I hovered protectively in front of my companion as Earth's atmosphere began to thicken around us, creating a wake which sheltered him slightly from the friction and heat of reentry. Kick-Off was a Temple guardian who had served under my command through much of the War and I was not about to lose him on this Primus-forsaken mudball of a world. Not after all I had done to find and save him.

His long-range communications had been disabled by the same Decepticons who had subjected him to Polyhex's gladiatorial circuit for the last hundred vorns, and my short-range communications array was among the systems damaged when I extracted him. I was able to decrypt most of the Prime's initial transmission regarding the fall of Megatron and the destruction of the Cube, but the second transmission was hopelessly garbled by Decepticon interference when we received it en route to the coordinates the Prime had sent. We were not quite flying blind as we approached Earth, but we were not far from it, either.

It was truly a shock to be met near the middle of the stratosphere by Optimus Prime, remarkably upgraded with Seeker mods. Kick-Off greeted him, I assumed, but I was unable to communicate with him until we were on the ground. He flew beside us in formation, and his mere presence was more comforting than I would ever admit, even though he was so dramatically altered. Optimus had always been a sure, steadying figure but perceiving him, with my advanced sensors, cut through the tropopause as he escorted us down filled me with both awe and a surprising sense of homecoming. I belonged at the side of my Prime.

I followed him without hesitation when he veered to our left, even when I realized he was guiding us toward a vast expanse of filthy, corrosive fluid. As I analyzed our course, I reasoned that the landing would be gentler on Kick-Off's much-abused armor, but the liquid would be more damaging long-term. Unless they had energon on standby, Kick-Off would be hopelessly rusted in a matter of breems. Surely Optimus would know that, which meant it was probable they had a supply of energon. If so, it had to be one of the last remaining caches.

We meandered slightly, slowing down and lowering the trajectory for impact before we scorched our way into the fluid near a small island. Optimus even followed us beneath the surface, overtaking Kick-Off and hauling him back toward dry land. He moved to intercept me, but I had already transformed and waved him off. Kick-Off was in far worse condition and I was more than capable of reaching solid ground on my own.

When I finally crested the waves, my spark warmed to see Ratchet there and already attending to my fellow Temple guardian. He was in the best medical servos Cybertron had left. With Jolt's help, he was loading Kick-Off onto a flat, wheeled transport trailer.

"Prowl," Optimus greeted as he strode forward through the liquid to meet me. His warm voice was unchanged despite his upgrade. "It is good to see you, old friend."

I bowed my head slightly and walked beside him toward the shore. "I am pleased to serve at your side again, Prime," I answered, more truthfully than he realized.

Three femme alt-forms approached me...with a single spark signature. When they transformed and then joined like a gestalt into the familiar form of Arcee, my doorwings twitched in amazement.

"We received your damage reports," she said in explanation as she began scanning me. "You've managed a few repairs, I see."

Glancing from the split Arcee to the half-Seeker Optimus, I answered, "Yes. It seems my status is not the only one to have changed."

Arcee snorted. "Observant as always. You're not going to extinguish between here and Ratchet's medbay. I'd rather repair you there."

I nodded in agreement and she dropped into her disconcerting three alt-forms.

"Do you have a local template for me to scan?" I asked Optimus, but he shook his head.

"The humans here will not be disturbed by your native form. If anything, they'll be excited to see it."

"Excited?" That did not bode well, not after vorn upon war-torn vorn of 'excitement.'

My Prime's engine made a thoughtful hum. "Until we have time for you to be formally briefed, process this..." Optimus transmitted a file I easily recognized as a language and measurement packet, followed by the rules and regulations for the local indigenous life-forms' military and a compilation of holoform protocols. Finally, he sent me a memory file flagged as his own personal logs - unfiltered. "I'll have the others give you their data, if you'd like."

Optimus knew me well - I would not feel comfortable on this world nor with the combat situation until I knew all there was to know about it. "I would appreciate it." We both transformed then and Arcee and I followed Optimus toward his base, Ratchet towing his patient behind me. The relief of being surrounded by my fellow Autobots - of being safe - was overwhelming.

...

Optimus was working at a console when I entered his office. I'd had time to analyze the data he'd given me while Arcee repaired me, and I needed to speak with him regarding one issue in particular. "May I have a moment of your time?"

He closed the program he'd been working on and gave me his undivided attention. I closed the door behind me. "Your memories provided evidence regarding several actionable offenses," I formally began.

He leaned back in his chair. "Discipline has been implemented where needed."

"Respectfully, sir, that is true with one significant exception: Bumblebee."

"If you're referring to his indiscretion with Arcee, I have already exonerated him, Prowl. It was military regulations he broke, not Temple law. As his commanding officer at the time, I have the authority to do so."

It still did not sit well with me. "Arcee is your kin by virtue of sibling privilege."

"And I invoke sibling privilege in forgiving them," he answered, to my surprise. "Elita would be doing all she could to encourage Arcee to court him. I can do no less."

Knowing his extinguished mate, he was right, of course, and it was impossible to argue with the dead. Still... "If word gets out, it will reflect badly on you as a commander and could negatively impact the Autobots' confidence in our own rule of law."

"Word will not get out," he assured me. "You and I are the only ones who know, and they are taking pains to not let their past relationship interfere with their duties now."

"Those regulations exist for a reason, Prime. The Elite Guard was created as its own military unit specifically to prevent a commander from having to give orders regarding his or her mate going into battle. Without such measures, the entire chain of command is compromised."

"Do you honestly believe there were abuses of power involved?"

Again, he was right. I had personally seen their friendship evolve and, like many others, wondered why Arcee did not court Bumblebee when they were obviously so close.

"Arcee and Bumblebee are no longer in the same chain of command. I have exonerated them for whatever happened on Cybertron and there is no legal impediment to them developing a relationship here."

He spoke with finality and I nodded my helm in acceptance. In many ways it was a relief to not have to punish one of the few Temple guardians I had left.

Weapon's fire lit up my sensors, and Optimus lurched to his feet, sprinting out of his office. I dropped into my alt-mode and followed him into the med bay where it was utter chaos. Ratchet was down, two mini-femmes working on him frantically, and the third component was clearly offline. Kick-Off was nowhere to be seen.

"Arcee, report," the Prime ordered.

"Kick-Off attacked Ratchet," the pink component answered. "We don't know why - we were doing a parts inventory. We just heard Ratchet yell 'fragger' and then Kick-Off went ballistic."

"Where is he now?"

"Unknown. His jetpack is functional, though."

Optimus left without a word, and I followed him, battle protocols still engaged. "What are our orders, sir?"

"What in the Pit is going on?" Iron Will demanded as we crossed into the main hangar. "Kick-Off came flying through here like Starscream was after him."

Optimus ordered, "Scramble NEST's air assets and give pursuit. Bring him back by force if necessary." He dropped into his alt-mode just long enough to hitch into his Blackbird armor and then he transformed again. "I will participate in retrieving him."

Iron Will nodded his assent and Optimus strode out into the open and blasted off.

That left me as the ranking Autobot officer in charge of this mess. Iron Will gave orders to the human contingent of NEST, so I returned to the med bay. Arcee's two remaining components were still working on Ratchet, and the medic was now surrounded by a handful of humans - his repair crew.

"He needs fuel before he drops into stasis lock," Arcee's pink component was saying. "Get me the medical-grade cocktail he has stashed in his office."

Two of the humans moved at once to a corner terminal, and pink-Arcee spared me a fleeting glance. "He'll survive, sir, but he won't be on his feet again for a while. Kick-Off was aiming for his processors. We've stabilized him, but it will take us some time to rebuild the neuro-wiring in his neck and helm."

"Are his processor core and memory intact?"

"We don't know, sir," she tersely answered, and I left her to her work, my doorwings drooping at the prospect of the Prime's medic being rendered useless. Instead of dwelling on that disturbing thought, I set my battle computer on the task of analyzing why Kick-Off went rogue.

I didn't have an office of my own yet to retreat to, so I went instead to the barracks. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were there, cleaning and sharpening their blades, but I pointedly ignored them. To leave would be a show of weakness I knew better than to make with these two, especially now when they were both clearly spoiling for action even though they were supposed to be in the middle of their recharge cycle.

Instead, I settled onto a bare, newly-installed berth that was most likely intended for me and offlined my optics, turning my attention inward. The fact that Ratchet swore at Kick-Off was not particularly noteworthy; he was famously foul-mouthed. What was noteworthy was that Kick-Off attacked Ratchet immediately afterward. Perhaps even more interesting was that he was dangerously close to being successful at assassinating him. During his service to the Temple guardians as well as during the course of the war, Kick-Off had not shown any unusual aptitude for hand-to-hand combat. It was possible that he'd caught Ratchet off-guard, though that seemed highly unlikely considering Prime was known to come online in battle mode after a repair. More likely was that he now possessed greater skill in combat than I was aware, perhaps acquired during his captivity. That addressed the "how" in this situation but it left the "why" unanswered, so I turned the facts over in my mind again.

He'd aimed for Ratchet's processors, Arcee was quite clear on that point. Why the processors, though? He possessed sufficient skill to disable Ratchet too quickly for Arcee to intervene, but he didn't take the clean kill by going for the spark. Instead, he took the time to deliberately destroy Ratchet's neural processor, or at least attempt to. Why? I ran the calculations and came up with a 87% probability that Ratchet had found something during his repair and exam that Kick-Off didn't want him to know, a secret he was willing to kill to protect.

I onlined my optics and sat up.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe eyed me warily, but they weren't the mechs I needed now. Wordlessly, I left the barracks and returned to the med bay.

"I need to know if his memory banks are intact."

"We don't know yet, sir," Arcee snapped.

"Is he stable enough for a memory scan?"

She finally looked up at me with both her components. "You're joking, right? He's not dead yet. That kind of personal violation without consent…"

"Kick-Off tried to kill him for a secret Ratchet discovered. Prime is in pursuit attempting to bring him back here and I need to know what we're dealing with. So I ask you again, Arcee, would Ratchet endure any lasting harm from a memory scan?"

She frowned, clearly unhappy, before saying, "Medically, no, other than the fact that if we're the ones to do it it'll delay his repair by that much longer."

"Jolt has the hacking experience necessary to accomplish the task."

"Fine, but we object on his behalf by virtue of sibling privilege."

"Noted." I sent an urgent ping to Jolt and ordered him to the med bay.

He strode in a moment later. "Reporting as ordered," he said, though his gaze was drawn to Ratchet's inert form.

"I want you to do a memory scan…"

"He's still alive," Jolt protested.

My doorwings twitched irritably. "I am aware. However, the situation is urgent. Initiate the scan." The need for data made my spark compress. For once, I desperately hoped that my battle computer was wrong.

He shifted his weight in a gesture the human integration database flagged as "uneasy," a habit from his extensive holoform use, no doubt. "Wish Jazz was here," he muttered, and pain flashed through my spark.

"I do, too." For a myriad of reasons. "Begin the procedure."

Jolt nodded once and knelt beside Ratchet. "What report format shall I use, sir?" he bitterly asked. "Prisoner of war? Defector? Criminal?"

Ignoring his barb, I said, "Forward any raw data you are able to recover. I shall prepare whatever report is necessary."

Clearly as unhappy as Arcee, he plugged in to a data port in Ratchet's neck and began scanning whatever he could access.

He was still sifting through Ratchet's damaged memory files when Optimus and the NEST jets returned empty handed.

My Prime took in Ratchet's injured form and then his gaze fell on me. He nodded toward his office and I followed him. As soon as the door closed behind us, giving us some privacy, he said, "I assume there was a pressing need for such drastic measures."

"We have one of two possible scenarios. The first, and far more comforting, is that Kick-Off is injured neurologically somehow and does not recognize friend from foe. The second, and far more likely, is that he has his full faculties and recognized Ratchet for what he is - his foe."

Optimus turned his helm sharply to look at me. "You accuse Kick-Off of defecting."

"I need more data before I can make such an accusation, Prime. Hence the memory scan."

"His actions today are all the more concerning. We were in pursuit, close enough to intercept him, and he punched a hole in the side of a cargo ship before disappearing under the water. I had to let him go in order to save the humans aboard before it sank."

He looked eastward for a long, silent moment before shaking his helm. "With a potential defector on the loose, I do not wish for Sam to be so exposed. Until we've caught Kick-Off, I am recalling him and Bumblebee."

"Understood," I answered, though I didn't fully. I'd seen in Optimus' memory files much of his interaction with the boy but it still baffled me that a human could be a Prime. A part of me was eager to observe with my own sensors and understand for myself.

Within two hours, Bumblebee, the human Prime, and his mate were en route to Diego Garcia. They were less than an hour away when I finally got a message from Jolt - the raw data he'd been able to tease out of Ratchet's damaged processors. It was damaged enough to be low resolution, but the pieces I needed were there.

While I had been meeting with Optimus in his office, Ratchet had completed his repairs on Kick-Off. However, the medic left his patient in a low-level medical stasis so he could "pick for neural-net lice" in Kick-Off's processors. This necessitated overriding his firewalls. He then discovered some files Kick-Off had done his best to bury, but that secrecy only piqued Ratchet's curiosity. The medic had accessed the files and discovered that Kick-Off had sided with Megatron from before the start of the War, had given the Decepticon leader access to the All Spark so it could be corrupted. Kick-Off had been complicit from the beginning. One of my own mechs.

But his treachery hadn't stopped there. He'd fed the location of the All Spark to the Decepticons throughout the war. We'd only been able to keep one step ahead of them because he had to be so careful about sending out a transmission.

After the All Spark was out of his reach, the Decepticons captured him, informed his fellow Autobot captives about his treachery, and then tossed him into the gladiatorial ring with them one at a time to watch the fun as they tried to kill Kick-Off. One by one, he'd killed all his fellow prisoners - including three other Temple guardians - until I had come to his rescue.

Fury roared in my spark, and I offlined my optics. This was the secret Ratchet had found, had almost paid for with his life.

I added a note about this being a Temple guardian matter and forwarded the raw data to my Prime. He would understand. Temple law superseded military law, and for Kick-Off's transgressions, death was the price.