On the final screen of Prowl's assimilation packet for newly-arrived Autobots, we were instructed to choose a unique holoform and a corresponding human designation for it. Apparently it wasn't enough to simply translate (as best as possible) our Cybertronian names; hiding in plain sight required undercover code names. We were allowed to make reference to our Cybertronian designation or its translation, but it had to be a name we could find in their telephone and address communication databases. The screen also included links to several baby name websites. We were to have a preliminary holoform profile ready for use by 13:00 hours when our human integration training was to begin.

The baby name database returned a grand total of zero names with the meaning of "mirage," so I tried making reference to my origins and did a search for names meaning "prince." The very first result was "Amir." I recalled that Ironhide had used the holoform name Aaron Hyde and decided "Amir" would make a suitable first name if I could find something that sounded like "raj" for a last name. In the "R" section, the very first name meaning "prince" was Rajak. I couldn't find any Amir Rajak in the communication database, but there were several individuals with the name "Amir Raja." Another check of the baby name site indicated that "Raja" meant "Radiant King," so both designation and kin-name made reference to my noble heritage and had the added brilliance of sounding similar to the name Mirage. It was perfect.

With the name chosen, I needed to decide what Amir Raja would look like. "Raja" was from the Sanskrit language, leading me to research the language, ethnicities, and culture of India. Once I'd chosen a name and appearance, I used the remaining time before our training began to refine my mannerisms into something fit for a human prince.

When we reported to the Human Integration training ground, we were greeted by the Lennox femmes. Intellectually I knew that human females were as common as the males, but this mother and daughter were Autobots even if they were mostly water and carbon. I was in the presence of a femme dynasty that was at least as remarkable as any on Cybertron. Determined to make a good impression when it was my turn, I took Spitfire's servo in two of mine and gallantly said, "Amir Raja, at your service."

Her skin color deepened as blood rushed to the surface, much more disconcerting than seeing it in the humans' two-dimensional holoprograms.

"That's a little over the top, Mirage," she choked out, "though the name works very well. You might want to throttle back on the charm. Something like, 'It's a pleasure to meet you.' And only one hand unless you're attempting to initiate a mating relationship."

I immediately released her servo, mortally embarrassed, but she reached for me again, grasping my servo in the same way as the other mechs. "No offense taken, friend. You've been watching movies, haven't you."

Well, at least I didn't have to worry about Iron Will challenging me to a duel for attempting to seduce his femme. Probably - the man was too much like Ironhide to be certain on that score. In a nod to both her instructions and her bonded status, I said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lennox."

She praised the new greeting and explained why it was more appropriate before giving me permission to use her first name and Autobot designation. Once she'd greeted us all in turn, she gave us some final instructions on our holoform use and added, "To my human faction's leaders, you are refugees. To other humans you might visit while on assignment, you will be guests. But here, under my roof, you are family." Meeting our gazes one by one, she smiled with what looked like kindness and invited, "Won't you come in?"

Beaming with happiness, Cam Romero was the first to follow her and her daughter into the house, but I lagged behind. What worth was her pledge of kinship if it was so fleeting and frail that it only lasted while we were within the four walls of her home?

...

Eating proved to be more difficult than I anticipated. It required the rather complicated tasks of learning a completely new way to refuel while assimilating for mechanical use fuels that were never intended to be anything other than organic. And then there were the table manners that were every bit as telling about one's sophistication as were Cybertronian ones. I definitely had room for improvement, but neither Spitfire nor Firebrand corrected me.

The next stage in our human integration training was football. The rules were simple enough when compared to tournament games on Cybertron, and while brute force was an important part of the game, speed and agility seemed at least as decisive. With my holoform's build and natural parameters, I would be a perfect fit for receiver. For the first game, our squad played against Ironhide, Chromia, Arcee, Prowl, Skids and Mudflap. We lost, but it didn't sting as much as it might have considering it was our first time playing.

For the next hour or so after that, I simply observed my fellow Autobots interacting with humans, trying to decipher their rather amorphous body language. They had no door-wings, no antennas, no installed weapons, no optics to give away what they were feeling and thinking. The cues were much more subtle, the motion of their eyes, the distribution of body weight, and especially the constantly-changing line of their lips.

When it was time to eat Thanksgiving dinner, I took my place near Firebrand so that I could more easily observe her mannerisms. Spitfire was sitting with her mate and, after my faux pas earlier, I didn't want to be sending the wrong messages by sitting next to the older femme.

I was pleased that eating went more smoothly that time, especially since we'd added the extra complication of eating utensils. I agreed with Hound that the turkey meat was rather disconcerting - organics eating other organics - but then, even the plant-based fuel was organic in nature. According to what I'd read and seen, a well-mannered guest accepted what he was offered, and so I tried at least a little of everything (even if the yams were the exact same color as contaminated hydraulic fluid).

After dinner, another football game was organized, and misgiving filled me when both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe took up positions opposite me across the scrimmage line.

"Been a long time, Mirage," Sideswipe said in a low voice. While his holoform grin was difficult to decipher, I knew that tone. After Prowl and Red Alert, I was one of their favorite targets to harass when they were bored. Usually it involved "accidents" involving garish paint or pranks that were otherwise insulting to my dignity. I couldn't imagine them pulling that kind of stunt while in the middle of a human-integration training like this, but I knew these two too well to suppose that even the presence of the Prime...Primes would keep them completely in line.

I was right. When RaFly snapped the ball to Prowl, the twins both ploughed into me, their combined weight sending me sprawling face-down in the sand of the playing field. My holoform reflexively coughed as the twins rose to their feet, while my taste receptors processed the gritty, indigestible sand and...salt. Not the mild, carefully measured salt of food but the adulterated, cloying, corrosive salt of the vast oceans around us. I shuddered to realize I was coated with both now, the sand grinding into the folds of my skin and the salt dehydrating its surface. Fortunately my holoform took more damage from the impact than from the filth coating me, but it was unsettling nonetheless. Bumblebee came into my field of vision, ignoring the twins while extending a hand to pull me to my feet.

"You hurt?" he asked via an audio recording.

"I'm fine," I reassured him.

After I was knocked to the ground several more times, Prowl called different plays, splitting up Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. That brought only brief respite. We'd stopped their advance up the field, meaning that it was now our turn to play offense. Prime recognized that my holoform's build naturally inclined me toward the position of receiver and if he had any reservations about making me a clear target of the twins, he didn't express them. Bumblebee snapped the ball to Prime and then I was sprinting downfield, trying to get clear so that he could pass the ball to me. As expected the twins followed me relentlessly, but that left Evac open and he easily caught the ball when Optimus threw it to him. His run was so successful that he brought us within a few yards of the endzone. After that, Trailbreaker ran the ball up the middle to give us the first touchdown of the game.

That put us back on defense, though, and while Prowl tried to keep the twins off me, one or the other found a way to plough into me. While we waited through their huddle, Samuel clapped a hand on my shoulder and gave me a smile that appeared encouraging. "Sorry you're getting roughed up, but thanks for taking one for the team."

I was taken aback by his informal touch, but his words were puzzling. "Taking one what?"

His smile widened to a grin. "Google it." Then he took his place beside me on the defensive line.

Sunstreaker hit me hard, and I was struck by his shoulder in my gut. My holoform's ventilation – breathing – system malfunctioned as a result, and I lay in the sand frustrated and humiliated. I could have just rebooted my holoform, which would have reset every system, but I wasn't about to admit that kind of defeat.

Prowl called a time out, and it was Optimus who helped me to my feet this time. In a low voice, he said, "The humans call it having the wind knocked out of you. A prankster hid the code somewhere in the holoform library and Ratchet hasn't bothered to track it down and delete it. Prowl just about glitched when I was the one who first stumbled across it."

The humor in his voice and words was of some comfort to me, as was the fact that my holoform systems seemed to be righting themselves. "Any other prank-related holoform quirks I should be aware of?"

"They occur from time to time, but the ones that have eluded both Ratchet and Prowl are sneezing and flatulence. And every April Fools Day for the last six years, hiccups."

Prime transmitted several explanatory memory files for the unfamiliar human terms, so I took advantage of the humans' need to rehydrate by reviewing them. Clearly, the hiccups were a universal prank in keeping with the humans' culture, though it was impressive no one had figured out yet who the prankster was or where the code was hid. The flatulence was immature enough that it was likely the handiwork of Skids or Mudflap. Sneezing was probably a revenge code-prank by someone who accidentally triggered the flatulence code, especially since Mudflap was the first one documented to experience a sneezing fit. Those both seemed to be loosely based on natural human sensitivities and were apparently triggered by a range of foods. This "wind knocked out" phenomenon seemed to be of a different caliber. It required a physical trigger, apparently, and the code was hidden so expertly that Prowl couldn't find it, even when Prime was the one who couldn't breathe and that in turn triggered Prowl's manic Temple-guardian protection protocols.

I looked at Sideswipe and Susntreaker across the field. As far as pranks went, the violent and decidedly physical nature of the trigger and response were more their style, and they would be two of the few 'bots with the coding and pranking experience to successfully hide it even from Prowl. The Enforcer had no doubt deduced the same thing, and it was likely maddening to him, or as maddening as it could be to a mech as cold as him.

While I was at it, I also looked up "taking one for the team." The expression made sense enough once explained, but I was taken by surprise that friendship was universally the motive ascribed to someone who "took one for the team." I was not often accused of being friendly to the point of self-sacrifice.

Samuel Prime returned from the water cooler and nodded to Optimus. "Ready to switch things up a bit?"

"Yes," Optimus rumbled in a battle-ready voice. After Samuel's "take one for the team" comment, I flattered myself that my Prime's determination was for my sake.

Samuel traded places with him, so Optimus stood at my side on the defensive line. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged an uneasy glance, and my spark swelled with satisfaction. It was time for them to eat grit.

With my Prime at my side, I didn't take another hard hit for the duration of our time on defense. Sam and Optimus together did manage to knock both of the twins down at one time or another. It wasn't enough to provoke them, but it was enough for the Primes to make their point: they were the superior set of brothers. It made the bruises from being tackled later as a receiver far less damaging to my pride.

We won, and as we drifted back toward the house, I was surprised by how many people – humans and holoforms – clapped me on the back, shook my hand, or said, "Good game." Most Cybertronian games didn't involve teams this large, and I was curious about the dynamic it created. Of course, the congratulations weren't for me individually, but the whole game created a general sense of good will. I leaned closer to Spitfire. "Do sporting events always produce such amity among humans?"

She laughed heartily, and it was a moment before she could catch her breath enough to say, "No. Google 'sore loser.' And 'good sportsmanship,' while you're at it." The results of my search included video clips, and YouTube provided a steady stream of entertaining human antics. As in all things, we Autobots were civilized because we chose to be, and apparently that included the human Autobots as well.

...

Late Saturday morning, Bumblebee entered the barracks with Prowl in tow. Bumblebee commed us all. /Senator Ellis would like a demonstration before he returns to Washington, D.C./

"What kind of demonstration?" Trailbreaker asked.

"Of your various upgrades and fighting techniques," Prowl said.

/And of our ability to not go all Decepticon through the middle of their cities./ Bumblebee added.

"I call dibs on Mirage," Sunstreaker said, "as payment for you pulling me out of recharge by holding a meeting in the barracks."

Bumblebee looked at me to gauge my reaction, but I coolly said, "Don't worry, Sunstreaker. You won't get a scratch." If the human Prime required a bodyguard who could make a clean kill, I'd show him just how in-control I could be.

He lifted his servo in an unfamiliar and presumably human gesture before rolling over and going into recharge with a less-sensitive cycle setting.

That afternoon, we faced each other on the proving grounds for the entertainment of the human Prime. I watched Sunstreaker closely, and as soon as he began to move, I engaged my cloak and stepped aside. He lunged past me, and I flowed in behind him, following the current of air in his wake, circling closer.

Sand shifted underpede, giving away my position, and Sunstreaker lifted a gun. He fired a shot as I flitted two steps forward, leaving traces behind in this treacherous, squishy ground. I'd need to distribute my weight better if I wanted to evade him. My pedes transformed into something wider, the sound concealed by an added layer of code for my cloak. Sunstreaker's head was down, searching for more disturbed sand as he crept forward, and I smiled despite myself. Slipping around behind him, I stuck my pede in front of his, and he fell to his knees.

Unable to resist, I flicked him on the back of the helm as I crossed behind him. He rolled to his pedes again, slashing out at where I'd been. Pausing the sound-damping code for an astrosecond, I chuckled. Yes, it was petty to taunt him this way, but he'd chosen this duel, and frankly, he'd be easier to beat if he were angry.

Sensors alerted me as a traitorous puff of ocean breeze gave away my position again. Sunstreaker lunged before I could move with it, and I was forced to step cross-wind out of his way. Time to end this, since this squishy planet insisted on helping him. I grabbed him by the back of his armor and shoved him forward, following to pin his shoulders. He could have lifted my weight, but he froze when my cloak dropped and he could hear the hum of my energon dagger next to his audials. This wasn't in earnest, but he'd drawn his swords, and I wasn't about to find myself on the wrong end of them.

"Do you yield?" I asked, loud enough to ensure my Primes would hear.

He snarled in frustration before admitting, "Yes."

I rose to my pedes and, to help keep the peace (at least until I could get off the island), I pointed out, "Not a scratch, just like I promised." He was the only mech in the Autobot armies more vain than me.

He snorted at me, still hot from battle protocols, but he nodded toward his brother in invitation, and my spark warmed. Friendship was too much to ask, but on occasion, I won the respect of the twins.

…

I fell in love with Earth in Washington, D.C. The city was little more than a village compared to Polyhex in its glory, but still the feeling of homecoming was striking. Despite the presence of the humans and their equally organic greenery, D.C. had such a lively feel to it - wall-to-wall mechs (even if they were sparkless cars), towers and monuments, civilization. I could almost taste in the air the wealth and power of the place. Any major metropolis probably would have won my spark after I'd been essentially a vagabond for so long, but it was poetic that the first human city I encountered was D.C.

We made a very unconventional motorcade, not the least because Trailbreaker was forced to tow a tarp-covered Evac to the tower that would be our base here. Something about the humans having restricted airspace over the city and a bureaucracy that didn't function over holiday weekends.

Our tower, when we arrived, was one of the better ones. RaFly led the way down into what the external signage labeled a "parking garage." It was divided by a privacy fence, and the gate opened at her ping. RaFly took Mikeala and her younglings over to a human-sized elevator, but Bumblebee continued past another gate and on to a ramp that led down to another level - a spacious, open level that could even accommodate Optimus in his base mode. Bumblebee circled around to face us and Samuel stepped out of his cab. Then Bumblebee transformed, and the rest of us stretched up into our base modes, too.

"Welcome to the Autobot Command Tower," Samuel said. "This is the common room. On this level, we have two barracks rooms for you - one for day shift and one for night shift - and an arms room. The top four levels of this tower contain the actual command center. The north half of those four floors is one Cybertronian-sized level, while the south half contains one level each for the human command center, my civilian offices, my family's residential quarters, and human guest quarters. All the floors in between here and there are commercial space - offices for the human companies that are covertly distributing Cybertronian tech into the human economy."

Evac tilted his head. "Why are we doing that?"

"Sharing Cybertronian tech with humanity?" Samuel said. "Well, the short answer is so that we can build another solar harvester."

My doorwings twitched in surprise - we were building another solar harvester? Samuel was trying to destroy his own sun?

Bumblebee noticed my surprise and said via a quote, "It's a long story...I'll brief...you later."

An alert sounded, and Samuel glanced at his phone. Smirking a little as he looked up, he said, "Evac, Mirage, we'll give you the grand tour in a bit." Turning to Bumblebee, he said, "Go ahead and get everyone else settled in."

To the two of us, he said, "There's something else I'd like you to see first. Come with me?"

"Of course," I said deferentially.

Samuel stepped closer to an elevator that could comfortably hold a leader-class Autobot or two smaller ones like myself and Evac. Evac pinged the elevator to open its doors for us.

Samuel pushed a button for the roof. "There's a separate elevator system for us humans, but I figured I'd tag along on this one. The one from the public side of the parking garage goes up to the level just below the Autobot command center, but the one Mikaela took goes through our quarters all the way up to the roof." He chatted on about the tower for several minutes, but as we neared the top, he said, "Ours isn't the tallest building in the area, so you're restricted to your alt-modes up here. But it's a great view."

The elevator car we were in started transforming around us, the top peeling back to reveal the sky above. I transformed down into my alt to allow Evac the room he needed for his propellers. The lift was wide enough that we could actually both fit in our alts, but only because my cab was shorter than Evac's blades. The walls of the elevator car slid down around us, leaving us exposed on the rooftop.

"Evac, you should have an email from someone named Mohammed al-Sharif," Samuel said. "Consider him my human equivalent of Prowl, but with a more flexible sense of humor."

"I have received it," Evac acknowledged.

"There are several attachments including flight rules for the area and two transmitter codes, one for a Coast Guard ID and one for a private transportation vehicle permit. Feel free to use either one as appropriate when patrolling."

"You mean...?" The excitement in his voice was almost palpable.

"The sky is yours," Samuel confirmed, "and you're off duty until morning. Most of the time, the private permit will probably be more discrete, and you'll want to adjust your markings accordingly. But if you ever find yourself in a fight or rescue situation, we wanted to give you all the flexibility you needed."

"Thank you, Prime."

Samuel chuckled with pleasure. "Your welcome. Now go spin those blades."

He didn't have to be told twice. Despite Earth's overabundance of water, its atmosphere was pretty good for a rotary flyer like Evac, and he took off with gusto. As the beating of his blades faded in the distance, Samuel walked over to a human-sized table with chairs that had been set up in a corner of the roof. "Care to join me, Amir Raja?"

Not seeing much choice, I activated my holoform and crossed the roof toward him. He was rummaging in a cupboard – a small refrigerator, I realized as I drew closer.

"It's not exactly Polyhex," he said as he straightened, a bottle in hand. "But Optimus says it makes him feel a little more at home. Not as much as Tokyo, but still..." He twisted open the bottle, and my olfactory sensors identified it as some sort of fizzy, fruity-smelling soft drink. "Care for one?"

It was good manners to accept the offered beverage. "Thank you, Prime," I said as I took it from his outstretched hand.

He retrieved another one from the fridge and gestured toward the table. As we sat down, he said, "I have to confess, Mirage, Optimus and I have been talking about you."

I waited impatiently, unsure how to fidget in a form without doorwings.

He took a sip of the drink before leaning back in his chair. "I'll be honest with you. Even with all he's shown me, I don't fully understand what you've promised to each other." Giving me a smile I couldn't quite read, he said, "I'm not Cybertronian, I'm not a noble, and I'm American which means that I don't really understand what royalty means even among humans."

He was rejecting the oath, I realized, and fierce protectiveness swelled in my spark. Optimus already had a brother turn on him. That this frail, fleeting Prime would rebel against his clan leader and reject a vow made on behalf of the clan...

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that your promise to Optimus isn't enough for me because it doesn't mean anything to me. I know it's a huge deal for the two of you, but I want something more from you, something human."

"Then by all means," I said, unable to hide my disgust for this carbon-and-water ingrate, "enlighten me."

"I don't want you to be my oath-anything. I want us to be friends."

I blinked in reflexive surprise. "Friends," I repeated uncertainly.

His smile registered in my holoform library as a kind one. "Yes, friends. He said that you used to be a warrior of our household, but that now you've been upgraded to oath-kin, kind of like he's your godfather, but I can't quite wrap my brain around that one."

Wrap his brain…? What a disturbing mental image.

Looking out over the city surrounding us, he said, "It doesn't really make any sense in my world. Friendship does. It's entirely possible that you could die defending me, Mirage. That's what you've sworn to do if necessary, right?"

He looked to me for confirmation, and I nodded my helm...head.

"I don't want you making that kind of sacrifice out of a sense of obligation to Optimus. If you're going to be putting yourself in danger to protect me, I want it to be because you care about me. I want your amity, your friendship. But from what Optimus has shown me, friendship doesn't make much sense in the world you grew up in."

"That world fell into ruin millennia ago," I softly admitted.

"But it's still in your spark and processors," he answered. "Otherwise you wouldn't have used commerce-clan customs to solemnize your allegiance."

I immediately regretted my earlier doubt. Samuel Prime spoke with the wisdom I'd come to expect in those who were Prime-bound. Of course, at least some of that had to be Optimus' insight, but it was most likely they discussed it over their brother bond. I could only imagine what that would be like, seeing into the spark of such an alien being. On reflection, I couldn't imagine.

"Sorry about the conversation bomb," he said, seeming only marginally apologetic. "It's a Prime thing. But seriously, how do we meet in the middle? What will make sense to both of us? You don't have to figure it out right this second," he assured me, "but can you start thinking about it?"

"Of course, Prime," I said, still taken aback.

He smiled and lifted his drink in salute. "To friendship."

I recognized the tradition of a toast and touched my bottle to his. "To friendship."