding the incident. You discover an injured and unconscious mech inside the ship. What would you do first?

1. Call the Duly Appointed Enforcer from the opposing faction to handle this. Earth is a disputed planet, so this could easily be a trap.

2. Make sure the coast is clear, before assessing the mech, and transporting him to the nearest base.

3. Diagnose the mech, and try to treat his injuries on your own, before reporting this to the Tyrest Accord.

4. Leave the mech alone. He’s likely just taking a literal dirt nap and has intentionally crashed the ship on this moon.

    Lockdown frowned, since he clearly remembered choosing “1” as his answer, the first time he took the exam. And thinking about it, “2” made more sense.

    Impactor leaned over and read over the test questions. He then said, “Next I want ‘4’, ‘2’, ‘1’, and ‘1.’ I’m so glad I finished all the essay questions and just had multiple-choice left.”

    Lockdown finished filling in the answers, and led Impactor to the break room. He then went back into the testing room and turned in Impactor’s exam to Tyrest. Tyrest quickly glanced over the test and put it away in the testing briefcase.