"Eighty-eight percent probability the Autobots are already en route."

"Excellent," replied Collaborata. A different face clicked around toward the third partner, a smaller Scientist with only one face. "Are the tests complete?"

"Affirmative. The window correctly distinguishes between Autobots and Decepticons and sends them to appropriate eras." What 'appropriate' meant in the context was debatable, but the three Quintessons shared an appreciative pause, anticipating a taste long denied them -- victory.

"Withdrawing three light minutes to permit the Autobots to investigate," the second Judge, Definita, reported, four tentacles actively tapping a console.

"Four point six percent probability the system will fail to correctly assign a human," the Scientist warned more soberly.

Collaborata eyed the Scientist. "Meaning the window will identify a human as a Decepticon?" Spin, click. "That is of no concern," the Face of Death announced.

"Do you see anything, Sky Lynx?" Rodimus Prime could not keep the impatience out of his voice. Something ought to be visible. The chronal distortions had been detectable on Cybertron, and easily traced here, to this barren star system. The source seemed to be a scarred, asymmetrical hunk of rock the second planet might call a moon.

"Negative, Rodimus Prime, though my excellent scanners are searching the area tirelessly."

"Perhaps your sensors should be checked," Perceptor suggested.

Whether it was well-disguised irritation or honest, misguided helpfulness that inspired the remark, Sky Lynx did not appreciate it. "My sensors are perfectly calibrated and Quintesson vessel dead ahead!"

"What the..." Scattershot didn't immediately grasp that Sky Lynx had interrupted himself, but 'Quintesson' registered at about the time Strafe pulled him out of Sky Lynx's open hatch.

"Action!" the other Technobot explained succinctly. Their three teammates joined them, and together with Sky Lynx flew directly toward the Quintesson vessel.

Perceptor hadn't been so hasty. "What's down there?" he inquired of no one, and then transformed to his scope mode for a better look at the moon. "Rodimus, there appears to be a time window present. That would explain the Quintesson presence and the chronal energy we've been picking up."

"Then we'd better find out what the Quintessons are up to. Sky Lynx! Turn us around! We're headed for that moon!"

Sky Lynx protested, but followed orders, the Technobots trailing him under fire from the pursuing Quintesson vessel. Sky Lynx fired a few shots behind him before he landed and allowed the five Autobots inside to disembark.

"That's funny," Rodimus muttered to Ultra Magnus as they provided the Technobots cover fire. "There's no one guarding the time window. It's as if they just ... left it open. And we know that's not a good idea."

"What makes you think standing in front of it's a good idea?" Springer demanded from the other side of Kup. "There could be Quintessons on the other side jut waiting to jump back out and attack us."

"Well, there are definitely Quintessons up there!" Rodimus pointed by shooting, not that his weapon did significant damage to the slowly-turning cruiser as it reached the surface of the moon some ways away, its leaf-like landing gear opening to dig deeply into the rock and dust.

"Come out and fight," Kup grumbled, firing ineffectually at the green and silver hull. Strafe and Scattershot kept to the air, keeping the only door to the ship under heavy fire. Sky Lynx had separated into his two halves to do more damage.

"There's something very strange about this time window," Perceptor reported. "I cannot recall seeing this apparatus on the previous installation at -- whoa!" A blast knocked him back, into Ultra Magnus.

"Decepticons! Attack!"

"Great. Just what I wanted to hear." Rodimus Prime turned around and opened fire on his newly arrived adversary.

Galvatron was in more of a mood to brawl hand-to-hand than shoot from a distance, and dove straight into the Autobot lines to tackle Rodimus. Cyclonus was not far behind him in attacking his preferred opponent, Ultra Magnus, all but ignoring Perceptor who was initially in his way.

The remaining Decepticons kept their distance, using their superior aerial maneuverability to give them an advantage over the Autobots. Springer wasn't about to ignore that insult, and transformed into helicopter mode to take on Astrotrain. Strafe and Scattershot each picked a Sweep to tail. Kup shot down Bonecrusher. Within minutes, the battleground became a melee.

"Has everyone forgotten we are fighting the Quintessons?" Sky Lynx shouted, re-uniting his two halves. "And they're getting away!" Getting no response, he chased the Quintesson ship into the starry sky.

"The time window is ours!" Galvatron yelled at Rodimus over the noise of the battle, shoving him into a rock formation, one hand at the Autobot leader's throat.

"Funny, I thought you were defending the Quintessons." Rodimus kicked Galvatron off him, gaining his feet.

"Never!" Galvatron charged again.

There was something pathetic, embarrassing, Ultra Magnus thought, in the way he fought Cyclonus. Rather, he felt it, since he had no spare time for thinking about anything but the immediate conflict. Not once did Cyclonus pull any of the dirty tricks the other Decepticons were prone to. Not once did he even use his weapons, and yet Ultra Magnus could neither defeat him nor take his attention off of him for even a split second. The melee around them had disappeared from all but his most low-level awareness. There was only the perfectly honorable, training room duel between him and Cyclonus.

It was, as always, a standoff.

Both combatants were thus equally surprised when a flying blue form shot by Ultra Magnus's head and slammed into Cyclonus's chest. Kup yelled something from behind Ultra Magnus as Scourge shook his head clear and got to his feet, off of the Decepticon second. Kup fired again, suddenly beside Magnus's elbow, and Scourge staggered.

Abruptly uninterested in Ultra Magnus, Cyclonus rose and grasped Scourge below his wings, lifting him into a sky and presumably to some safer location. Ultra Magnus never let them get there. Pulling out his own weapon, he fired. The two Decepticons tumbled out of the sky, through the time window and were gone.

"Nice shooting," Kup remarked. Ultra Magnus was not quite sure if he was being sarcastic, but there wasn't time to consider that. Wheeling, he searched for a new Decepticon to fight, and found two Sweeps ganging up on Perceptor. Springer was dealing with Astrotrain quite capably, pinning him against the time window console and punching him repeatedly. The loss of the two Decepticon lieutenants might just give the Autobots the advantage...

"Constructicons, merge to form --"

"Devastator!" six voices cheered. In the act of aiming, Ultra Magnus groaned.

"Like you're the only ones that can do that anymore!" Afterburner yelled, and the Technobots combined. The two gestalts charged each other and locked in a familiar struggle, their steps shaking the ground and dislodging rocks.

A minor landslide sent Rodimus and Galvatron tumbling past Ultra Magnus to the flatter ground, and Galvatron took precious seconds to wave a fist at his own. "You fools!" Rodimus used the advantage.

Computron was winning. He should have been; he was significantly more powerful than Devastator, and the two deliberate combiners weren't prone to strokes of risk and luck. Magnus was busy shooting down a Sweep, and never knew for sure whether it was luck after all, or a carefully planned shot that turned the tide. Computron toppled, splitting into his five members in the process. It was the disintegration that saved the Quintesson time window, but not the Technobots. Strafe and Lightspeed were flung into the window, while Nosecone and Scattershot landed on the ground in front of it and Afterburner some distance on the other side.

Ultra Magnus, Kup and Perceptor all concentrated their fire on Devastator, and Nosecone and Scattershot joined in. Devastator laughed and raised his leg to step on Scattershot, enjoying being the strongest again.

"Here I come to save the day! ...as usual." Sky Lynx slammed chest-first into Devastator, knocking the Decepticon combiner back a step.

"Sky Lynx! I thought you were chasing the Quintessons!" Rodimus shouted, and took a punch from Galvatron for his inattention. Then the Decepticon leader rubbed his chin in abrupt, mad contemplation.

"Quintessons," he mused. "Decepticons! Leave these Autobots to mull over their defeat. We have Quintessons to hunt!" He took to the air. Devastator turned to follow.

"We've got to go get Strafe and Lightspeed back!" Afterburner was halfway to jumping through the time window himself when Nosecone bodily dragged him back.

"No, we need to consider this," Nosecone said.

"But we can't form Computron!" His entire argument stated, Afterburner ran for the window again.

"Destroy the window. It has served its purpose," Collaborata ordered, observing Scourge and Cyclonus pass through.

Spin, click. "What of the Autobots? None of them have gone through."

"That is unnecessary," replied Collaborata.

"The self-destruct circuit is non-functional," reported the Scientist, flailing three tentacles ineffectually.

"That idiot Decepticon is rolling on it!" Definita snapped a mobile metal jaw shut on the words, gesturing at Astrotrain.

"Fire on the window," Collaborata said with cold disinterest.

Definita re-positioned the ship such that the grappling combiners were not in the way, and aimed. As if to spite them, Devastator suddenly kicked Computron directly toward the window, once again in their line of fire, and their shot hit his chest directly. The combiner split, and two of the component Technobots were launched through the window while the others fell.

Spin, click. "There go your Autobots." Another of Collaborata's faces spun forward. "Fire again, and withdraw."

The blast hurled Afterburner back into his teammates, who stared in horror as the time window fizzled and shut down. "Strafe! Lightspeed! No!"

Galvatron, too, shrieked his rage, firing at the Quintesson ship. "Decepticons, attack!"

While the earlier attacks had done little damage to the Quintesson cruiser, Devastator was big enough to make significant dents. He did, gleefully. It was little surprise when the Quintessons spared no haste in retreating, with the remaining Decepticons in pursuit.

Rodimus surveyed the ruins of the time window. "Did they get what they came for?" he asked rhetorically.

"They got Strafe and Lightspeed," Ultra Magnus replied. "As well as Cyclonus and Scourge."

"Great. I don't know whether we need to rescue them from history or the Decepticons, but we need to bring back Strafe and Lightspeed. Perceptor, can this thing be fixed?"

Perceptor was already examining it. "I believe I can reconstruct it."

"Lightspeed! Are you okay? Are you functional? Lightspeed! Answer me!" Strafe's head sometimes blocked the too-bright light from Lightspeed's optics, but not nearly consistently enough.

"Calm down," Lightspeed groaned, sitting up gingerly. "Where are we?" It looked like Cybertron, but some part of Cybertron that Lightspeed hadn't been on. The specific buildings weren't familiar, and something more abstract was different, but he couldn't define it exactly. Computron would have been able to figure it out, putting his five brains together...

"The time window's gone!" Strafe shook Lightspeed by the shoulders in his urgency, making the red Technobot wince.

"We'll find our way home. It looks like Cybertron, doesn't it? Someone must have a ship."

"It's not where we are, it's when we are that's the problem. That was a time window. We went through time sometime. And Scattershot, Nosecone and Afterburner are still getting beat up by Devastator on the other side of that window that isn't there anymore!"

"Devastator wasn't beating us up, we were beating him up. Somebody shot us." Lightspeed found his legs, and looked around again. "It really looks like Cybertron. Maybe we're in Cybertron's history." They were standing on a pocked metal street which must have once been used frequently, though not heavily, for it was narrow. There were a few domes and spires around them in orange, silver and blue-grey, but most of the structures were relatively small and functional. The skyline was low, indicating an area of little prestige, at least if they were in any era Lightspeed knew much about.

"Well, that's a relief. We'll end up back in the right place eventually then!" Strafe being sarcastic wasn't a good sign, but Lightspeed had bigger worries than his friend being forcibly kept out of a battle he wanted to fight.

"Ah, that's it. Look, it looks like those buildings were rebuilt some time ago and then that damage has happened since then." Lightspeed pointed to the remains of a warehouse, its roof caved in and splintered, holes and charred edges marring its walls.

"It's been a while since anybody was fighting here." Strafe almost sounded disgusted, and he turned away to kick some metal part that had been left as litter. It skidded across the street and rolled into the gutter. Lightspeed watched him without a word, allowing him to come down from the excitement of the battle. Not that Strafe was ever completely calm, always raring to go, but sometimes he was more reasonable than others.

"Alright, don't move," a voice ordered from behind them. "Stand very still. I'm going to walk around you so we can see each other."

"Strafe, no!"

Strafe stopped in the middle of turning around and did as he was told, though with obvious misgivings. If only Scattershot were here! Strafe trusted the Technobot leader more than anyone else.

A blocky red robot stepped around them, some kind of hand weapon pointed at Strafe's chest while he inspected them. As soon as he saw the Technobots' Autobot sigils, he relaxed somewhat. He wore the same sigil and looked familiar, but he wasn't someone Lightspeed could remember meeting.

"Who are you and where did you come from?" he drawled, still not entirely without suspicion.

"I'm Strafe, and this is Lightspeed. He's fast. And we were in the middle of kicking some Decepticon tail when we fell through this stupid time window and ended up here."

"Strafe! If we're in the past, maybe we shouldn't be telling him the future. It might change things."

"Naw," said the other. "What am I going to do differently if I know the future? I'm just a soldier, I do what I'm told and I try to keep the neutrals safe from the Decepticons."

"Hey, if you fight them you're cool with me!" Strafe offered a high-five but only got a confused look back.

"He's never been to Earth," Lightspeed said, giving up entirely.

"I don't even know where that is. I'm Ironhide. Follow me. You two need to talk to Optimus Prime."

"Well, at least now we sort of know when we are!" Lightspeed transformed and tailed Ironhide down the road, for once glad of the easy pace. That blast from whoever it was had done him some significant damage. Strafe caught up quickly, flying low overhead.

"Hey, you can fly!" Ironhide stopped and transformed so abruptly that Lightspeed skidded in an effort to not run into him. Ironhide sidestepped at the last second.

"Sorry about that, I'm still shaky on my wheels." Lightspeed rubbed his head. Ironhide chuckled, as Strafe landed on his feet beside them.

"What's wrong with flying?"

"Autobots don't fly. Decepticons fly. You better walk, because otherwise someone's going to mistake you for one of them and blast you out of the sky."

Strafe sighed. Walking was too slow for his tastes. "Autobots fly in our time."

"I can see that." He grinned, but set off on foot.

"Can you tell us when we are?" Lightspeed asked. "How long has Optimus Prime been Autobot leader?"

"Since before I joined up," Ironhide answered, then shook his head. "Couple thousand years."

"Nine million years ago," Strafe figured. "Almost as far back as the Aerialbots went."

Lightspeed started to warn him off saying too much, but was interrupted by a laser blast that grazed his arm. All three Autobots spun and opened fire on their attacker, a tetrahedral silver Seeker type who zipped by overhead, overshot greatly, and looped back in the distant sky for another pass.

"This way!" Ironhide and Lightspeed yanked Strafe into a narrow alley before he could even think of transforming and chasing the Decepticon through the air. Ironhide pulled off the trapezoidal cover of a conduit that must have once been used for maintenance, and waved the Technobots down the ladder inside while he guarded their backs.

The ladder went down what must have been three levels underground, and Lightspeed had not yet reached the bottom when there was room for Ironhide at the top. Strafe, below him, simply gripped the edges of the ladder and slid down the last level or so, making a ringing thunk at the bottom. The light overhead disappeared as Ironhide pulled the cover closed after all three of them, then activated his own, dimmer lights.

Above, Lightspeed heard a muffled and none-too-pleasant voice taunt, "Come out, come out, wherever you are! Come out and meet your fate!" Ironhide twisted on the ladder so that Lightspeed could see his grin, and continued climbing, careful to be quiet. At the bottom of the ladder, he pointed in the direction that Strafe had already taken a few tentative steps in, and they set off again.

"Starcreep," Ironhide muttered by way of explanation, pointing back and up.

"Starscream?" Lightspeed guessed, fitting the epithet to another historical name.

"Yeah, him. He was a creep even before he was a Decepticreep."

Lightspeed tried not to laugh too loudly. Strafe just guffawed.

"Aw, leave me alone." Ironhide was used to being teased, and brushed the Technobots off with a good-natured gesture.

"They tell the best ghost stories about him," Lightspeed said, guessing Ironhide would be pleased to hear of the Decepticon's future death, however distant it was. "The older Autobots all swear up and down they're true."

Strafe looked over his shoulder at his teammate. "Yeah, well, you never can tell with Kup's stories."

Given the date, Lightspeed was not surprised when it was Alpha Trion and not Optimus Prime that met them at the Autobot base. Optimus and several other Autobots were apparently elsewhere, and they had a big repair bay almost to themselves. Alpha Trion checked them for any damage he could repair, politely not examining their systems too closely, once they had explained from where, or rather from when, they had come. Their story quickly drew a crowd, nearly all the Autobots in the base at the time.

"Naw, he didn't get us. And I don't think he found the entrance to the tunnels either. 'Course he wasn't looking too hard."

"Decepticons think they're too good to come out of the air," another Autobot agreed with Ironhide's assessment.

"Enough," Alpha Trion said, returning with red paint for Lightspeed. The Technobot was sitting on the edge of an examination table, feet dangling, hands planted on either side of him, fingers trailing over the edge, shoulders hunched slightly. "We must focus our efforts on returning these two to their own time. You said you came through a time window?"

Lightspeed nodded, releasing his elbows from their locked straight position so that he could lean forward.

"I was on the other side of a time window once." Alpha Trion shook his head at the memory. "I watched time and space be slowly torn apart because of the interaction of future and past."

"The Qu--"

Alpha Trion silenced Strafe. "Don't mention them!" The other Autobots exchanged uncertain glances.

"What I'm more concerned about," Lightspeed said slowly, "is that we saw two Decepticons fall through ahead of us, and we haven't seen hide nor hair of them since we got here."

"Hide nor what?" Ironhide had looked up at what he thought was his name.

"They weren't with Starscream," Strafe agreed.

"They might not trust Starscream." Once again Lightspeed wished to be able to merge. Without that, the two Technobots had to do all their shared reasoning aloud, and without the contributions of the other three he felt insecure. "These are Galvatron's lieutenants. They barely met him before he got shot."

Strafe paced, frustrated at the idea of a clandestine enemy, one he couldn't do anything about. "What are they going to do, hide somewhere until the time window comes back on its own?"

"For them, that might seem like a very good idea."

"No way! You know Cyclonus. Front and center, declare himself before he attacks, hand to hand with Ultra Magnus guy?"

"He's not attacking from the shadows, just sitting there."

"Cyclonus?" The cold note in Alpha Trion's voice stopped both Technobots. They turned to look at him, puzzled.

"Cyclonus and Scourge," Lightspeed said. "How do you know who we're talking about?"

"Yeah, they haven't even been built yet, and they just arrived here before we did!"

Alpha Trion sighed, one fist closing in a rare sign of hate. "They fell out of a time window a long time ago. A very long time ago. Two million years ago."

"With Blaster and the others? When you went forward?" Lightspeed didn't think there had been any Decepticons around then.

"No. It was later, when we were on the verge of winning the war."

Strafe and Lightspeed exchanged glances. "We gotta warn the others," Strafe said.

Lightspeed agreed, suddenly as confident and clear of thought as if he were a part of Computron. "We need to get back to our own time."

She shouldn't have been surprised. Ever since the coda remote had made the Dark Guardians useless against her rebel cell, the Quintessons had been in hiding inside their most fortified areas, no doubt preparing some means of defense that was unaffected by a scrambler. Her eavesdropping and spying had not told her yet what it was, but it certainly meant another all-out battle, another turning point on which the future of the Cybertronian rebellion hinged.

No, she should not have been surprised when one of those giant, strange triangles appeared in the air, dumping two purplish mechs unceremoniously on the ground. Those things, if she understood them right, were windows in time, and the Quintessons only used them when they had failed the first time and wanted a second chance. So, in some timeline, the rebels won.

The more lavender of the two sat up, one hand to his head, and shook it, then looked around for a moment before turning to the other and helping him to his feet. They were both damaged, the second more apparently so than the first, and wobbly. They both scanned the area again once they were upright, the lavender one still supporting the one with the cape-like structures, and then turned back toward the time window.

The window promptly disappeared.

One or the other let out a yell of frustration. "Some help the Quints send themselves," the eavesdropper muttered to herself, creeping into a better position from which to watch. "All they want is to go back to where they were."

The noise had attracted the notice of one of the Dark Guardians, who still stood at the gates, as useless as they were to both sides. It approached the two mechs and fired. They both managed to evade the blast, the caped one stumbling as the lavender one leaped into the air and transformed.

She watched, an involuntary smile on her face. That was such a useful ability, even if she could not fathom how it was accomplished.

The lavender mech, now a sleek purple aircraft with a needle nose and forward-slanting wings, dove at the Dark Guardian, firing. The guardian looked up, distracted from the other long enough for him to limp away and find cover. It fired into the air several times, but the Transformer was too fast for it. Unfortunately, his weapons were barely effective on the immense and heavily armored Guardian.

In the distance she could hear the heavy, slow tread of another Dark Guardian approaching. She sighed and raised her crossbow, taking careful aim. "Here we go again."

Cyclonus stared in astonishment at their rescuer, while Scourge raised himself to his feet, gingerly as well as warily, off to one side. "But you're an Autobot!" Cyclonus exclaimed.

"I'm a what?" Her voice was low-pitched for a femme and sounded hollow.

Cyclonus pointed to the sigil on his chest. "You're an Autobot, and we're Decepticons. Why?"

"The brand of the military line? It doesn't matter. We're all slaves unless we fight the Quints."

"We're in the past. We must be before the first war," Scourge said, looking around.

"We're at war, and if you don't come away from here, we're all going to be scrap metal," the green femme snapped. "Follow me or don't. I don't care." She walked away.

Scourge and Cyclonus exchanged glances. "She did save our lives," Cyclonus said dubiously.

"I don't trust her anyway," Scourge replied in a low voice.

Cyclonus glanced significantly toward the post the first Guardian had left. "I trust them less. Especially if they serve the Quintessons."

Without another word they set off after the femme, Scourge still leaning on Cyclonus. She waited for them once she realized they were following, and Cyclonus decided she did care, but their reaction had annoyed her. We must have appeared ungrateful.

Cybertron was much less developed in this part of history, and Cyclonus guessed that the ground they now tread was seven or eight levels underground in his own time. The structures seemed too big, Guardian-scaled, and there were great expanses of smooth metal where Cyclonus expected cluttered surfaces, bristling with buttons, switches, cameras, screens, and weapons.

"Beta," the femme said abruptly, glancing over her shoulder at Cyclonus and Scourge as if she expected an answer.

"What?" Cyclonus frowned, puzzled.

"Beta. I'm Beta. Who are you?"

Both Decepticons introduced themselves, giving only names.

Beta led them into an alley of sorts, between towering structures of unclear function. Her optics glowed blue in the shadows as she turned to them again, allowing their pace to slow in the relative safe zone. "The Quints sent you back in time to help them fight us," she said. "You have the same choice we all do. Serve, or fight."

"I serve no one but Galvatron!" Cyclonus snapped.

"We are Decepticons. We don't fight for the Quintessons," Scourge added. It wasn't technically true, as the Decepticons had allied themselves briefly with the Quintessons at times, but Scourge would have preferred to forget those missions. The Quintessons got more use from their Decepticon allies than the other way around.

"Good. Welcome to Hive City." She led them around another corner and under the shelter of a building that was wider at the top than the bottom. Two slender Autobots stood guard by a door, but relaxed at a sign from Beta. Although both Cyclonus and Scourge retained their suspicion, they passed inside without incident. "The rebellion could use warriors of your caliber. You see what we work with," she said in a low voice once the door closed again.

Scourge made eye contact with Cyclonus again, his face expressing discomfort. It went against both Decepticons' grain to help Autobots, even if there was no war. Even if there was no Decepticon cause at all in this time. Even if there was, and it was the same cause. Scourge and Cyclonus would believe that when they heard it from someone wearing the right sigil.

"What are we going to do?" Scourge asked his commander as Beta went to speak with a few of the other rebels, none even as big as she was. The determined warrior femme had given Cyclonus much too good an opinion of the chances of this rebellion.

"We're going to find a way back to our own time," Cyclonus replied softly. "Even if we trusted the Autobots, this is a lost cause without Decepticon help. And I don't mean ours."

"And how do we get out of here?" Scourge looked around nervously. Cyclonus could see him beginning to panic.

"Are you joking? Once you're repaired, this whole cell couldn't stop us. Have patience. We'll kill Quintessons in this time for sport, until Galvatron brings back that time window. Then we'll settle our score with the ones that sent us here."

"As long as it's for sport and not for the Autobots," Scourge muttered.

"But the military line is still loyal to the Quints!" one of the rebels said, abruptly clearly audible. "We haven't heard from them at all."

Beta's reply was equally loud. "We're hearing from them now."

"We should give them the chance." Finally, a mech taller than Beta appeared, and she attached herself to him like a parasite. "They could be a big help to us. Especially if the Quints unleash some new threat tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Beta looked up at him.

He nodded, but looked at the rabble rather than at Beta. "Tomorrow. Be ready."

"Are those additional coda remotes --" she prodded, breaking off midsentence with merely a questioning expression.

He shook his head. "Only one. Use it wisely."

Scourge glanced at Cyclonus again. Cyclonus shrugged. He wasn't sure whether they had been forgotten or were merely being made to wait, but until he didn't have to hold the Sweep Leader up, he didn't plan on asserting his rights or demanding his due respect.

Beta hadn't forgotten. She deftly steered the mech over to them. "A-3, these are Cyclonus and Scourge." She indicated Cyclonus. "He can transform and fly."

"So can I!" Scourge protested, then added grumpily, "When I'm not damaged."

"Invaluable," A-3 said. "If only we knew what to expect and could plan for it. Scourge, we'll see to your repairs directly. This way."

Both Decepticons were surprised when they realized the apparent cell leader intended to complete the repairs himself. "I don't know what differences there are in your mechanisms," A-3 admitted, "but I've repaired damage like that before. Quint guards got you, huh?"

"No, the --" Scourge stopped at a glare from Cyclonus. "They wouldn't come out of their ship," he finished with convincing bitterness and contempt.

Beta narrowed her slanted blue eyes, evidently realizing what Scourge wasn't saying -- that the damage was Autobot-inflicted. "Slaves, using weapons of Quintesson construction," she surmised. Was she angry at the omission, Cyclonus wondered, or at the future war, or did she really believe the Autobots had been intentionally working for the Quintessons?

Better question, why was he even considering whether it would reassure her to know the Autobots were only inadvertent pawns? The rest of these weak Autobots were objects of pity at best, primarily tools to be used for as long as they were useful, and then cast aside. He deliberately glanced at her sigil, reminding himself that she was one of them, only the best of this crowd of cringing would-be warriors, nothing more. It was unfortunate. She would have made an excellent Decepticon...

"No!" he exclaimed, reaching for A-3's tool hand so suddenly he almost surprised himself as well. "That's his transformation assembly. Let me..." A-3 stepped aside with a little shrug, then moved so he could watch what Cyclonus was doing, any irritation quickly forgotten.

"I've got it!" Perceptor yelled, getting all the Autobots' attention, even those who were currently perimeter guards. The time window powered up, the silvery haze within the triangle seeming to open up from its center, as if space itself was parting and drawing back. "Approximating the coordinates at which it deposited Strafe and Lightspeed, nine million years ago." He entered them as he spoke, and the part of history vaguely visible in the window changed.

"Let's go mount a rescue mission." Rodimus Prime glanced around the Autobots, waving Ultra Magnus and the three remaining Technobots to his side. He tried to make out details in the blurry view beyond, and added to Springer, "Shoot any Decepticons foolish enough to try to go through it."

"Which direction?" Springer asked with a confident grin.

"Either." Rodimus turned back to the window, just in time for something white to fly past over his head. Springer almost fired at it, but stopped himself.

"STRAFE!" Afterburner and Scattershot ran to their comrade as he landed. Nosecone looked back at the window, in time to see Lightspeed jump through.

"We were waiting for that," Lightspeed told him.

"Where are the Decepticons?" Rodimus asked.

"Oh, yeah, close the window! I bet they saw us fly through!" Strafe waved at the time window urgently.

"Not without Cyclonus and Scourge. We can't leave them back then."

Strafe knew better than to question Rodimus when he spoke in that authoritative tone, and he fell silent.

"But Cyclonus and Scourge aren't in that time," Lightspeed said. "They're two million years further back. I don't know how it happened, but Alpha Trion remembered them.

Rodimus acknowledged that, and Lightspeed saw a brief distant look pass across the young Autobot leader's face. "Perceptor! See if you can locate the Decepticons."

"I can try," Perceptor replied, and then suddenly looked up. "That must be what this apparatus does! It changes the target of the time window when someone passes through it!"

"Well, set it for Cyclonus already!" Springer settled into his perimeter position again, scanning space for any sign of returning Quintessons or Decepticons.

"All clear," one of the rebels called softly, and the strike force moved from one shadow into the next. Across a broad, open buffer zone, the gates of the production compound loomed. Silent Dark Guardians watched from either side of the gates, weapons at the ready. Only when the rebels were in position would A-3 or Beta use the coda remotes to disrupt the Quintessons' control over the Guardians. To do so earlier would be to lose the element of surprise. Cyclonus approved.

Two with sense, all of them weaker than cassettes, against whatever army the Quintessons have built or hired this time. It was hard to believe these rebels must have won, but the appearance of Cyclonus and Scourge had somehow convinced Beta of their impending victory.

"The charges are ready?" A-3 double-checked with Cyclonus, who nodded. The rebel lifted his arm, holding it up until he knew all the rebels were watching, then dropped it. The Autobots charged toward the gates, while the Decepticons leapt into flight above their heads. A-3 activated the coda remote, standing back, and the Guardians dropped their weapons to writhe, clutching their heads as if in pain or trying to cover their nonexistent ears.

Arriving at the gates, Cyclonus and Scourge dropped into robot mode, planting and setting the charges quickly and retreating to the rear of the Autobot line, which paused in its advance just long enough to duck flying debris. Cyclonus smirked. If there was one thing the Decepticons knew, it was explosives.

Beta was the first to lob a grenade at the badly-damaged gate, now only a few meters thick in places. Above the ramparts, Quintessons appeared on sleds, and the gate opened, as if in admission that it would soon be useless anyway. Out of the gate poured...

"Decepticons!" Cyclonus stopped in his tracks, Scourge beside him. The Autobots continued for several more strides before pausing in confusion.

Not at all surprised to meet their own kind in battle, the ancient Decepticons rushed forward with a collective war-cry. They were not slender and obviously weak like the Autobots, and neither had they the slow, heavy bulk of Guardians. Yet they were not the glorious Decepticons Cyclonus knew. These were grim, spiky, primitive brutes, suited best for brawling.

"Meet the real fighters of Cybertron," a sled-borne Quintesson boomed smugly.

"This rebellion is over," another declared.

"You may proceed to entertain us," a third spoke, and all of them chuckled, rotating faces.

"No!" Cyclonus shouted, horrified. He barely registered what might have been a protest from Scourge as he set himself airborne again, clearing the Autobots and landing as best he could between them and the Decepticons. "Stop!" he shouted at his primitive ancestors. "Why are you fighting your own kind? Why not fight the real enemy, the tricksters that enslave you?"

It worked, at least as a diversion. The Decepticons were staring at his sigil, not attacking. The Autobots, who had fought only in self-defense, stood ready but still. Finally, one Decepticon spoke. "They pay us."

"Energon. Prestige. Femmes." The second speaker leered at Beta, who scowled, pointing her energy crossbow directly at his abdomen and drawing it.

"Where is your honor? What about freedom?" Cyclonus demanded, shouting to be heard by all the Decepticons. "What about power? What is prestige when you're still a slave?" Scourge landed beside him on those words, and a murmur spread among the assembled Decepticons.

"Claim your freedom! Conquer Cybertr--argh!" Cyclonus fell, the shot startling as much as wounding him. The Quintessons were armed!

An answering roar of rage started from the Autobot side and echoed between the high, smooth walls in throbbing pulses like a great bass drum. Cyclonus rolled to a crouch, careful not to stand up between the Autobots' weapons and the Quintessons as they opened fire.

"Conquer Cybertron!" Scourge finished for Cyclonus, rising into the air and transforming.

The Decepticons responded. Cyclonus distinguished a cheer of "Conquest is glory!" among the inarticulate shouts and the sound of weapons fire. Most of the Decepticons were unarmed, and they ran back inside the compound gates to attack whatever, or whoever, they could with their bare fists. Cyclonus saw one low-caste Quintesson on a platform, wielding a dangerously glowing whip, and another sled rise into the air. Cyclonus jumped up and transformed, joining Scourge in attacking the slower sleds from above.

Was that Beta he heard cheering his name? Then other voices picked it up, adding it to the cries of "Freedom now!" from the Autobots and "Conquest is glory!" from the Decepticons.

"For the glory of Galvatron!" he yelled, diving at a Quintesson.

"Cybertron!" Scourge shouted. His mind mostly occupied with fighting, Cyclonus didn't immediately realize Scourge was answering him.

"...er, Cybertron!" he corrected himself belatedly, and took pleasure in disemboweling the five-face audacious enough to find him amusing.

"Almost done!" Perceptor yelled over the noise of the battle.

"Could you work a little faster?" Ultra Magnus shouted back. The Autobots were keeping the Decepticons pinned down in a distant line, but only barely.

"These people don't seem to realize we're helping them." Rodimus could be counted on for gallows humor. Ultra Magnus grumbled.

"Maybe they don't care!" Springer shouted back.

"Good thinking, Springer," Galvatron taunted, standing to fire recklessly. "I don't! Now hand over the time window and my men!"

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Perceptor protested without looking up.

"Ha! Autobot liar! He is preventing them from ever returning!"

"You know what, Rodimus?" Ultra Magnus said. "I think we should just leave it to them. They seem to be planning on doing the same thing with it that we are."

"That's starting to sound like not such a bad idea," the Autobot leader replied for Ultra Magnus's audio receptors only. "We'll keep an eye on them and destroy the window once Cyclonus and Scourge are back where they belong." Louder, he shouted, "Autobots! Retreat!"

"But I'm --" Perceptor looked up from his work.

"I said retreat! Sky Lynx! Transform!" The Autobots followed orders, but Perceptor was not the only one to look back. Fortunately, Sky Lynx was looking forward, and saw the approaching Quintesson cruiser in good time to escape.

"The time window!" Scourge angled himself directly at Cyclonus in order to get the other's attention away from the battle at hand. They turned in the air, firing a few last shots at the three remaining sleds before flying at high speed toward the peculiar triangle. It might disappear again at any instant, and neither Decepticon intended to miss their sole opportunity!

"Where do you think you're --" the voice cut off as the window swallowed them, spitting them out on the original barren moon. Scourge landed roughly right next to Galvatron, whose back was to the window. The Decepticon leader was firing on the Quintesson ship, and didn't even look over to demand, "What took you so long? Where were you when I needed you?" Cyclonus landed even more awkwardly behind him, his left hand holding his injured right shoulder even as he raised his gun to join the fighting.

There wasn't much of the Decepticon strike team left. Scavenger and Hook had collected the other four Constructicons and were trying to repair them under fire. Scourge couldn't see a single Sweep around, and Astrotrain was leaking energon badly. The Autobots were gone, but Quintesson star-bombs were tearing up the rocky landscape around them.

The unattended time window deposited one more form, slender and green. "You can't just --"

"Autobot!" Galvatron shrieked, spinning to aim at Beta. Cyclonus dove, tackling her and knocking her out of the way of Galvatron's blast, though he took part of the energy across his back. One of the consoles sizzled, and the time window sputtered, reality collapsing back across its haze.

"Cyclonus, turning traitor?" Galvatron asked incredulously, his voice the all-too-reasonable tone he used when particularly violently angry or insane, just before he erupted into senseless destruction.

Beta started to draw her weapon, aiming at Galvatron, but Cyclonus shoved it away. "Galvatron is our leader! How dare you threaten him?"

Galvatron laughed, and whatever response Beta might have made died on her lips. "She's an Autobot, Cyclonus."

"Mighty Galvatron, I can explain everything." Cyclonus put himself in between Beta and Galvatron.

"You had better explain why you are protecting her!" Galvatron's voice rose again. He took aim again, just in time for the shock wave from a nearby star bomb detonation to throw them all to the ground. Behind them, the time window lay in a ruined mess.

"We have Quintessons to fight!" Cyclonus opened fire on the turning cruiser. Beta agreed, apparently, and knelt behind a boulder for cover while she aimed.

"You will explain!" Galvatron shouted in closer to his normal voice. "When we are back on Charr! Decepticons, retreat! This place is useless to us now!"

Scourge caught a glimpse of Beta's face as she realized she could not return to her own time, just before Cyclonus dragged her by the arm after the other Decepticons. She could not fly, and after a moment she clung to him of her own accord, optics slitted with otherwise-unexpressed sorrow and horror.

"An unexpected turn of events," Definita commented. "We must consider why we did not predict the Autobots' attempt to rescue the Decepticons."

"Perhaps it followed temporarily from the change we made in history," the Scientist suggested, but was ignored.

"It will serve," Collaborata replied to Definita. "The Decepticon rebellion has begun," spin, click. "But it will not last long without its instigator."

Like a glass of celebratory champagne, the two Judges shared a chuckle. Only the Scientist remained concerned, muttering to himself about not perceiving a change in history.

"When will we know?" Collaborata asked the Scientist.

"I am calibrating the sensors for causal interference patterns," the Scientist replied obliquely.

"Proceed."

"Of course I can rebuild it." Hook sounded almost offended by Cyclonus's question. "I memorized it the first time."

Beta hoped fervently the Constructicon was not overconfident. From the looks of things, he was her only way home. As much loyalty as Cyclonus commanded from the Decepticons due to his rank, charisma and obvious honor, the troops feared Galvatron more. She had her doubts that the Decepticons had found freedom even in this time.

"Repairs to your colleagues take precedence, of course," Cyclonus said smoothly.

"Of course." Hook returned to work, dismissing Cyclonus implicitly, despite the Constructicon's lower rank. Cyclonus steered Beta away lightly.

"How long will it take?" she asked him.

"A day or two," the Decepticon second answered vaguely, sounding more as if he wasn't sure than as if he didn't care. "Hook is extremely meticulous."

"That's reassuring," she said dryly. "I can't believe I -- Why didn't you say you were leaving?"

"There wasn't time. At least, we didn't think there was. We were stranded before because we weren't fast enough."

"You're talking to my chest again," she reminded him gently.

"You have my apology," he said, but despite his courtesy she noticed the sudden reserve in his voice, the slight change in his expression, the faint presence of hatred.

"Is it only the slave brand?" she asked him in sudden desperation. "Is it only the symbol you and all the Decepticons hate? Take it off! Sand it away! I hate it, I hate it more than you possibly could." She realized Hook and Scavenger were staring at her and clamped her jaw shut, looking down ... straight at Cyclonus's sigil. She quickly turned away from that, too.

"We'd be glad to," Scavenger offered, in an honestly helpful tone.

"When we are done with these repairs," Hook said firmly. She looked up, and realized the subtle expression on Cyclonus's face this time was pride, pride in her.

"If A-3 hadn't been constantly telling me to make it a symbol of freedom instead of shame..."

Cyclonus pointed to his own chest plate. "This is the symbol of freedom. Personal freedom, our rule of Cybertron and our commitment to defend it against any and all who would try to take it from us. The symbol you wear is the symbol of the peacemakers, who allow aliens onto Cybertron and ally themselves with anyone and everyone, no matter how untrustworthy. They sacrifice themselves for lower life-forms who only have a few years to live anyway. They have forgotten the proud old tradition we come from, and how your people struggled for the freedom they take for granted."

"Well put." It was Galvatron's voice. Beta stiffened as the Decepticon leader appeared in the doorway behind Cyclonus and walked around them. Cyclonus turned, always facing Galvatron, and Beta followed suit. "So you intend to make her a Decepticon before you send her back? And then send her back anyway?" His hand closed around Cyclonus's throat.

"Would you prefer we kept her, mighty Galvatron?"

"Well, since you're going to so much trouble..." Beta's hand clenched where her weapon should have been in it. Scavenger and Hook made themselves busy at the repair table, hoping to avoid Galvatron's unpredictable wrath. Galvatron dropped Cyclonus abruptly to his feet and turned to Beta, red eyes blazing. "Will you swear an oath of loyalty to the Decepticon cause?"

Would she swear by what Cyclonus had just described? "Yes," she replied, amazed that he even thought he had to ask. "For freedom, for Cybertron's sovereignty and to defend it against any and all who would have it otherwise, you have my hand, my weapon and my spirit until it passes from my body."

"Destruction to all Autobots?" Galvatron challenged.

"Destruction to all Autobots!" She scowled, optics narrowed. "For I am not one, and never was. This symbol is a double shame. Take it from me."

Galvatron raised his arm cannon, aiming it point-blank at the offending sigil. When Beta did not flinch, he lowered the weapon. A smile spread across his face, and there was a chilling trace of insanity in it. "Welcome to the Decepticons, Beta."

Cyclonus turned to the Constructicons. "If she is to fight beside us in this time, she will need to be able to transform and fly," he commented pointedly.

"Do it!" Galvatron waved airily and walked out.

"When those repairs are complete," Cyclonus amended wearily.

"I have no objection to returning to my own time as a transforming Decepticon, if I am to return," Beta told him, a malicious smile crossing her face. "Think how much more damage I could do."

"You were always meant to be a Decepticon," Cyclonus assured her. "A true warrior, not one of those primitives and weaklings from your time."

"When will they repair you?" she asked suddenly, indicating his shoulder.

Cyclonus shrugged, demonstrating its functionality. "It can wait."

Scavenger got to her sigil much sooner than she expected, apparently dismissed by Hook for some procedure that did not require an assistant. She stood still while he knelt before her, looking at his "tail" and wondering what she would look like as a Transformer. Cyclonus's wings were graceful and attractive features, his cockpit subtle, his whole design symmetrical and sleek as well as powerful. The Constructicons, on the other hand...

Scourge entered, followed by a row of lookalike Decepticons Beta supposed were the Sweeps, arriving back from patrol. Scourge regarded her without expression, then nodded and raised his fist across his chest in the Decepticon salute. Beta started to return it but a yelp from Scavenger reminded her that he was working in that area. Two of the Sweeps smiled. Scourge chuckled and moved on. Without complaint, and as hastily as if it were his mistake, Scavenger fixed the purple streak she had caused herself. She refrained from sighing, keeping her thoughts well-hidden as she wondered how long a Decepticon could work under Galvatron before being reduced to this, cringing and too eager to please, like a slave.

No, the proud Cyclonus would never flinch away from an anticipated reprimand, she told herself. Galvatron could do his worst and at least one Decepticon would retain his dignity.

"Will I look like a Sweep when I can transform?" Beta asked Scavenger conversationally.

"No, no, I'm sure you won't. Your body won't ...no, we couldn't make you into something like that. You'd have to ask Scrapper what you will look like. He'll design it, and Hook will do most of it." Even that question had made him anxious.

"Is Scrapper repaired yet?"

"He was the first one."

"What are the others like?" Anything to pass the time. Anything to give Scavenger back his self-worth.

"Bonecrusher's the best in a fight. He sounds surly, but he knows how to relax. Longhaul would rather fight, but he always does his job. You can count on him." He paused, and Beta guessed Longhaul must have been seriously damaged just doing his job, whatever his job was. "Mixmaster's brilliant, but different. Hard to understand until you know him like we do. They're all really nice. You'll love them."

"I can tell you do." Beta restrained a chuckle. Nice? She doubted it. Worthy of her respect? That she could believe. "And it goes without saying that they're the best anywhere at their jobs. All of you."

"Uh huh." He gave her one last polishing stroke and stood. "There. You're finished. Want a look? There's a --" Beta had already found the reflective surface and surveyed the new sigil.

"Perfect."

"Excellent." Cyclonus looked Beta over approvingly. Even still without an alternate mode, she began to resemble a proper Decepticon warrior. She had been given back her weapon, and her attitude and posture no longer were at odds with the sigil she wore. "You are one of us now. A functional tour of Trypticon is in order." He gestured around the black and silver walls. He had the time, and he wanted to be present as she settled in, to influence her. Duty had taken him away too long already, taking up the slack where others were still in repair bay.

"Trypticon? That sounds more like a person than a place."

Cyclonus chuckled. "Trypticon is a Transformer. A primitive, but he is a person, as you say."

Beta looked around her, startled. "All of this ... we're inside someone?"

"Yes. Sometimes he fights, but rarely. Both sides' forces are spread too thin for the kind of battles he excels at winning."

"He is the largest Transformer?" she inquired.

"Second-largest." He cut the words off in a way that suggested she not ask more. He would not lie, but if she were to assume he meant Trypticon's Autobot counterpart Metroplex, so much the better. "The hangar. Trypticon has several exits, but this is the primary point of departure for flying vehicles. Air strikes are launched from here, and any time Astrotrain is in shuttle mode."

The tour kept them away from abstract or free-ranging conversation. Although the information was at times dreadfully dull, it was both plentiful and necessary. How to work the consoles, where to go if Galvatron sent for her, access codes, emergency procedures, how not to get stuck in some inconvenient body part if Trypticon transformed... He pretended to ignore the glances other Decepticons gave them in passing, because none of them were disrespectful, though a few could only be called speculative. Let the troops see that Beta was his personal charge and under his protection. Her former alliance and her small form might encourage harassment, but they would give her space and courtesy out of respect for him, in the same way that no Decepticon in his right mind, save Galvatron himself, would pick on an individual Sweep.

They were walking along the top surface of Trypticon, and he was running out of information to deliver, when she turned to him. "I won't insult you by comparing you to our mutual tentacled enemy, but don't you ever relax? Joke? Enjoy yourself? Show any unrestrained emotion?"

Flabbergasted by the accusation as well as the abrupt change of subject, he stared at her for a good several second before finding his voice. "Not when carrying out administrative duties, no." She must hear the humor that colored his tone now... or at least the emphasis on "administrative".

"I'm not talking about the tour. I would've done the same thing, deliver the information as efficiently as possible. I meant over the entire time I've known you, I have only seen you react on instinct once, and that was when you took that shot for me." Her forefinger poked him in the chest plate. "Daring in battle, yes. But you are always deliberate... restrained. Prudent. Inhibited."

"Inhibited!" Cyclonus exclaimed, and then smiled slightly. "If only you could fly." Not that Cyclonus ever let anyone else fly with him when he used his off-duty time to hone his skills. He preferred to be alone with the forces of nature, and perhaps a mindless drone he could consider an enemy, when he tested his limits. But for Beta, he thought he might make an exception... once... if she could keep up.

She returned the smile. It was a rare expression on her face, and he noticed that it still communicated her pride. "And how long will that take?" she asked, as if he needed the reminder that she would soon be able to.

Beta would have pointed out that he considered his next move for nearly three seconds before taking it, but for Cyclonus, that was acting impulsively. He transformed. "Get in." It wasn't quite an order. She didn't object.

Although Cyclonus was not that much taller than her in robot mode, she fit comfortably in his cockpit, to her surprise. Cyclonus didn't relish explaining subspace to her -- it was supposed to be intuitive! He took off, giving Soundwave a vague flight plan over the radio, and accelerated out into deep space.

"Alright, that's a start," she said, casually propping one wrist behind her head. "Get you away from your men. Where are we going?"

Cyclonus thought of correcting her; they weren't his troops, they were Galvatron's. She didn't sound as if she meant anything by it, and he answered her question instead. "A better place for flying. Charr is dull, except for the old city. Besides, I wanted to be alone."

"With me? I'm flattered."

He let the bait pass, regretting his choice of words. They flew in silence for a time, Beta using the chance to examine his console. She peered closely at his navigational array, tapping the clear cover over a readout that was useless in space. He made a mental note not to expect her to immediately find her way anywhere when she was first given flight.

Cyclonus's secret haven was a primitive organic world, known to the Decepticons and who knew how many others, but virtually ignored. It was inhabited by a few macroscopic life-forms, but none sentient. The active geology interested him more, and there was plenty of interesting terrain for all-out flight. Usually he made do with Charr, because he had little free time, but he had no intention of showing Beta anything less than the best part of being a Decepticon. That, and she had stung his pride. She presented a challenge, and he had accepted.

He dove into the atmosphere, leveling off just above the level of the foliage, which was nearly flattened from the shock wave rolling off his sleek form. He ascended into the mountain range and wove between the peaks, the echoes of his own sonic boom rattling them both. She leaned forward in delighted terror as they plunged into a ravine, accelerating along its length and banking into a sharp turn to follow it around a near corner. He climbed again, easing the pace somewhat, to let her survey the territory, over which, in a way, he felt they had just asserted dominion.

"What's that?" She pointed to a distant moving form, one of the local creatures, running from them.

"Target practice." He banked and chased after it.

Her fingers closed around his weapons controls. "May I?"

"For this." No one but Galvatron had ever so much as touched those controls before. He allowed no one to fly him, and few to ride. He doubted she knew how much she asked of him.

He gave her a clear shot, passing over the fleeing brown organic. Her timing was perfect, and one more ugly primitive left their plane of existence. He came to a stop just above a ridge, transforming so that she ended up in his arms, and landed lightly, setting her on her feet. "Have I convinced you that I am not inhibited?" he demanded, a slight smile on his face reflecting both residual pleasure from the flight and an acknowledgement of her personally.

"Not a bit!" She lifted her chin defiantly. "That was most enjoyable, but you were always in control."

"Of course!" He drew his head and shoulders back, offended. "It's a matter of skill!"

She laughed. "I was thinking something more like this." She lunged at him, driving her shoulder into his stomach and sending both of them tumbling off the ridge. She grabbed at his arms, preventing him from catching himself or flying, and they fell, slid, and rolled down into the valley below.

Neither one immediately tried to get up, nor did Cyclonus try to extract the arm that Beta was lying on. He did kick away an organic ...thing they had dislodged in their fall, something that didn't quite constitute a tree and wasn't spiny enough for a cactus. "I wasn't expecting that from you," he teased. "If that's what you call letting go, then why don't you?"

She sighed and flashed a smile, one that showed some vulnerability. "I hadn't felt comfortable enough. Even in my time we were always on the run."

He assisted her to her feet, not that she needed it, and left his arm around her shoulders as they walked aimlessly. "And if that's you," he persisted, "What do you see in A-3?"

"Jealous?" she taunted, matching her steps to his so that she could be that much closer to him, like a fluid extension of his own body.

"No, he's just the prototypical Autobot." Cyclonus shrugged. "I can't admire him like the rebels do, and I don't find him interesting. He neither has nor wants power -- physical power, like flight, or to conquer and rule."

She took a long step suddenly, wheeling on her toe to stand right in his path. She stopped and held him there with a hand flat over his chestplate sigil. "I am jealous," she announced, optics narrowing at the corners with either anger or determination.

"Of whom? I have no other --"

"I am jealous of Galvatron," she interrupted. "As long as he has you, no one else can. I am, but I refuse to let it cloud my judgement. I have not done one thing to earn the loyalty you show him, no matter how much I desire it."

"He is our leader. Both of ours." Cyclonus shook his head uncomprehendingly. "The loyalty we both owe him is separate from --"

"No. It isn't." She paused, in what would have been a deep breath had breathing been necessary. "That -- what I just told you -- is why I must go back to my own time." She put her fingertips over his lips, preventing him from speaking. "I am a Decepticon and will always be a Decepticon, Cyclonus, whether I am one now or then. I can help those troops you saw liberate the rest of the standing slave armies from their holding camps on the other side of Cybertron. We will conquer Cybertron. And in eleven million years, my frame of reference..." She lifted her head in the proud way that suited her so well. "I will see you again. I promise."

"But how will I find you?" he burst out.

Her optics dimmed briefly, but she never looked away. "I wish I knew," she said softly.

Beta had determined that despite the apparent higher ranks of Galvatron and Cyclonus, the Decepticon Army was in fact run by Soundwave. At least, Soundwave was the only one left in Trypticon who knew that Cyclonus, Beta, Scourge, several Sweeps, and the Constructicons had returned to the ruined time window to repair it. The Constructicons repaired, anyway. The others stood guard or flew patrols.

"Sweep Four reporting. Nothing found."

Scourge nodded. "Good. Continue." The exchange was familiar by now, but Beta appreciated its efficiency as well as its reassuring predictability.

"It's ready," Scrapper announced.

Cyclonus acknowledged the Constructicon with a nod. "I will accompany Beta to her time. When I return safe, you may power down the window."

She stood beside him for a few more seconds, looking at the faint outlines of Cybertron through the silvery haze. She nodded, and together they jumped through, her hand lightly resting on his gauntlet.

They didn't make it all the way through in contact, but she was too pragmatic to be surprised by that. Cybertron itself, on the other hand, surprised her. She stared around at the bright, open street, the golden buildings, the two mechs a few hundred meters away. They had wings, broader than the ones on Cyclonus's back, with the Decepticon sigil clearly visible on each one, though upside down. Transformers!

"Look who's here," the black one with the lavender highlights said, and the blue one chuckled. They both aimed their arm turrets at her and opened fire. She looked around frantically, but Cyclonus was nowhere in sight, though the time window was still open. She wasted no more time in jumping back through it.

Scrapper looked surprised. "I thought he was coming back and --"

"Where is he?" Beta demanded.

Scrapper shook his head, waving at the time window. If he had meant to speak, he never got the chance, because Cyclonus emerged right then, transformed and landed facing Beta. "Where were you?" he shouted.

"I went through! You weren't there and it was the wrong time!"

"It was the right time and you weren't there!"

"Enough!" Scourge separated the two. "It must be malfunctioning."

Cyclonus accepted that, calming himself with a visible effort. "Shut the window down and find out what happened," he ordered.

"Yes sir." Scrapper went to confer with his teammates. Reality folded back in across the window, erasing that golden bit of history she had so briefly experienced.

Cyclonus drew Beta to him, and whether the embrace was intended for comfort or apology, she accepted it gratefully.

"Don't just stand there!" Scourge told his Sweeps. They returned to their posts and resumed their patrol routines.

Beta settled on a rock and pulled out her copy of the coda remote, wondering if that piece of technology, even inactive, had somehow caused the time window to malfunction. Unlike A-3, she did not wear it on the back of her sigil, but in her shoulder guard. As she turned it over in her hands the disguised side was blank.

"The window distinguishes between Autobots and Decepticons," Scrapper reported. "It segregates them into different times." He looked at her directly. "It thinks you are still an Autobot." She could not tell if he was actually accusing her of disloyalty.

"Yeah, so did those Decepticons on the other side," she muttered, flicking her fingers so that the coda remote waved in her hand like a fan. She put it away, picking up her crossbow as she stood. "Have you fixed it?"

"We switched the t-times," Mixmaster giggled gleefully. He might be less sane than Galvatron, but Beta found Mixmaster much more tolerable. He was more eclectic than violent. "Autobots go to your time, Decepticons go to w-whenever that was."

"Then I cannot accompany you. You must go alone." Cyclonus rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll be fine," she assured him, knowing perfectly well he was merely reluctant to say goodbye.

"We know how long it takes now," Longhaul pointed out.

She stood just in front of the time window, her back to it, and saluted the Decepticons. "For the glory of Cybertron!"

"Beta!" A-3 raced across to her, heedless of the Quint ramparts close by. Wait, Quints? Those were Decepticons standing atop the walls, mixed with a few Autobots. She leaned into A-3's arms, beaming with relief as the time window vanished. "I was worried about you," he continued. "When I went through I found myself in the middle of a battle I didn't know how to fight."

"I was stupid. I shouldn't have followed them through," she said. "But I learned some things." She looked up at him. "Like that Cybertron will be free one day. Free and powerful. We'll go out and settle other worlds, fly through space, be our own vessels."

A-3 shook his head, stepping back, as if he wanted to argue but couldn't find the words. Whatever hope she had held that he might share her conversion withered. Then he noticed her sigil. "Military hardware?"

She lifted her crossbow. "Do I not look military to you?" she challenged. Then more soberly she added, "In the future, this is the symbol of freedom. Keep yours if you want. I can't wear it with what I've seen. I will go with the soldiers when they fight the Quints for their brethren. We'll need them to defend Cybertron."

"Beta!" he called as she walked away, but she never looked back.

He did not activate his optics immediately upon returning to consciousness, running an internal diagnostic first out of curiosity, and perhaps a trace of vanity. He felt heavier, weighted down with parts necessary for transformation, and stronger to compensate. Along his right arm was an additional weight, an imposing weapon that he had seen built before the rest of the changes.

"Very well done," he said, finally activating his vision. The green femme smiled, a proud, malicious smirk, and nodded without speaking. His creator, a would-be shadow ruler. He would have to dispose of her quickly, now that he had the power he craved. Or did he? He stood up, testing his range of motion, and looked down at himself, at the purple sigil on his silver chest. He grew more pleased with this body by the minute.

"Try it out," she suggested softly. "Transform."

He did, and ended up lying on the floor, a weapon with no one to fire him. She picked him up and examined him, then set him down again to transform back. At least there had been few witnesses! He would have to perfect a better way of doing that, he thought, facing away from her to consider.

"You shall be called Megatron," she said, and then added in a lower voice, perhaps expecting him not to hear, "A million times what Galvatron ever was."

He puzzled briefly over the words, then dismissed them. Who she compared him to was irrelevant. He had a far more important destiny. He walked to the door and palmed it open. Light poured in from the sky, shining off golden buildings. He brought his arm to his chest, fist clenched, saluting Cybertron itself. "To Decepticon glory," he said. "And conquest!"