Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews. Twists and fun still coming, hang in there. Not all is as dark and dismal as it seems. Onward to having days that make no sense and surviving them anyways.

TF – Transformers

"Contact!" Prowl's shout, with its uncharacteristic volume and excitement created reactions. The humans in the military hangar froze or looked over in curiosity while Jazz tilted his helm, his internal music pausing. The Autobot Second in Command had been directing the search for any sign of the missing girl mixed among his regular duties. If all the connections were not fully authorized though human networks or satellites no bot cared. The Transformers were beyond asking for permission over their activities, especially involving their own. They knew human officials monitored everything they did, reporting back to Pentagon advisers and other interested agencies. The shared NEST teams no longer a sign of cooperation but attempted control. Attempted on a group of beings use to dealing with Decepticon hackers who carried more sophisticated code to make a fist than all the earth made monitoring equipment hidden nearby. The Autobots search of critical importance to them but downgraded to an ongoing field reconnaissance by NEST, their military support offered if available and authorized.

Across the hangar, the highest ranking soldier present, Master Sergeant Epps hesitated with coffee cup in hand. The next actions could have him running down the stairs for his military combat gear or pouring his coffee and grabbing a doughnut before reading emails. He chose coffee as he watched Prowl working.

"Optics blue, no weapons out, and no pounding footsteps bouncing my cup as the others race to assemble here. All good so far. And chocolate with sprinkles or powdered sugar rounds? Better eat the chocolate, less mess on my uniform, " the soldier pondered grabbing his breakfast. Food was sometimes far and few between when the action happened. And around the Transformers, that usually meant explosions and running for cover not by any restaurant or food court.

Prowl leaned over the giant Autobot sized console, white metal fingers gliding above the panel directing earth orbiting satellites into different positions to lock in triangulation. His optics flared, widening out as the numbers formed. "Coordinates are PACIFIC OCEAN, 12.7590° S, 170.1046° W!"

"Your vacation spot?" Master Sergeant Epps asked. The soldier sipped his coffee, hearing the words Pacific Ocean and not knowing what his activities really were. Working on the human communications platform high in the air, he could see Prowl's monitor, the Cybertronian glyphs beyond his ability to translate. He assumed the mech had been creating another list of rules.

Prowl's optics narrowed, traces of red coloring floating through before the mech spun around. Three running steps towards the open hangar doors and he surprised them again, their jaws dropping as he rocketed out into the open air. His arms were held out straight in front of him, the mech's wing doors angling partially back to overlap his frame as he soared out and over disappearing behind the next building.

"He flies?" Epps choked out, the coffee drops running down his chin. The ones spit on the computer monitor slowly trailed down the glass surface to mix with assorted crumbs across the keyboard.

"You heard that rumor about him being part Seeker?" Jazz smirked while leaning sideways on the communications railing, his blue visor flaring brightly. As the only other Autobot in the hangar, he had their undivided attention.

"Yeah?"

"It's not a rumor," Jazz stated calmly while flexing a clawed hand. "And he values clan and family ties highly. Loyalty makes him a great officer."

"So? We all value that."

"Seekers are born with it encoded into their spark. Trines, cohorts, and clans mean everything to them. And Annabelle is apparently adopted into his grouping by that reaction. Only reason I know my rule bot would jet to the landing field to meet Ironhide for a rescue run. Broke his and Prime's rule about never flying on earth responding to the team call."

"What rescue?"

"Annabelle?"

"I heard nothing! What call?"

"Oh, I heard it on command encryption. Little above your energon grade," the spy smirked again, standing up straight. The black and white mech enjoyed keeping them in suspense, buying his bots the short time they needed before any human would try to countermand. "Orders are for me to stay here and help guard parents with you all. Skyfire is going to hyper straight up like a NASA launch to catch the jet stream and drop in unannounced free falling. That much G force strains our systems, fatal to you humans."

"Then order the Aerialbots here. Or give us the exact coordinates and we can have the nearest Air support run cover or help. Like in Egypt and other countries," Epps countered, speed dialing the command officer above him. The numbers quoted already lost out of his memory other than being in the Pacific. The phone signal failed, the connection jammed as all other connections were if anyone had been watching computers or their phones.

"Aerialbots are returning with Elita's team and Grimlock and will be joining us. Probably going to give boss bot an audio full about being denied a ride along. You can take it up with Prime if you want. Course he is in a Joint Chiefs meeting right now and unavailable except for extreme emergencies," the spy smirked, nodding towards the East. Out on the landing field Skyfire blasted nearly straight up, the Autobot team strapped inside and going silent. Jazz added his well wishes after Prime's on the last of the signal link.

Prime stood at the same console hours later, receiving the team's report. The blue and red armored warrior stood tall as he received the encrypted broadcast. The hangar cleared of all humans except Sergeant Epps and the only other Autobot in attendance Jazz as Third in Command. Prime had shut down all complaints and questions by refusing to answer them beyond "Decepticon monitoring suspected," for both the mission attendance and why signals kept failing. Technically it was Decepticon technology interfering with the human equipment, the program stolen by Jazz and Prowl centuries before on Cybertron and kept as an identifier for modern communications of old plans. The hanger recorder feed looping endlessly and registering nothing of the current conversation. On the monitor screen, the trio stood in a grass field on a tropical island, Skyfire's red and white armor of his alt mode in the background.

"Our presence remains undetected and we are waiting for a Department of Defense satellite to move out of the near orbit for our launch and return," Prowl continued the briefing. Behind him Ironhide reached out, tapping his mate to stop and turn to the side.

"What is that Mia?" The small foreign substance registered as Cybertronian metal but soft white in color. The small piece carried no energy signature, explosive residue or internal components. Embedded in Chromia's blue shoulder armor it was barely noticeable, spotted by Ironhide as he checked her over.

The femme smirked, reaching back and pulling out the triangular object. "One of Scylla fangs apparently."

"She bit you?" Prime blinked, trying to imagine the force required to shear the metal.

"Took exception to me breaking off some of her squid arms apparently. She was too busy gesturing at Red Wing while screaming 'He did it! He took the fleshing!' to register my command to stand down. I helped her understand the down part," Chromia stated calmly. The small piece went into a small metal box before being subspaced away. A box full of pieces and parts no bot ever asked where they all came from, her private trophy collection.

"Red Wing?"

"No wings, no claws and online. Floating on an escape raft. Filled his audios with warnings about touching anything that is ours ever again," Prowl updated. His wing doors bore scorch marks and small claw rends but were hinged upright. The faint purple shading to his optics no bot mentioned and deliberately avoiding staring into.

"Dirge?"

"Funeral dirge," Ironhide grunted, shrugging human style. His right side armor had pieces missing and deep rends in the outer metal across his spark armor, undeniably rent by larger Seeker claws. "More accident than design. Stepped in front of a blast he shouldn't have. Went instantly and spectacularly as his own missiles blew. Cons can deal with the shell pieces later."

"Any useful information?" Prime asked, imaging Megatron's reaction. The temptation to call and tell him personally flashed into Prime's processor and back out. He no longer had the Warlord's active frequency code and without visuals, the effect would not be the same. But knowing he would be enraged at the Autobot attack was enough to settle his spark.

"Annabelle was alive when Soundwave arrived. Security footage ceased when he walked in. Nothing from there. They said he left with her to an unknown location. Needs her for a plan he didn't share. Tower was on total communications blackout, keeping it hid. Already transferred the technology design to Wheeljack to counter build for," Prowl reported.

"Smart girl hid a tracker spare on the floor and Red Wing's feet pads on a console turned the jamming off apparently," Ironhide noted.

"Is that why you left him online?"

"Nah. Need his type of diode glitched dim wittery in the Con army. Keep making mistakes that help us. And carry the warning," Ironhide explained.

"You trust their information?"

"Ripped out a few processors and an arm or two and their story didn't change," Chromia clarified.

"Ah, I see." Torture of prisoners solely for pain or revenge had been expressly forbidden as one of his first war commands. Prime trusted Prowl to see the rule enforced with the mated warriors, no matter how badly they wanted information. He almost pitied Soundwave when they fought next, almost.

"Superion is tall even for a combiner but those waters are known for deep sea fishing. Process it sucks being a feet combiner on land in muck or sand? Their whole form would have sunk," Jazz noted. Left behind, he had fielded the others anger especially when refusing to give them the coordinates. Prowl's optic color not the worst shading Jazz had seen on him but still concerning. A good debrief and relaxing with high grade would help them both.

"Grimlock would have smashed the tower into bits free falling in," Prowl noted.

"How are we going to explain the damaged ruins? With the location known, the Cons will strip then abandon it, leaving some traces behind," Chromia asked.

"Blame a tropical cyclone. Rips through there a couple of times every year. Sea life will take over and that deep sea hides a lot of secrets," Epps advised. Will and Sarah remained secured with Hound and the others to be relayed information after Command verified. Both a protection and a chance for them to prepare the parents for the best or the worse based on what they found.

"Bad when even the planet works against Cons," Jazz teased.

DECEPTICON REMOTE BASE - ABANDONED

Annabelle stirred, recognizing the soft clicks and whirrs of Cybertronian mechanical sounds. The hard surface underneath felt cooler than any recharge berth and lacked the warmth of powered armor as she rolled over. The triple pitch of a transform registered as normal, the scraping sounds as parts flowed into recognizable shapes softer in pitch and shorter as though less parts were needed.

Multiple spark pulses registered if dimly, close by and at her level. She opened her eyes, blinking to clear them before rubbing them with chubby fists. Her legs felt stiff but moved when stretched and why had she been sleeping in her good school clothes on the metal floor? Her friends always carried and put her somewhere safe least she get stepped on or rolled over accidentally. A half-stifled yawn and a head shake helped to focus as she sat up to see the room.

"Morning small fry," the Decepticon greeted her. She felt a second of panic, his name momentarily escaping her with the sheer surprise of seeing a cassette handing over her backpack. Taller than her standing, the blue armored warrior resembled a human with two feet and arms and head, his faction symbol clear as his red optics. Grabbing the camouflage colored backpack close, she looked around. The plain room held seven cassette warriors in various forms of clawed, winged and hoofed modes. And all of them Decepticon. None held weapons, only the attached modifications and unpowered, which she missed as they surrounded and watched her stand. Ravage crept closer, bending down to sniff her shoes.

"Hello doggie or kitty? You better be nice."

Growling, the mech nipped at her shoes to show his dominance.

Next door, Soundwave pinched his nose plates above his facemask at the echoing thudding sounds and screams through the metal wall.

"Calculate disturbance of human." Rising, he wondered if Prime had similar problems with his troops understanding simple commands. The laboratory doors closed behind him and locked.

"Cease playtime," he ordered, striding in as cassettes bounced off the walls and ran away from the human chasing them with a Transformer mini sword in each hand. Annabelle's braid was undoing, blonde hair swinging as she swore in middle Cybertronian while backing two of them into a tight corner. The tall blue mech scanned the room intently, verifying none of his were damaged. Her Prime power could have ripped any of them apart instead of waving her blades to make them back away.

A high pitched whine had Soundwave tilting his head up to see the black cassette hanging upside down from the highest light attachment.

"Return Ravage to floor."

"He started it," she pouted, sliding the blades across her backpack to lock them on for quick grabbing.

In the corner, Rumble stood up reaching behind his back at the shape holding on. "Get off you winged turnkeytron!" Giant bat shaped wings uncurled as Ratbat stretched, hissing at the human. In the rafter perches above, a half screech echoed as Buzzsaw flowed out his massive wings mocking the smaller cassette for hiding.

"Accept cassettes guard. Ordered protect. Environment unsafe. "

"Unsafe? Underwater was safe so are we inside a volcano? Where lava is the floor? Or way underground like that wormy spinner drone that made a mess in Russia? Where am I this time?" She asked, getting to the point.

"Show small fleshling." Soundwave stated, deliberately using the words to make a point. Rumble grumbled about why he had to always do all the work as he keyed the massive metal plate back to reveal a darkened window. The rising sun's rays crossed the yellow metal surface, creating shadows of broken shapes as the ruins revealed themselves, scorched and jagged edges jutting barely above ground level among craters and blackened metal pits.

"Welcome to Cybertron."

EARTH – NEST Joint Base

Optimus hesitated, trying to process words of comfort. He knew the Autobots and humans alike looked to him for support and inspiration. It was situations like this that tempted him to join Ultra Magnus and be only a soldier. Let another make the hard choices, face the great pain and suffering with regret when his best as their Prime wasn't enough. The search continued and they were no closer to finding Annabelle than when she was taken from the school bus. Despair lurked on his emotional edges, the recharge warning overrode for the fourth time. He needed rest and they needed him to pull off another miracle in an impossible situation.

Instead of cuddling with his spark mate in their own quarters, he was doing the very thing he hated the most. Feeling confined in an office waiting for the universe to grant him any sign to the direction he should lead. And nothing appeared. No glow of light off his Matrix, no whispered words in his audios or presences of those gone before appeared to reveal what they could not find as others thought a Prime would receive. It didn't work that way. He had nothing, and the universe waited for him to move first. Aching in his processors, Optimus reached out with his spark.

Hope flowed back through their private link and he smiled, pulling in her comforting pulse. Elita knew him, knew he would be in pain and was reaching back through their bonded connection to reassure. ::Thank you dearest. Rest :: he sent. The gritty edges as their energies interwove confirming his suspicions she was delaying her own recharge, holding on to be there for him when needed.

And the feeling of gloom passed. He could no longer quit being Prime than he could give up his beloved spark mate. He had not failed either yet, nor would he willingly if there remained a drop of energon in him.

Venting deeply, he retrieved the first data pad, not really seeing the list of possible locations. His optics scanned the desktop across the assorted pads and items there, including human sized furniture. He focused on a picture frame gifted from Annabelle years before to celebrate her summer break spent with the Transformers.

He smiled, remembering the day he got it. Wheeljack had sealed dozens of dandelions inside its thin clear resin in their white seed stage. The little seeds spreading out from the main plant as though blowing in the wind. Crayon lettering spelled out words in English. Some see a weed, some see a wish. I wish you happiness and a long spark time. To Opie, Love Annabelle.

'A simple plant conveying a message my teachers had tried countless ways to teach me as a young Prime. To see beyond what others did, to find a solution with what I had. A weed that has been found all over this planet. Even made it onto the space shuttle, the small pieces carried far by the wind. No limitation to where it can end up,' he pondered. Then it clicked.

His optics blazed as the pieces suddenly fit together. The picture frame clanged onto the desktop, dropped as he ran for the door.

::Prowl! Get with Wheeljack and recalibrate all the trackers. Expand to maximum reach. Meet me at the hangar:: Prime sent on their highest command link.

::We already have covered the entire planet and seas. Why?:: Prowl responded, wondering at the excitement in his leader's vocals. Prowl's recharge warning remained offline, self disabling it with a line of code borrowed out of Mirage's saboteur files and he felt his perceptions slowing, interfering with his calculations.

::Maximum outer search including Cybertron. Use the satellite relays on Cybertron's moon bases that are left. Get with Solspark or Silverblade if necessary for the codes and coordinates. And across this solar system. We missed Soundwave hiding as a satellite in far orbit and the temporary base on Mars when they destroyed the lunar lander. Her tracker is our tech and recorded by our systems automatically in passing even if no bot is monitoring:: Prime

::You believe Annabelle is off world?:: Ironhide chimed in, his tone questionable. Waiting for any sign as time dragged by without a response had been wearing on his existence. Now he had questionable hope.

::I believe anything is possible old friend. Soundwave was a researcher before he joined Megatron and her knowledge would be invaluable to him on our home, not hers :: Prime encouraged.

Less than an hour later and Prowl's shout filled the hanger area again. "Prime!"

"I see it Prowl," the aged leader chuckled at his Second in Command's behavior. The other Autobots cheered or vented deeply in reaction at the same instant. Each had contributed a part and saw their combined work rewarded. Streams of location data began rolling up the screen.

The nearby empty communications platform suffering another power loss before their arrival, as did the cameras and tracking systems installed and no human nearby to see. The soldiers guarding outside continued their patrols, unaware and not caring about the Autobots inside the building, their radios working and controlled by Jazz as he perched hidden on the roof like a silent gargoyle.

"Confirm Annabelle is functional and on Cybertron," Prowl stated.

"Soundwave had to have used a space bridge to arrive home within a quarter of a joor of leaving the undersea base. Shockwave helped develop the technology with my old mentor but it was lost about the time Sentinel Prime and the Ark Four went missing. I wonder how they did it? The power needs should have blacked out a small city to enfold her fragile body in a stable transwarp field. Any of us no, use half a dozen energon cubes at best for our transport," Wheeljack theorized.

"Her galaxy wide tracker ain't steady. How come?" Ironhide grumbled, relieved but needing to see her and hold her before he celebrated.

"Multiple reasons," Solspark reminded, the femme their best on long distance communications. "Too far under the surface, jammed by Decepticons or without coverage, the stations destroyed or abandoned during the fighting. She is not in a major city or patrolled area and on the move."

"Do we have any Autobot scouts or teams nearby?" Optimus asked, trying to remember the area.

"Negative. Not listed as a zone of critical importance. An ancient outpost by the Mithril Sea," Prowl stated, their records showing little more than an ancient map and a few details for scouting.

"I remember that area," Wheeljack muttered, his side bars flashing mixed emotions. "Wasn't that where the Cons got trapped but Rook negotiated a truce? Showing we were not out to commit genocide if they laid down their weapons?"

"Yes. But there is more to the story. The adult Decepticons offered themselves to be offlined if our forces promised to leave the area after. They were waiting to rendezvous and getting desperate while surrounded. Turns out they had the last of their younglings with them, several injured or too young to fly far. Rook negotiated for all of them to leave safely, knowing the younger would not survive long without adult seeker care," Ratchet explained.

"It was the right thing to do. The ship to carry them across the Sea sunk after hitting a Decepticon mine near its home port, never to arrive," Jazz continued telling.

"We gave them two of the old fuel barges to cross in, verifying their course but not interfering. They arrived safely and disappeared off tracking systems," Elita explained, sharing a look with her mate. The barges from their history, a use from their rebirth to aid an enemy too young to even know who they were.

"The sea was formed in the great cataclysm and hides a vault said to guard the original Primes legacy from destruction. No bot ever found it and several search teams disappeared in the attempts, never found their shells, only half eaten gear parts," Silverblade told the legend, one of the few who had seen it with her own optics and returned unharmed from a random patrol there.

"The land is unstable and ancient and uninhabited containing only a few core metals of no value and remote. Once the war began, it lost significance except for an outpost," Hound added, his scouting records the only official ones.

"The Cons calculated we would not damage the area because of the value to our history or they too would have ignored it instead of trying to escape across it."

"And now?"

"We need to rescue Annabelle before Soundwave no longer needs her."

To be continued…

and admit it, you read part of that in Soundwave's monotone. "Keep reading. Surprise to come."