Title: Nemesis Calling (1/?)

Author: dreamerchaos
Sequel to 'All Hail Starscream'

Fandom: 'Revenge of the Fallen'.
Rating: Slash. R. Dubious consent and gore thrown into several parts. Each chapter will have respective warnings.
Pairing: StarscreamxPerceptor.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.
Characters: Perceptor. Starscream. Various characters from the movie as well.

Summary: The time is finally at hand…return to Earth, destroy the descendant of the Primes, and harvest the Earth. Perceptor must decide whether to betray his master and warn the Autobots, and thus endanger the risk of suffering Starscream's wrath.

The blue computer screens relay the flood of data that the satellites stream from outer space, tracking the unidentified flying object careening towards the United States. Voices shouting over the thrum of downloading computer terminals, crisp uniformed soldiers in their seats curtly sending orders through the speaker phones of the comm. systems.

"Monitor its path!" The commander orders the calm, polished faces of the technicians and computer specialists. "Get the NEST team assembled and ready to deploy!"

From outside the base of command, one of Lennox's men listens to the sequence of codes being shouted over the link by the security team. Their worst fears confirmed when the radio specialist blanches, neatly yanking the head piece loose when he tosses the microphone and ear pieces onto the dashboard, spinning around to address his superior officer.

"It's confirmed! Bogey! Coming in hot!"

Major Lennox's team scrambles, locking and loading their weapons as they jump into the military humvees.

"Talk to me, Marco." Lennox hops into the black NEST Hummer and then pops out of the port hatch in the roof, while another soldier jumps into the back of the vehicle modified cab in order to man the small saber gun.

A scout repeats the coordinates garbled through his handheld radio, "Non-organic life form. Just broke through the stratosphere. The pod will land twenty miles due east from these coordinates." He lays out the latitude and longitude.

"All right, you heard the man!" Lennox smacks the flat of his gloved hand on the rooftop of the military Hummer, Epps yanking out and spreading the map of the area surrounding the land site, cursing at the tangle of forest roads and hilltops that the team will have to traverse to reach the site. "The Autobots are converging and are within a ten mile range of the bogey. It's a bumpy ride, ladies, so keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. We need to move our asses and follow them!"

"Slagging Decepticons," Ironhide growls, pouring on the gas, flattening the pedal to keep up with Optimus Prime, "They're sending more soldiers, no matter how many we keep finding and deactivating throughout this planet already."

"Let us hope that this time we can intervene before this one disappears off the radar as well." The Prime speaks calmly, the breaker against the tide of frustration and fury, resolutely ignoring his weapon specialist's subsonic growl, the black mech snarling and itching for a fight.

"Optimus," Arcee smoothly glides around the two larger mechs, her purple and blue sisters flanking her, "The pod has landed. Just over that hill." Her holographic driver gestures past the rolling green hilltop that the team steadily approachs.

"Use extreme caution, my friends." Optimus Prime warns, "We do not know the designation nor weaponry systems of this foe, and I do not want any of us having to scrape up any comrades because of the mistake of underestimating our opponent."

"SIR!" The Autobots salute their patron with the ringing of their loud vocal tribute.

The ripping heat shredding away the metal flanks of his escape pod drags a sharp cry from Perceptor, the lean cobalt and blue frame curling tighter within the metal womb of the pod's inner casings.

Breaking through the planet's atmosphere is taking its toll on the escape pod. In the back of his processor, he notes the screaming red data windows and warnings of imminent impact with one of the planet's large land masses.

When the pod hits the crest of a mountain, the impact sends it spiraling out of control, bouncing across a much smaller hilltop, and then tearing a deep groove down the the face of the hill, organic foliage crushed and tangling with the compact pod, scorching metal searing the green flora black.

His equilibrium circuits are off kilter as the pod finally rolls to a slow stop, falling into a small natural bowl nestled amongst the looming trees. Small flickering fires trailing the pod's path through the forest, metal pinging with the heat and pressure as the pod's casing begins to finally cool down.

As fast as his rattled equilibrium will allow, Perceptor throws his shoulder against the melted and bent emergency hatch, popping the frame open, and the microscope scrabbles free from inside the escape pod, tumbling head over pedes and collapsing onto the uneven ground. Wheezing from the oppressive heat still pouring from the pod, steam billowing around him, Perceptor shakily rises onto his pedes, warily scrutinizing the strange organic foliage around him, and the few curious fauna that peek out from their shelters, eyeing the tall metal stranger.

Nervous by the attention, even if they were such small, inconsequential creatures, Perceptor still can't shake the feeling that he needs to hide and take cover elsewhere. Immediately.

The ground is…strange to him. A complex mixture of rough and soft, patches of moss causing his pedes to sink down as if stumbling into a small pool of quicksand. He shakes his pede, trying to shake off the persistent foliage.

"Curious." He wonders, circling widely around the tall trees, the scientist never having seen such an organic life form, and he isn't certain whether it is safe to touch and use his sensitive, dexterous hands to explore the surface and structure of the towering lush green giants.

Edging towards the other side of the patch of forest, he pauses. Shaken by a strange sensation stirring up his back strut, warning him that he is no longer alone.

"Come on, Decepticon punk!" Perceptor yelps and narrowly dodges two shorter mechs who barrel out of the cover of the trees, branches exploding around them, their warrior cry sending the few fauna scattering for their lives. One of the strange mechs is a vibrant green and the other a pumpkin shade, the twins cursing and spilling across the ground when they miss their opponent.

"Jerk!" Skids sharply smacks his brother across the back of his helm, "You made me miss!"

"Slagger, it was yer fault!" Mudflap pounces, the twins tussling and now ignoring the 'Decepticon' they had tried to ambush.

Arcee shoots out from the trees, her sisters following and circling the stranger. Noting in unsurprised dissatisfaction that the twins have blown their cover when ordered to hold their ground and monitor the newcomer. Arcee takes over for them before the twins risk finding themselves facing a blaster or a blade, the red and cobalt mech appearing to possess no weapons, perhaps excluding the scope on his shoulder, but she is not willing to risk their lives on a guess.

"Don't move!" The femme warns, aiming her blaster at the taller, slim mech.

Perceptor hastily raises his hands in surrender, shrinking when his optics stare down the silver barrel of the weapon, "I-I am unarmed!" He cringes away, especially when the other two femmes release their sheathed blades mounted into the overlapped plating of their wrists.

Arcee's gaze narrows. Trying to make head or tails of the stranger, the mech sheepishly bowing in submission; his hands raised above his helm, and long, well jointed legs nervously shuffling, black helm bobbing in confusion, his blue gaze flickering from the arguing twins and the three femmes circling him. "…Where is your insignia?" She demands.

"My…insignia?" Perceptor's optics blink, helm tilting, frowning at the question, and then realizing what she is referring to, he responds with an expression of distaste, "I do not ally myself with anyone. I was…I am a Neutral."

"There ain't no Neutrals, fool!" Skids snaps, giving his brother a swift, final smack against the back of his helm for good measure, Mudflap cursing vibrantly.

Perceptor glares at the crass assumption and the conclusion that the twins have drawn, calling him a liar, "We hid our presence well while we were on Cybertron. My friends and I were few in number, but we managed to hide and scavenge what we could. Until…" He halts, chin dropping, as he whispers, "That is…before Starscream found me, and then my friends were taken prisoner."

"Starscream?" Arcee parrots, glaring in distrust and a healthy measure of disbelief, "You survived an encounter with him?"

Perceptor sighs, "If you call 'surviving' as being outfitted and placed under his care as his favored pet." His hand raises to brush his throat, fingertips tapping the gleaming surface of a nearly invisible collar, distinguished only by the brief flash of light against the mercury metal and elegant calligraphy when Perceptor moves his head so, dark plating stretching just enough for the glitter of light to peak through.

Before Arcee can further interrogate the stranger, the trees creak and groan, Ironhide clearing through the thick branches, his path as elegant as an enraged bull through a china shop, tearing through the heavy fringe of kindling and overgrown bushes, swinging his cannon in the direction of the Neutral. "A Decepticon is still a Decepticon, no matter who his master is!" The weapon specialist charges up his weapon.

"No!" Arcee shouts, her sister twins jerking in response, waving their hands in panic to try and halt the darker painted Autobot, "WAIT!"

Perceptor drops to his knees and ducks while his hands fly up to cover a makeshift shield over his helm, crying out in terror at the sight of the much larger weapon, the upgraded cannon aiming directly at him.

Optimus Prime barrels forward perpendicular from the older warrior's position, the larger red and blue bedecked flamed mech barely dodging the cannon fire as he scoops up the frozen, terrified Neutral, ducking and rolling with a hail of scorched bark and tumbling, the intense blast enough to topple many of the surrounding undergrowth, the earthquake ripple from the new large scorched hole in the Earth and the shattered, collapsing trees crash down around them. The Prime shielding the Neutral with his much larger frame until the rain of debris stops, and there is no longer a risk of the mech being crushed by the massive fallen trees.

"Lower your weapons, you fool!" Ratchet snaps Ironhide's wrist aside, glaring at the shocked mech, "You'll hit Prime and the Neutral!"

"He's lying! He said he was with Starscream!"

"He said he was Starscream's pet." Sideswipe corrects, and Jolt nods in silent agreement, the blue mech stepping beside the leaner silver warrior, echoing the silver mech's affirmative by adding his input, "Big difference," Jolt agrees.

"Not if he was willing." Ironhide growls in counter.

Ratchet looks ready to throttle the weapons specialist, the medic scowling, "Keep your hands off the mech and your cannons offline or I'll permanently offline you myself, you over clocked gung-ho idiot!"

Optimus Prime shifts, carefully raising his great frame from above the frightened mech, keeping his weight from crushing the much smaller microscope, "Are you all right?" He whispers, Perceptor's wide, scared blue optics welded to his.

The Neutral can not make his vocoder work properly, static and worried clicks spilling forth. Instead, to answer the Prime's inquiry he brokenly bobs his head, hands shivering upon his helm, still tucked in a duck and cover position.

"Optimus," Jolt steps forward, voice lowered to decrease the chance of spooking the frightened mech, "The humans will be here soon."

"We can't just hand him over to them if he is indeed a Neutral." Arcee argues, familiar with the chain of operations and procedures that would take place if Lennox's team acquired a Cybertronian bearing no alliance, Perceptor automatically labeled as a threat ― his neutrality ostracizing him from his Cybertronian peers, neither an enemy, but most certainly not an ally ― and the humans will not comprehend such an anomaly amongst the faction soldiers who bore their allegiances with duty and pride, "Optimus, Sir, you yourself decreed that Neutrals were to be protected and shielded from the War. Regardless of your decree, the humans will still insist on locking him away. There is also the risk of scientists wanting to examine him, should he bear no allegiance. Without a faction to stand for him, he has no rights or voice to request amnesty, nor deny his imprisonment and the experiments by the humans."

"…I do not wish to lie to Lennox, nor the President of the United States." Optimus Prime contemplates the benefits and the risks of revealing the Neutral to the military. As much as he may wish to trust Lennox and his men, Optimus is not blind to some of Major Lennox and the President; their intents unsavory at best, and not just in the scope that they wished to study the Autobots' weapons technology, no matter how fiercely Optimus refused to buckle to their insistence, regardless how many times they beg or wheedle.

Optimus is watching as Perceptor absorbs the conversation around him. The Neutral's face growing more panicked, trembling as his fate is casually being tossed amongst the Autobot warriors and officers. Witnessing such fear in regards to their behavior, and he immediately feels ashamed, since he and the Autobots were meant to instill respect, to protect and serve, not to terrorize and enslave their brothers and sisters.

Optimus gathers the smaller Neutral within his arms, Perceptor's wide, awed optics blinking in incomprehension as a Prime, the Prime, debases the glory of his title, and subjects himself to carrying the petrified young mech, Optimus speaking his intent to his soldiers with his attention centered on coaxing the microscope to trust him, "However, we will place Perceptor into the care of one of our human allies, until we know the extent of his relationship with Starscream and the other Decepticons."

"What will we tell Lennox?" Ratchet asks, watching as Optimus Prime stands, balancing the stunned Neutral in his arms, the mech still too petrified too move, clinging to the Prime's frame, gaze twitching across the Autobots, ducking his helm against Optimus' shoulder when he locked gazes with the weapons specialist.

"Ironhide's rambunctiousness may work in our favor." The Prime's voice is grim, "The damage from his cannons will disguise any tracks from the pod. We will simply inform Lennox that we found no Decepticon anywhere near the escape pod."

The other Autobots are not completely comfortable with the truth intermixed with the lie, but they still agree that the Neutral should remain outside the government's eye for as long as possible.

"I hope this is not an inconvenience, Maggie."

"It's all right." She assures, leaning out of her window, quietly whispering to the semi truck parked in her large driveway. "My husband is away for the month in DC. Thanks to this private street and all the acres surrounding the house, Perceptor should be safe."

Optimus Prime settles more due to relief, tires hushing a soft sigh, "The situation is of great concern. Our first meeting…did not turn out well."

"I guessed that." Maggie could hear Perceptor moving restlessly inside the small barn not too far from the house, "He seems a bit shy."

Optimus nods, "He is integrating well, though. Thank you again for providing him with your laptop so that he may peruse the internet for information on this planet."

Maggie chuckled, "I was a bit startled when he started spouting out Japanese and then Arabic, but he seems to be settling down and learning American."

"Once I am certain that it is safe, Ratchet, Ironhide, and I will designate a time period to rendezvous here. We will need to ask Perceptor several questions."

"I'll keep him safe." She grinned, sensing the perplexed look that the Prime directed towards her, the mech confused how one small organic could defend the Neutral, "Trust me, Optimus. No one will know that he is here."

High above, lurking along the hemisphere of the planet, latched onto the unaware satellite, coiling his frame and tightening embedded tentacles deep throughout its many schematics while he invades its targeting and surveillance systems, Soundwave downloads the streamed images. Ruby optics narrowing, intent upon the digitized image of the Prime leader sitting in the driveway of a large human residence.

Another window pops up across his optical glass. Soundwave purrs, pleased by the data indicated that there is the tell-tale wisp of Cybertronian radiation. A Cybertronian signature.

Not originating from the Prime. No. This one is new to him; a stranger to this planet, so far away from Cybertron. A Neutral, from what his scanners can tell.

"Decepticons: Unidentified Cybertronian located. Threat: Minimal. Observation only until symbiotes have completed current mission." The mostimmediate of tasks was currently underway. Ravage, the Doctor, and the tiny slew of minobots were stationed to acquire the Allspark shard hidden near the Indian Ocean.

Once they have acquired their prize, and Lord Megatron arose again to stand against the Autobots, Soundwave wanted to find out more about this stranger.

The human software is embarrassingly slow, compared to Cybertronian.

However, Perceptor is patient and diligent, slowly mapping his way through the beginning of his foray into the internet. The vast web service titillating his processor with the amount of new data he has never explored. The microscope hunched over the small, glowing laptop resting upon the empty crate, meticulously punching each individual key, a moue of distaste marking whenever his fingertips mistaken and hit an incorrect symbol, and Perceptor must waste precious seconds to correct the typo, when he should be continuing his exploration through the web page tabs.

Perceptor accepts that he is becoming obsessed. After so many vorns hiding in the dark catacombs of bunkers and tunnels, the libraries and laboratories sealed and welded shut to intruders, he has been starved of knowledge and exploration. Like an addict tasting the droplets of alcohol after having gone years sober, he dives headlong into his foray, discarding conversation with the young human and needed recharge, focusing his energy on learning as much as he can about the planet he has had to good fortune of crash landing.

It could certainly be worse. Landing on Mars, or Venus, while interesting to explore, would not have been nearly as invigorating or inspiring to study. The humans so complex and unique, and their behaviors and hobbies equally intriguing. Perceptor is quite amazed that Cybertronian scientists never ventured to study this planet and its inhabitants, with all of its variety and qualities.

A small, stray feline mewls in curiosity at the strange metal creature, poking its white and orange head out of a pile of straw, the dry hay stacks creating a bed upon the top level of the barn. The feline gracefully crisscrosses its way down the rafter poles, hopping down onto a short stall wall, and then jumping expertly onto all four paws onto the floor. Venturing close to the mech, it purred, curling around his ankles, twining and rubbing its sable fur against the smooth warm metal.

Perceptor pauses, captured by the rumbling purr originating from such a small creature. Reaching forward, Perceptor stretches his hand outward in entreaty, curling his fingers to touch his palm, clicking softly to try and coax the lean creature forward.

The feline mewls again, butting her head against his fingertips. Perceptor smiles, pleased by the confidence and trust the creature exhibits.

Perhaps a bit too much confidence. He gasps when the feline easily scales up his leg, casually tracking up his arms and onto his shoulder, the cat indulgently curling into the crook of his collar strut, thin rib cage rising and falling as it curls up tight to recharge.

Astonished by such a brazen acquirement of his frame as its newest resting post, Perceptor blinks in sheer amazement. Still…he doesn't possess the Spark to forcefully remove the orange and white feline.

Now mindful of the companion nestled comfortably against him, Perceptor is more careful not to lean too far over and toss the feline off his shoulder.

Optic lens narrowing, focusing on the screen of the compact laptop, he continues to read the minute text. Excitedly pulling up the web links, exploring the Youtube database and videos, while downloading the array of human music, while at the same time reading the data files of news reports that filter through the internet system.

He is quietly impressed by the content that the humans have amassed. For such tiny creatures, they are capable of so much more than meets the eye.

From the huge wood doorway, Maggie tugs the stubborn old doors apart, squeezing into the old barn. "Hey there," She greets her guest, smiling knowingly at the swish of the feline's tail just visible from upon the mech's shoulder, "Made a friend already? She's a prissy little thing. Only lets me pet here when she deigns so, especially after I lay out a plate of tuna for her majesty."

The feline yawns, glancing down upon the human from her high, perched throne.

Maggie shakes her head at the fickleness of the feline species. Turning back to Perceptor, she presents her gift to the nearly sixteen foot tall mech. "Optimus asked me to give you this." Groaning softly at the strain of lifting the heavy, filled red container, she offers the gas tank to the microscope, "He says that he can't transport energon outside the base, but this should suffice for the while," Sloshing the fuel within the red container tantalizingly, the long yellow nozzle rattling and bobbing like the head of a brightly painted serpent.

"…Thank you." Perceptor graciously lays his hands out in acceptance of the gift, bending forward to balance the red plastic tank. Mulishly yowling, the feline disdainfully leaps off his shoulder, jostled from her throne; disappointed to lose her newly acquired resting spot.

Perceptor is befuddled by how to liberate the fuel from the vessel, holding and tilting the container within his hands, until he discovers that with precise pressure and careful turning, he can twist the cap and nozzle free. After placing the nozzle aside, he moves forward to partake in the fuel. Lifting the small red mouth to his lips, the mech cautiously tilts the canister, slowly pouring the contents of the liquid into his oral cavity. The liquid a wonderful bane after so long traveling through space in his escape pod, the jettisoned pod only carrying the minimal dregs of energon to keep its occupant online until the escape vehicle should land on a hospitable planet.

"It must have been hard on you…traveling alone and for so long." Maggie watches Perceptor nearly drown in quiet rapture, draining the gas canister until the last fleeting droplets leave it dry. Perceptor mournfully tilting the empty canister. Attention robbed now that he has finished partaking in sustenance, his optics unwillingly flickers towards her. Uncomfortable with the abrupt change in subject, Perceptor shuffles in place, unsettled, but he manages a sheepish nod to answer her assessment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Maggie whispers, resting her hands on the mech's knee, offering silent support as she leans against the cobalt and red frame. Perceptor tilts his helm at her inquiry, "I know that it's a bit overwhelming, and we haven't known each other for that long, but it doesn't seem to hurt if someone is willing to listen." She reasons, hating how Perceptor shrinks within himself, falling dead silent, and his processor rerunning the memory files of the cold, dark miles of space he has traversed alone. Confused and analyzing the doubts and fears, the terror of having made a critical error with his plan to try and reach the Autobots on a far, foreign solar system and warn them of the danger that threatens an entire army, and an entire organic species.

"……It is a very long story." He cautions. Gently lowering the empty fuel canister to the dusty ground of the barn floor, Perceptor sits back, leaning against one of the thick support beams. Maggie clambering onto his knee, confidently curling her jeaned legs underneath her while she avidly looks up at the serene black face, her patient narrator beginning his epic story for the first pair of audios outside of Starscream's small interpersonal circle who were intimately familiar with Perceptor and his venture on Cybertron leading to his capture and ownership by the Decepticon Seeker, "Several of your Earth years ago, a friend and I ventured into the city known as Trypticon…"

Optimus Prime holds many personal skills. One of those many, his persuasive capabilities, and with this skill he employed many times on Cybertron during its Golden Age when the Prime was in conference with the Council or neighboring planetary dignitaries. Negotiating peace and obedience to listen and acknowledge their agreements and differences, while Prime kept his brother, the Lord High Protector, in good patience. Megatron hardly monopolizing his patience to deal with the irritating dignitaries, leaving the mediation to his brother, while scowling over the Prime's shoulder should one dignitary decide to be brave and obstinately question Prime's objective.

Optimus now harnesses his ability for negotiation and persuasion to convince Major Lennox that the Prime and a few of his soldiers needed some downtime away from base, to allow the three the opportunity to explore to continent a bit further at their own leisure. Major Lennox isn't exactly comfortable that the Autobot officers will be away from base, but he has never had reason to mistrust the Prime, so he grants Optimus and his companions their leave.

Almost a week after Optimus delivered her guest to her doorstep, Maggie steps outside her house to meet the Autobots as they rolled onto her driveway, intercepting the three mechs as they transformed into bipedal mode, well hidden far away from the main street, the private estate lined and added with extra security and shielding by the gigantic lush trees and fat, overgrown bushes.

Perceptor gave his permission ― when Maggie asked if he would care if she spoke to the Autobots first, acting in his stead until it was absolutely necessary for him to speak personally with the Prime ― the human trusted to update the Autobots on the information that the mech had provided her. The three listened throughout Maggie's rendition of her talk with Perceptor during the previous night, and the information that the Neutral had revealed.

"He spoke the truth, then." The medic does not deign to point out Ironhide's folly in judging the stranger before actually bothering to get to know him. Ratchet sighs in regret, feeling remorse that Perceptor and so many others still suffered on Cybertron, while the Autobots raged war on a distant planet, unable to provide shelter or assistance while the Decepticons reigned and ruled with an iron fist, choking the civilians and Neutrals who had had the misfortune of not being able to escape before the few remaining impartial cities were captured, and forced to bare the symbol of Decepticon occupation, "Such a pity that he had to suffer losing his friends to the auction block."

"Don't get too complacent." Ironhide warns, not balking beneath the firm glare the medic throws at him, "I'm trying to be the logical voice here! We have to be absolutely sure that we can trust him. I don't feel comfortable introducing him to Lennox's team should he show his true colors, and his credibility fails to meet our requirements."

"So what's next? You're going to interrogate him?" Maggie demands, horrified by the implication, "After everything he's been through?"

Optimus Prime bowed onto one knee, beseeching the agitated femme, "Your avid defense for him is a great comfort, Maggie. Your faith in him is an encouragement to trust what he has said. But still, regardless of any doubt that exists, we must speak with him. He may have the answers that we desperately need. Time is far too precious now, with the Allspark shard stolen, and rumors of Megatron online."

"There are a few missing pieces that need to be answered." Ratchet agrees, joining his leader, "My first question would be: how did he manage to flee from Starscream? The second question: why would he come to Earth, of all places, if he could have hidden anywhere on Cybertron, let alone hide within the vast reaches of the galaxy?"

Maggie sighs, her shoulders drooping, "…Fine. But…Just try not to scare him too much, okay? He's been through enough already."

"That, my friend, I can promise." Optimus bowed his helm, "None of us will lay a hand on him. Our intention is not to harm, but to learn more from our guest and hopefully assist Perceptor in his efforts to remain free from Starscream's possession."

The barn is far too small to house the three Autobots and the single Neutral. With Maggie's directions to a secluded section of forest nestled on her property, the four mechs carefully tread their way through the trees, out of sight of any man or beast.

"Now, Perceptor," Standing on the crest of the clearing, the rolling forest floor overgrown with foliage and dead, ancient hollowed logs, Optimus Prime kneels down once more, to better alleviate Perceptor's timid shyness, the Neutral a bit overwhelmed by the Prime's looming presence, "I have several questions for you."

Clasping his hands together, Perceptor edges a glance at the medic and the weapons specialist shadowing him. Shrinking away from the darker mech, Perceptor locks his gaze with the majestic Prime's, "I will try my best to answer all of your questions." His subdued words assure the red and blue leader of his compliance.

"How did you manage to escape from Cybertron? And Starscream?"

"…To answer the first question, escaping Cybertron, that was not hard at all. Starscream loaded a few soldiers, and me, onto one of his star cruisers. He planned to land the ship and dock with the Nemesis on an unnamed planet in the nearby solar system. I wasn't given any choice in the matter. Starscream did not trust leaving me alone with his tenants on Cybertron."

"He didn't trust that you wouldn't try and escape?" Ratchet asks.

Perceptor lowers his helm, hand kneading the rim of his throat, "Escape from Starscream is near impossible, even without this damn collar he had placed upon me." Ratchet and the others note the barest gleam of polished silver and the stenciled designation upon the smooth, thin collar wrapped around the smaller mech's dark throat, "My alternate mode has no wings, nor wheels. I have little hope of outpacing him. Starscream concerned himself more with the risk that his soldiers would try and use and manipulate me to dredge up a higher level of status in 'Lord' Starscream's optics."

Ironhide crosses his thick arms, fingers drumming upon the plating hiding his retracted, hidden cannons, a frown marring his dermal plating, asking aloud, "Why would Starscream abandon such a prestigious position among the other Decepticons on Cybertron, in order to move his army elsewhere?"

"Because the Fallen summoned him." Perceptor replies.

"The Fallen?" Optimus echoes, sharing a look with the other Autobots, Perceptor turning his helm left and right, confused by the knowing expression, "Familiar words we heard not too long ago. A very ominous coincidence, wouldn't you think?" He looks to Ratchet and Ironhide, who nod their helms in agreement.

"I never laid my optics on this Fallen." Perceptor continues, "But during the last orn, Starscream has hosted private video conferences with him. Not too long afterward a final transmission from the Fallen, he ordered a small fleet of soldiers to mobilize and prepare for something known as the Harvest."

Optimus Prime's gears groan as he shifts, standing up tall, raising his helm to look up towards the heavens in the direction of Cybertron, digesting the newest information, "So many more questions have arisen." He ponders with a low whisper of regret and strut-deep tiredness, "Starscream's intentions are far from pure. That I am certain of. And this Harvest that Perceptor speaks of makes me worry a great deal more about the Decepticon's intents."

"He…Whenever I managed to overhear Starscream…" Perceptor swallows his nervousness, remembering the worry about being caught in the act of listening in, hiding outside the closed room, catching more of the tone of the conversation than the actual words, but Perceptor managed to connect the stray words and incomplete sentence to come up with a conclusion about the topic of discussion, "T-The Fallen and Starscream were discussing the harvesting of energon."

"One thing that we know already about the Decepticons' intents: Earth is their target. That much is clear." Ironhide ponders, "But how will they gather the energon, especially enough for the Decepticons still on Cybertron, let alone enough to revive Cybertron?"

"They're trying to revive Cybertron without the Allspark." Ratchet hisses in alarm, optics widening, "Do you have any idea how much energon they would need in order to succeed?"

"It doesn't make sense to me, either." Perceptor admits, forefingers tapping together while he bites his bottom lip in thought, "Starscream was a scientist as well as an aerial warrior before the war. While I was his…" Perceptor halts, noticing how uncomfortable the three Autobots are at the mention of his status as Starscream's possession, but Perceptor can not deny the reality no sooner than he can deny the collar around his neck that binds him to his service, "…While his pet…he ordained the construction of many energon processors, and had them placed on neighboring planets. The energon gathering systems collected energon based on solar power, wind power, each processor depending on the planet it inhabited. I don't understand why he would speak of traveling so far to this particular planet in search of energon, when the other energon processors were powering plenty of energon to sustain all the mechs and femmes who remain on Cybertron, with excess to spare."

"It still troubles me." Optimus Prime paces, gaze lowered to track his footsteps, "We are missing a valuable piece of data. I fear that when we realize the truth of Starscream and this 'Fallen' individual's endeavors, it may be too late for us to do anything to counter their actions."

"Perceptor." The Neutral startles when Ironhide summons him by his designation, not expecting the weapons specialist to bother to learn his designation, and neither did he anticipate the Autobot willingly addressing him, "Did you hear anything else while aboard the ship, when you were being transported to Earth?"

Perceptor whips his helm left and right in staunch denial, "N-No. We were not t-too far into our journey before we were struck by a sudden asteroid field. During the confusion, I managed to escape from my watcher, and acquired the services of one of the escape pods. Thankfully the pod's destination coordinates were the same as the ship; otherwise Primus knows what planet or solar system I would have ended."

"We are all very fortunate that you are in optimal health, and here on Earth. You've risked a great deal, Perceptor." Optimus Prime admits, stopping his pacing, standing with his hands behind him, folded against the small of his back, "You have risked Starscream's rage…boarding an unfamiliar shuttle and gambling whether or not losing your way somewhere during your journey through the galaxy. Even now you chance your discovery by the Decepticons forces here on Earth, as well as the human inhabitants. These perils you have willingly faced. But for reasons unknown. As a Neutral, you are not bound by oath or duty to assist or warrant intelligence gathering to the Autobots. Perceptor, I ask that you please answer this question for me: Why are you here, after having risked so much?"

Perceptor raises his chin, staring back at the Prime with a stirring of pride and resoluteness, "Regardless that I have no faction, nor an interest in this war that has claimed so many I have loved, I do agree with one of your decrees, Lord Prime. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. And whatever my master and this Fallen are planning, I fear that these humans will suffer equal, or worse, far greater loss than I."

Disguised once more in their Earth vehicle modes, Optimus Prime converses with Maggie before they depart and make the journey back to base. "He needs to rest, after such a long, tiring day." He warns her with regret, "Our conversation was not for the light of Spark, and I feel that we may have overwhelmed him."

Maggie pats the nose of the semi truck in small comfort, pushing her long blonde hair back as the wind picks up, tossing the gold spun strands around her face, "Just give him some time. He's a bit shy, but it seems like everything is turning out all right."

"I hate to trouble you once again, Maggie, but you may be having another visitor."

"Oh?"

"We have reason to worry that because of his involvement with us, Sam Witwicky may be in great danger." The Prime hushes his voice, not wanting to alarm his human friend, noting the rise of her pulse rate, and the concern radiating from her tensed posture, "Sam is also showing signs of extreme distress, agitation, short-term memory loss and disorientation. So much so that his parents pulled him out of this…college of his, and begged Bumblebee to watch over him. As a precaution, we agreed it best to place Sam with a trusted ally, and away from any prying eyes. For a few days, at the very least…If you do not mind."

Maggie chuckles, "First, an alien robot as my guest. Next a young, excitable cute college student. If my husband hears about any of this, he will have a coronary for sure."

Optimus takes her amusement as a show of agreement, "Thank you once again, Maggie. We are in your debt."

"Are you kidding?" Maggie shakes her head as Optimus and the others carefully back out of her driveway, mindful not to run over and trample any of the tall hedges, "After all of your help with my research grants and government projects surrounding the study of your Cybertronian technology, I should be thanking you guys."

Maggie waves goodbye to the Autobots as they roll away from her house and property, never noticing the small, gleaming ruby orb following the disappearance of the three mechs.

The reed-thin Decepticon chirred knowingly, tilting its thin body to glance in the direction of the old barn. Ruby gaze flitting through different visual ranges and infrared scans, while taking several digital images, summarizing his intel and streaming the files to Soundwave.

Soundwave's talons rattle across the white and ivory plates of the satellite he is latched upon, the Decepticon parasite perched upon the floating surveillance vessel. He opens the data files and speed reads through them, agreeing with his symbiote's assessments of the perimeter and status of the Neutral Cybertronian.

They have waited long enough. Now was the time to act.

"Decepticons. Samuel Witwicky and Cybertronian designated as Perceptor will converge onto same coordinates within the next twenty four hours. Move in and retrieve both immediately once the boy has made contact with the mech."

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: I don't have anything against Ironhide of his character, and I hope readers don't think that. But honestly, as a warrior and a weapons specialist, I can envision the mech being utterly suspicious of the stranger in their midst, and sadly, shooting first and asking questions later, especially at the mention of a hated Decepticon.