Fandom: Transformers IDW, Knights of Light
Author: gatekat, Starsheild on LJ
Pairings: Jazz/Prowl (eventually)
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Codes: AU, Sticky, MechPreg (eventually), Sparklings (eventually)
Summary: When an aimless young saboteur and a gifted but unhappy tactician crash land on a world far from home, their suddenly new lack of choices may be the best thing that has ever happened to them.
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics dot livejournal dot com/290 dot html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
nanoklik = 1/8 second;
klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;
breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;
groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;
joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;
orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;
decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;
metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;
vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;
::text:: comm chatter
~text~ hardline/bond chatter

It is recommended that you read this on Ao3 if you can. I update everything over there much more often, and it gets the complete stories, not the smut-stripped ones that show up here.
archiveofourown dot org/works/631313

Grasping a Chance 1: An Unexpected Opportunity
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

::Wing, meet up with Thorn and investigate the disturbance in tunnel 19, between marker 93 and 97,:: the young Knight was pinged by comms.

::Be at the main gate in a klik,:: Thorn's voice responded to them both.

The white jet paused in what he was doing to take the message. ::I'll be right there,:: he replied, looking at what he had been doing, then hurried to put his supplies away before taking off and flying to the main city gates. ::What's going on?::

::Seismic disturbance,:: Dart, the Knight in comms, reported. ::From the readings the ceiling caved in. From the last report, it would not do that without a significant impact from above.::

::Something crashed into the tunnels?:: Wing cycled his optics, catching sight of Thorn nearing the gates and angling to catch up with the long black jet that was his opposite in so many ways. He was short and compact for an airframe, often mistaken for a grounder at a glance, while Thorn was tall and lean and never mistaken for anything other than what he was. Wing was playful and impulsive while Thorn was quite and serious. Wing was impossible to miss entering a room, Thorn almost made it a matter of pride to be able to walk in in plain sight and not be noticed. Wing was physical, always moving, while Thorn could sit still reading for dozens of joors at a time.

Yet they were also good friends and occasional lovers, finding a balance for themselves in the other.

::That's my guess,:: Dart said. ::What it is you need to find out.::

::Gotcha. We'll comm back when we figure out what it was,:: Wing replied, darting over to orbit Thorn a couple of times.

The long black jet tipped his wings in greeting. ::Maybe we'll be fortunate and it will be mineral heavy.::

::You just jinxed us,:: Wing retorted playfully, sidling over to playfully swat his wingtip against Thorn's. ::Because you just said that it'll be a chunk of useless debris to be shoved out of the way and left there.::

::That will suit me as well,:: Thorn teased back, the humorous inflections in his glyphs extremely subtle as they transformed and landed at the tunnel entrance and began walking. "Have I heard correctly that you have managed to avoid penance and penalty for a full metacycle?"

"I have indeed." Wing fluffed armor and wings, pleased with himself. "It wasn't easy, that I'll admit, but I managed it, much to carrier's surprise."

"And hidden delight, no doubt," Thorn chuckled softly as the tunnel darkened, now lit only by their optics, one set golden, the other deep red. "I'm sure Axe was there with a smirk and an 'I told you so' at some point that orn."

"Most likely," the white mech agreed cheerfully. He peered down the tunnel. This was not one of the ones he used when sneaking to the surface, so he wasn't in this area that often.

They walked in general silence to marker 93 and stopped, their optics sweeping over the debris.

"So much for a meteor," Thorn murmured as he moved forward carefully to examine the mangled collection of metal, glass, plastic and wires strewn about the floor and the large object they came from. ::I'm getting two spark readings.::

::On my way,:: Redline responded as Dart relayed the message to various Knights.

::Is there surface access to the ship?:: Axe asked.

Wing bobbed back and forth, looking a bit birdlike as he eyed the pile of wreckage. Finally, the small jet skittered up the side that was least likely to crumple under him. ::Looks like it buried itself in pretty deep. Can't tell from here if there's surface access.::

::Marwir is picking me up. I'll find out,:: Demeter spoke up on the general channel.

::Atl, Dive, Shogun. Join me at the site,:: Axe ordered calmly.

::What readings can you get on the survivors?:: Redline demanded.

There was a chorus of affirmatives from the named mecha. Wing climbed carefully over the wreckage, scanning the two life-signs within. ::They're badly damaged, from what my scanners are saying. Won't be able to tell exactly how bad till they're out of this slag pile, but it's going to be bad.::

::Understood,:: Redline replied.

::Any clue what kind of ship it was?:: Demeter asked. ::At least the size class.::

::It doesn't appear to be very big. Big enough for two mecha, maybe a couple more.:: Wing frowned at the wrecked ship, trying to puzzle out what class it had been. One audial fin twitched at the sound of other mecha approaching.

He recognized the light step of Marwir and the heavy thud of Redline as the first to arrive. Demeter, in her turbofox alt, was off Marwir's shoulder and set to work finding out if the ship could be lifted easily or if another option was better.

"What a mess," Redline muttered as he set to work moving and cutting the ship apart. A task that went quickly when the others arrived. Eight Knights, three of them larger than average, made for an efficient rescue crew.

::I found one,:: Demeter's comm didn't interrupt anyone's movements, though they all paid attention. ::I'm amazed he's still alive. Mid-sized grounder frame, I think. Not a lot left of it. Out cold, but his spark's still pulsing.::

The large red Knight designated Shogun let out a grunt as he grabbed hold of a hull plate and pulled. His hydraulics whined in protest as he peeled the crumpled metal slowly away from the wrecked frame, opening the gap wider. Wing eased over to peer in through the hole, wincing at the amount of damage. "Primus... How did he ever manage to survive?"

"Just get him out as soon as you can," Redline insisted.

"Let me," Marwir interrupted as she put a hand on Wing's arm and worked to get her small frame into the gap. "I've handled critically injured mecha before."

::Got the other one. Used to be Praxian. I think. There's part of a doorwing still attached and a red chevron,:: Demeter called out from deeper in the ship. ::He's got stronger vitals. Not by much, though.::

The young jet moved out of the way so Marwir could get in. He'd been created after the exodus from Cybertron, and major accidents were rare in New Crystal City, so he had practically no real experience with severe injuries, and had the sense to let those who did do their thing. Hanging back and helping move smaller pieces of debris out of the way, he winced as the wounded mecha were carefully extracted, revealing the full extent of the damage.

One had lost both legs and one arm, the other crushed along with his pelvic girdle, half his chest and part of his face was sheered off. The only distinctive features that remained were the corner of what had once been a bright blue visor and stubby black sensor horns. By the time Redline had stabilized him enough for transport his companion had been extracted. He was in a little better shape, having been further back in the craft, but not by a lot. His entire left side had been crushed beyond recognition, his right side burned horribly but still largely intact. Wing couldn't imagine surviving such injuries, but as he took in the reactions of those who knew such things he realized that it was grim, but not the worst any of them had witnessed with survivors.

Marwir was at his side, a hand on his shoulder and her field extended, offering support if he needed it.

Wing had never seen someone so badly injured before. White armor clamped tight to his frame, his wings trembling against his back. He leaned closer to Marwir, needing the contact.

"They've survived this far, their odds are better than it looks," she murmured reassuringly to her former student.

"I'll take your word for that," Wing murmured back, voice unsteady. "That looks... really bad."

"It is," Axe came over to put a hand on his creation's shoulder. Redline sent the first rescue off with Shogun to the medial bay while he worked to stabilize the second for transport. "It is very bad. As long as they are not a bonded pair, at least one should survive. I've seen mecha recover from worse. So long as the spark chamber is undamaged, the rest can be rebuilt."

The white jet pressed himself against black armor. "I've never seen anyone hurt that badly. Will they really recover?"

"We will do all we can," Axe promised softly, rubbing a soothing hand down Wing's back. "For now, all we can do is give Redline space, supplies and see what we can discover about them in the shuttle."

Wing nodded reluctantly. He was still shaken; that would take some time, and later some cuddling with his creators, to work off. "What do you want me to do?"

We need to clean as much as we can down here, then dig it out from above. If you find anything that hints at who or what they are, say so," Axe instructed as he let go. "Focusing on work will make time go more smoothly."

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

He booted up slowly, groggy with medial overrides that kept his memory files and most databases off line while his frame went through the aggravatingly slow process of doing a deep code and physical check of each and every system. Vaguely, he was sure he should know why. This wasn't an unknown sensation. It carried the taste of unpleasantness and aching and boredom, though he couldn't remember why yet.

The physical unpleasantness of his frame bloomed across his awareness a moment later, followed by a lessening of the foggy thoughts as processors booted and protocols loaded.

A low groan escaped his vocalizer.

"Be happy you're feeling all this," a deep rumble came from his right. It was a voice he knew instantly he had never heard before. "Can you pull up your designation?"

Instead of answering he finished booting, waiting until his memory logs had been correlated and his last memories accessed.

He'd been on a shuttle with one of the SpecOps bots, a relatively new recruit, though he'd survived enough missions to no longer be a rookie. Jazz. The pilot was Jazz. Not a mech he'd seen more than a few times before, always in a briefing. Not a mech he wanted to see outside of a brief.

What happened after the launch from Cybertron he could not recall.

Reluctantly he booted his optics and looked towards the speaker. Mid-sized, dark yellow-orange optics, white and red with a medic's cross on his chestplate. No faction insignia to be seen. Transponder answered Redline, Knight of Light.

"I am Prowl," he said carefully, trying to pull up anything on the Knights of Light he had and found nothing.

The medic grunted softly, eying the monitors still hooked up to Prowl's frame. "Can you tell me what happened? How you ended up here?"

"I was in a shuttle to Cybertron's larger moon," Prowl recalled what he could. "Everything I have in memory indicates an uneventful journey, though we had not yet cleared Cybertron's atmosphere."

"You must have had one Pit of a problem, to have ended up this far from Cybertron." Redline frowned at the monitors. "Try not to move too much. You underwent a major rebuild, and your systems will be a time adjusting."

"I gathered as much from my HUD notice list," Prowl said evenly. "I will comply."

The white and red mech grunted. "Finally, a mech with some sense." He tapped one of the displays, scanned the results, then disconnected a couple of the monitors attached to Prowl.

"Where is here?" Prowl asked politely, remaining compliantly still with his field pulled in tightly.

"A very long way from Cybertron," Redline responded, deliberately vague. "More than that is for my superiors to say."

"I understand," Prowl internally listed himself as a POW. "Did the pilot survive?"

"He did survive. His injuries were worse than yours, but he survived and will recover. He has not yet regained consciousness, though," Redline replied after a moment, remotely checking on the other patient's status. "What is his designation?"

"Jazz," he responded, quietly hoping that the other mech wouldn't object. "What will be done with us?"

"That is up to my superiors. One of them will be along to speak with you once I decide you're coherent enough." This time the medic didn't look up from his monitors.

"Understood." Prowl checked his comms, noted that they were repaired but with a medical block on them, and took it to mean he was being isolated, both from people and the info-nets of the area. He could hack the block, and began by poking at it to see how it would respond to a reasonable challenge. While the block stayed put, the medic also didn't tell him to stop. Breaking it would take at least an orn, possibly longer, but he had little else to occupy himself with for the time being.

The medic's yellow-orange optics regarded Prowl for a klik before returning to the monitors, observing the readings. For about a half breem there was silence, then the sound of heavy pedefalls, the steps of a very big mech, became audible.

Prowl remained still, as compliant as any patient Redline had ever had, only turning his helm slightly so he could look at the door when it opened. He forced himself to even out his stalled vents, but he had no doubt that shocked recognition flashed across his face and doorwings before he controlled it. If this mecha was reentering the political scene, the Prime was in trouble, and so was Megatron.

Red optics narrowed as the massive blue, white, and black triple changer entered the room Prowl was being kept in. The giant's expression was otherwise impassive as he stalked forward, looming over the berth.

"You recognize me," the giant rumbled. It wasn't a question.

"Anyone who reads military history would, General Dai Atlas," Prowl said respectfully. He didn't even realize he was displaying submission in his optics and wings, such as he could laying flat on his back in a medical berth. He could hear it in his vocalizations though, and he knew he couldn't conceal that he was afraid of this mecha.

"I gave up that rank long ago," Dai Atlas informed the smaller mech. "Long before I left Cybertron with the Circle and as many noncombatants as would follow us." He scrutinized Prowl for a long moment. "Why did you come here?"

"It was not intentional," Prowl answered simply as he amended the file on Dai Atlas. "We were traveling to the greater moon of Cybertron."

Red optics narrowed to slits. Above his helm, the yellow gem of Dai Atlas' Great Sword flared. "Then how did you end up here? It took us many thousands of vorns to find this world, far from Cybertron, far enough away that the war could not reach us."

"I do not know," Prowl said honestly, forcing his field outward to give the giant a chance to teek the truth of his words. "I do not even know what happened that diverted our course from the moon."

Dai Atlas' gaze shifted to Redline, who nodded. "His short-term memory banks were damaged in the crash, and the data was erased. Not unexpected considering the extent of the damage he suffered."

That got a growl from the blue and white giant before his gaze shifted back to Prowl. "We cannot risk the war finding us. You and your companion cannot be permitted to leave the city."

Prowl's mouth opened in shock so deep it nearly crashed his processors even as his battle computer, thankfully spared, went to work on that bit of intel. "Why ... what is our fate, then?" he almost managed to stabilize his voice.

Long, wide wings flared out. "For the moment, you will be under the guard of the Knights. Perhaps, in time, you will become a citizen of our city."

Prowl's processors spun as he worked to assess that. Nothing in his existence prepared him for such a task. He didn't even know where to begin, so that was where he focused. "What is expected of me to become a citizen?"

"You will give up your weapons and your battle mods," Dai Atlas informed him firmly. "Residents of New Crystal City do not carry arms. Only Knights carry weapons, and then only blades, in defense of city and citizens. You will be expected to work, like all citizens, for your livelihood."

Prowl choked on the first part. Give up his tac-net? He'd been sparked to support it.

"Purely battle mods," Redline spoke up at the stricken expression Prowl was wearing. "That tactical system has uses outside battle."

He sagged in relief, his armor clicking faintly as systems powered down that he hadn't even realize he'd taken to battle readiness.

Dai Atlas rumbled softly. "One of my Knights will be assigned to keep an optic on you until it is decided that you are ready to integrate into our society, once your battle mods and weapons have been removed."

"I understand," Prowl said quietly. "Will I be allowed to speak with Jazz once he wakes?"

"You will be permitted to speak with him once he regains consciousness. But you will both be guarded by different Knights and housed separately." The Knight leader gazed at Prowl for a long moment. "We will speak again."

Prowl nodded, still largely in shock but rapidly prioritizing his needs as the giant left.

Redline watched Dai Atlas go, then looked back to Prowl. He looked over the monitors again, staying back to give Prowl a chance to digest at least some of those revelations. The Praxian's world had been turned on its audial; adapting would not be easy.

"Redline, what do I need to do to gain access to the public datanet?" Prowl asked, his voice once more level, nearly monotone.

"Once you are fully coherent and a Knight has been assigned to you, you will be given limited access to the datanet," the medic answered, looking up. "It will be monitored, of course. Full access might take a while."

"I expected such," Prowl murmured and tried to relax on the berth to give his aching frame time to adjust to the massive number of repairs. "My processors are functioning at 68.3% of peek efficiency. I am coherent as I become."

"You still need time to heal. The damage was severe; we were amazed that either of you survived that crash." Redline stepped out of view for a klik, reappearing with an energon cube in his hands. From the color, it was heavily impregnated with minerals needed for the new parts to integrate and all the nanoscale repairs to finish. "Your frame will be aching for at least a couple of orns."

"I understand," Prowl carefully lifted his helm enough to drink, grateful that these Neutrals had the energon and supplies to spare. "I have been rebuilt before. It is never pleasant."

Redline stepped closer, holding the energon cube for him in case Prowl was not yet steady enough to do so. "Then the list of don'ts as long as your arm should be familiar to you."

"They are, sir," Prowl said between sips, careful not to drink too much in case new systems rebelled at the thick energon. "Though they largely sum up to 'remain still, relax and recharge until I say otherwise' which was generally about when I stopped aching."

"Sounds about right," Redline confirmed, watching with critical optics as Prowl drank.

"I will heal better in stage one medical stasis," Prowl said after he finished the cube. "It's the only way to safely shut my tac-net down."

Redline turned to make a note on a datachart, revealing a long, intricate sword on his back, similar to the one Dai Atlas had been carrying, though the gem was a different color. "Good to know. I'll put you into stasis, then, until you are more fully healed." Putting down the datachart, he walked over to the berth, smoothly shutting Prowl down into stasis.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Slow boot override medical codes.

Even though Jazz had only spent a short time in Spec Ops so far, he had already acquired the division's distaste for them. They interfered with everything that his system was screaming was important. Being ready and alert, able to react in a moments notice.

Right now they were making his processor twitch, distracting him from the series of green light notices as each system came online without a hitch. There was a marred line of memory code that was bothering him, something that had gone wrong.

Terribly wrong, he realized as he started looking at the list of damages and repairs.

Finally his optics cycled on, and in a moment of comfort he realized that his visor still shielded his optics as he looked around the unfamiliar room.

"Good, you are finally awake," a deep, unfamiliar voice rumbled with the cadence and sub-harmonics of a seasoned medic. "Do you remember your designation?"

"Maybe." The mech on the medical berth winced as he forced his neck to turn in the direction of the voice.

"I would like to call you something other than 'patient.' My designation is Redline," he said with strained patience. "Your companion called you Jazz. Does that sound about right?"

Companion ... that meant Prowl was alive and functional enough to talk. A small bit of tension faded from Jazz's frame. He had not failed in his assignment, at least. "Yeah. I'm Jazz. He's all right then?"

"Yes. He required repairs almost as extensive as yours," Redline nodded, his deep yellow-orange optics still on the monitors for the most part. "He woke last orn. Any errors?"

"None so far. And I think I've hit the end of the list finally." Jazz said, diverting enough of his attention from studying the new mech and his surroundings to answer the direct question. "So where are we, and when do I get to see him?"

"He will be allowed to visit you when I allow him to get up," Redline said firmly. "After that you will have to arrange meetings through your respective Knights. It's not my place to tell you where or when you are."

"It's mine," a deep rumble snapped Jazz's attention to the opening door and the very large black mech standing beyond it. "It's good to see you functional, Jazz. I am Master of Light Axe of New Crystal City," he introduced himself as he stepped into the room. "You will be here a long time, so relax." He gave a bit of a grin and leaned against a nearby wall so Jazz could easily see him without craning his neck. "How are you feeling?"

"Master of Light of New Crystal City?" Jazz repeated, rolling that around as he took in the large mech. Everything from his massive aerial frame to the blade rising above his shoulder, similar yet different from that of the medic on the other side of the room. If Jazz needed any sort of hint that he was no longer on Cybertron or any of its moons, that was a good place to start.

"Yes," Axe nodded patiently. "You may call me Axe."

"Like a garbage drone picked me up, processed me good, and spit me back out," he finally answered. "Though hopefully I look better than I feel."

"You do," Axe promised. "Physically, you have been completely repaired."

"Caveat," Redline broke in. "You have a fully functional frame. I had next to nothing to work with on what you might have looked like before, so you likely look quite different now."

"What?" Jazz demanded, craning his neck around once more and trying to sit up for a better look at himself. It wasn't so much at the fact the he had changed- he'd been through plenty of cosmetic changes and had never really become attached to any one particular look- as the fact that he needed to know what he looked like when others saw him. He needed to know how to blend in, how to disappear or be the center of attention. He had relearned an entire frame several times, but just because he could did not mean he was looking forward to doing so again. "What did you change?"

Suspicion filled him, and he focused on the large black mech without giving Redline a chance to really answer. "What do you want with me?"

"I don't know what I changed because I don't know what you looked like before," Redline repeated calmly. "I repaired what I could, replaced what I couldn't."

"A few answers for now," Axe relaxed against the wall. "How did you get here?"

A soft growl issued from Jazz as he sorted back through his memories, finding the gaps and trying to determine what had happened. "The last thing I remember is being ordered to shuttle Prowl out to one of the moons. He had some sort of meeting there, and my CO wanted me to have more time flying one of the medium shuttles."

Or at least, that had been the cover story that they had fed everyone. The excuse to get Jazz on the moon.

"What happened after you cleared Cybertron's atmosphere?" Axe asked more pointedly even as Redline gave the black Knight a warning glare.

Jazz searched his memories, not being able to pinpoint anything specific. "An explosion."

His own panic, and not being able to pinpoint how or why. The feeling of being out of control, and not being able to do anything about it.

On the surface he was fine, collected and controlled. Underneath though, his systems started to heat up, preparing to react to something that may or may not happen again.

"How badly do you wish to return to Cybertron and the war?" Axe's voice softened, the modulation that of an uncomfortable question he really didn't want to ask.

That caught Jazz off guard, and for a moment he just stared at the large mech, processing the question. Then he shrugged. "Don't really care. There's nothing there for me."

It was true. The Decepticons had destroyed what little life he'd had. The Autobots had sort of taken him and given him something to do. But he owed nothing to either of them.

The way both the other mechs seemed to sag slightly in relief was ... interesting.

"Good," Axe spoke before Jazz had formatted a full response to their reaction. "Because we can not afford to let you go back. We will do our best to help you find a home here. Every mecha in the city does something productive."

Instead of calming him the response has Jazz bristling again. "Can't afford to let me go back? Where am I? And what sort of 'productive'?"

"You are in New Crystal City, and we will not be dragged into the war we left Cybertron to escape," Axe said with the firmness of one who believed it to his very spark. "We have preserved Cybertron's history, science and much of the culture. We will do what is needed to maintain it." He forced himself to settle and get the rumble from his voice. "Productive. Contributing to society and the needs of the city. There are hundreds of functions to choose from."

The small mech on the berth settled some, but he still watched both of the other mecha in the room warily. "So I am a prisoner."

"Until you are ready to choose to live here, yes," Axe acknowledged with a slight nod. "A Knight will be assigned to you, to keep track of you and to help you adjust. You will go nowhere without him. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Jazz said. Yes, he understood. He understood what was being said.

Axe nodded. "I will answer any questions I can, if you wish to ask."

Blue visor swung from one mecha to the other. "When do I get out of here and meet this new guard?"

"If you integrate all your new components as rapidly as your companion did, two orns," Redline said firmly. "Your companion is likely to be able to visit later tonight."

"As for your guard, he'll drop in as soon as he finishes his duty shift, I expect," Axe made a long-suffering sound. "Wing is entirely too excited to meet you."

"Wing." Jazz repeated, and just nodded. "Fine."

Axe paused, giving him a moment to ask a question, then settled his armor as he pushed off the wall and left.

Redline moved to get a cube of energon thick with additives, but waited for the door to close behind the giant before approaching Jazz. "Prowl chose to finish integrating his repairs in level one medical stasis. You do not have his specialized mods, but I can do that for you, if you prefer it to staring at the ceiling for two orns."

"Nah." Jazz said, taking the energon and studying it before he took a sip. "I'll spend it staring at the ceiling."

The medic nodded and left Jazz to consume his energon and entertain himself for a while. For his part the small mech settled in to integrate everything that he had learned and let his systems settle.

If his chronometer was to be trusted, he had just over two joors of relative peace before the door slid open and a mid-sized white mech with splashes of red and bright golden optics walked in.

Well, bounded might be a more accurate description, especially given the wide, happy grin the mech was wearing.

"I'm so glad you recovered," the white mech said eagerly, honesty all but radiating from him. "When I saw you..." he shuddered. "It was hard to believe anyone could survive with that little of their frame intact."

"If you have before pictures I can tell you if I've been through worse." Jazz replied, helm tilted to the side as he studied the small jet, judging him to be another Knight if the blade on his back was any indication. "You would be Wing, I'm guessing?"

"Oh, yes, that's me," Wing beamed, if a bit embarrassed. "And you're Jazz." Wing fumbled for a datapad in his subspace, pinged a few memory-captures of the two shattered, mangled and more than half missing frames as they were pulled out of the metal and stone tomb that the shuttle had become, then a couple more as Redline stabilized them for transport, and handed it over. "I'd never seen anything like it. You look so much better now. So does Prowl, though he was still in stasis so I couldn't talk to him. Your entire frame must ache with that many repairs."

"Okay, I may never have looked that bad." Jazz admitted, looking at the data captions and grudgingly had to admit that Redline had very little to work with. "And yeah, I'm sore."

He offered the datapad back to Wing and returned to studying the small jet, still so much larger than himself. "You've seen Prowl?"

"Yes, but he's in stasis," Wing nodded and hopped up to sit on the berth near Jazz's hip as he pinged a couple more memory captures to the datapad and handed it over. "There was enough of one wing and a chevron left that he has them, even if Dai Atlas and Axe don't believe he'll recognize himself. Redline did his best with what he had. And, well, you'll fit into the city better now. Might not be what you want to hear, but you do look like one of us now."

"One of you?" Jazz repeated as he resisted the urge to flinch away from the strange mech and his oddly cheerful field. "So what are you planning to do with me?"

"Yes, you both look like you're from New Crystal City," Wing smiled, flaring his field full of encouragement and warmth. "You won't get nearly as many funny looks as old-world war-frames would get. Only a handful of mecha have such heavy frames." He paused, trying to work out the intent of the second question and decided to go with the literal answer for now. "I'll show you around, help you adapt, arrange for any training you need for your function here and do my best to keep you out of trouble until you're on your own."

"So you literally are my keeper." Jazz said with a slow smile. Oh, this could turn out to be very fun, if he was reading this mech right.

"Until you don't need one, or you prove too much for me to handle," Wing nodded, suddenly serious. "Then you'd go to the Knight that tamed me. It's not an experience I recommend."

Jazz hummed softly, a non-committal sound as he settled back on the berth. "So what more will you tell me of the city, since I am stuck here until the medic lets me go?"

"Anything you want to know, I think," Wing said cheerfully. "Just an overview, or questions to start with?"

"Just any overview, whatever is important." Jazz said as he settled in to gather information and plot.

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The halls of the Citadel were quiet as Thorn made his way down to the medical wing to check on the mech that was to be his new charge. Redline has said that if he booted well the mech would be released into his care today, and the dark-armored Knight wished to be there when he woke.

Red optics swept over the still form as he stepped into the room. Prowl was the designation the stranger had given. It would be interesting to see if he lived up to the implications of his designation. Thorn had already been warned of the advanced systems this new mech carried, systems that everyone was hoping could and would be turned to the good of the city and most of the Knights were wary of facing if he didn't. There was something more unsettling about the calm compliance Prowl offered than the aggressive demands and agitation of Jazz.

"All his readings are good," Redline commented as Thorn entered the room. "Any last questions before I bring him up?"

"Not unless there are changes to the information packet you sent me." Thorn had gone over everything, from signs of strain that he should be on the lookout for, both mental and physical, to the special diet that that Prowl was to be on until his self repair systems had finished aligning and integrating all the new changes and repairs, to the warnings that he was a lot smarter than Thorn, or really anyone in the city, about anything that tac-net was directed at. "I was planning to take him by to see his pilot, just long enough to show them both that we are not lying about the other being onlined and repaired. Wing should be off duty by then so he can be present as well."

"A good plan," Redline nodded and typed in the commands for the equipment still hooked up to Prowl to bring him out of stasis and into regular recharge. "They both made it clear they wished to see the other. It's possible he'll remain in recharge, though I doubt he will. That tac-net doesn't like being shut down."

"So I've been warned." Thorn replied as he stepped closer to the berth, calm field just in Prowl's reach once the recharging mech woke. "I've already compiled a list of things for him to start on, just to keep him busy for a while. Hopefully the history of the city will keep him occupied for an orn or two while I get a feel for him."

Redline nodded, watching monitors as his patient came out of stasis, and sure enough, the tac-net that dominated so much of the mech's coding and internal design demanded he come to full awareness the moment it began to boot. With the medical overrides in place that took the better part of a groon, but Prowl's field, calm, steady and curious in the way of many intelligent sparklings, reached out much sooner.

Thorn's responded, calm and inviting, offering a sense of order and peace to the other mech. His attention remained focused on Prowl as gold optics came to life and he addressed his charge. "Welcome to New Crystal City, Prowl. I am Thorn."

There was a quiet moment as Prowl's new optics swept the room, noting those present and all objects. Then he focused on Thorn and the Knight felt the full intensity of the mech's focus. "You are my guard."

While there were the harmonics of a question, Thorn had little doubt that it really was one.

The dark aerial nodded slowly, optics never leaving Prowl's. "Until you are able and ready to be function on your own in our city, yes. How are you feeling?" The answer was stated as fact, with no undertones of threat weakness. The question was uttered all sincerity, Thorn truly concerned for the mech that was being placed in his care.

The focus and intensity...they were going to take some getting used to. But on another level Thorn was already fascinated with the mech that had consciously known less than a breem.

"The ache is minimal," Prowl reported, his tone that of responding to the medical officer, who Thorn realized Prowl's gaze had shifted to. "Processors and systems are all within normal parameters. The only warning is my tac-net objecting to the comm lockdown. I understand the reason for it," he added as he carefully sat up, only to freeze as he reached vertical.

His wings, long, elegant sweeps that could be upgraded to flight quality if they'd misjudged him as a grounder, twitched and flicked. Carefully Prowl looked over his shoulder, his gaze pausing at the white expanse, only to continue to the gradually moving sixth limb. "I would like to see my entire frame."

Thorn stepped forward slowly, glancing to Redline for approval before he offered a hand to help Prowl from the med berth and to a place where he could see himself in a reflective surface.

"You will be able to get a better look when we go to a detailer's to activate and prime your chromates. Any small cosmetic changes can be done then as well."

Prowl simply took it all in, carefully moving and angling various parts to assess his new appearance. He took slightly more care in looking at his faceplates and helm. Through it all, his field flickered between neutral and curious to a bit surprised.

"I did not assess this to be a flight frame," Prowl looked between the two Knights.

"It's not, but it could be." Was the response, calm and relaxing with Prowl's apparent acceptance of his new frame. "We were unsure of your actual frame type when we found you, with so much of it missing. Though you would not be the first grounder given flight in this city, should you have the desire and the aptitude for it."

Prowl's wings cocked in interest, though nothing intense enough to drive him. "I was a Praxian Enforcer, a standard doorwing design. This is ... quite attractive," he decided after a moment and another look at himself in the mildly reflective wall. "I would have missed the chevron and some kind of sensor wings," he admitted, golden optics looking up at Redline, who was fluffed slightly at the praise he rarely heard. "I will become accustomed to golden optics." Something uneasy flickered in his field, quickly controlled and buried. "Thank you for saving my life and building such a nice frame for me."

Redline puffed a bit more. "You are welcome, Prowl. What color were your optics?"

"Pale blue," he added the exact shade code. "A new existence, a completely new appearance. The gold is fitting."

"If you are ready, we can go." Thorn informed Prowl after checking with Redline again. "We are going to stop and see your pilot before I show you where you are going to be staying."

"I am ready," Prowl inclined his helm and wings to the lithe black jet with gold highlights and the disturbing glowing red markings.

It was a short trip between the two rooms, though Thorn took it slowly to allow Prowl time to adjust to his frame and being in motion once more. He paused outside the door and smiled a bit. "Your pilot is awake, and it sounds like his guard is already present as well. Wing is a good spark, if excitable and enthusiastic." He warned as he keyed the door open.

Inside Jazz was seated on the berth, blue visor snapping to focus on the door as it opened to allow Thorn and Prowl to enter. The dark jet glanced around before stepping to the side and motioning Prowl in.

"I am familiar with the type," Prowl said simply, his stance and voice stiff and devoid of apparent emotion, his field pulled in tight. Even his sensor wings were held at a high alert and unnervingly still.

"Hi Prowl," Wing grinned warmly at him. "It's good to see you moving about."

"Hello Wing," Prowl inclined his helm and wings politely to the Knight. He did not say a thing to the other occupant of the berth as he walked up. His field extended briefly, catching the edge of Jazz's in a request for identity confirmation and offering his own in the processes.

For a moment both mecha appeared to ignore their keepers as they went through the motions of confirming that no matter how their frames appeared different on the surface, they were still the same mecha that had departed Cybetron on a small shuttle and woke to find themselves in a strange city together.

"Sir." Jazz finally offered, though the tone was casual as he looked at Prowl, feeling out the other mecha's reaction to where they were and checking that Prowl's condition matched what his optics were telling him.

It was a relief to realize that Prowl's repairs were on par with his own. The mech was still a touch unsteady, the echoes of the massive rebuild clear, but just as clear was that his spark was strong and so was the frame.

"Soldier," Prowl replied, only the faintest relief in his voice to knowing his pilot was alive and well. Even if he did not know the mech, he was still a fellow Autobot in a very strange situation. It dramatically improved Prowl's calculations to have a mecha he could trust to follow orders and plot with on hand. "I expect you enjoyed having the company," his helm moved fractionally to indicate Wing. His tone was impossible to read, but that was par for the course with Prowl as far as Jazz had experienced.

"It's been very educational." Jazz said with a smile for his guard, and one for Prowl. "Their doc-bot said I should be getting out of here soon enough."

"Good," Prowl did sound relieved, at least to those who were good at picking up subtle signals. "I would like to meet up and talk when we have had a couple orns to explore." Prowl graced all three of them with looks, fully aware that such an event required everyone's consent now.

"I am sure that can be arranged, once the two of you have had some time to settle in properly." Thorn said, nodding encouragingly. "But if you both are satisfied that the other has been repaired and is functioning, I should get you settled before Redline comes after me for allowing you to strain yourself."

"Very well," Prowl turned after giving a final nod to Jazz and sedately followed the tall black Knight out of the room.

Prowl's keeper led him through the Citadel, explaining various points of Knight society as he did. Little things, bit of history, the function of various places, where the communal baths were, areas that were off limits.

"And this is the residential section." He keyed open a door and led Prowl into a small common area. "You have your own room. It would belong to my initiate if I was currently training one. My room is over there. You are free to move about here. In an orn or so, after you are stable and recharged, I will show you the common rooms. It is where off duty Knights often gather to refuel and socialize."

"Is the dispenser programmed for my needs, or do I receive my energon from elsewhere?" Prowl asked as his optics swept the room, taking in everything that was there, and the occasional thing that was not there.

"Redline sent the specifics for you. When you pull up the menu there will be an option labeled with your designation. You are welcome to as much as you need," Thorn informed him as he moved across the room and opened the door that led to Prowl's space. Inside was a single berth, some storage, and a meditation area. Initiates had little free time to themselves and really didn't require much more. Thorn tapped the light so that it was on when Prowl wanted to investigate. "Your door does not lock, but you are welcome to close it for privacy."

"I understand," he murmured, taking in so much more than he'd expected. He stepped inside, his optics sweeping around the room before he walked over to the berth and gave it a light press to check for softness. These sensor wings would be much less difficult to lay on than his doorwings had been, but they were still going to be very easy to compress too much. A tiny smile crossed his face when the berth was exactly right.

Prowl simply stared at it for a moment, shock openly written on his features. Thorn gave him a curious look as he quickly composed himself, but did not directly prod. "This is more than I had in Iacon," Prowl answered him. Though he did leave out that the lack was due less to his rank, he was a senior command officer, and more to his own self-induced lack of free time and complete lack of use for more. Here, though, the indulgences of privacy and space and entertainment were welcomed. Much could be learned from public broadcasts and what the victors wrote. He was eager to delve into it all.

"The door will not let you out of my quarters unless I am with you, barring an emergency. The door to the balcony is also locked. It is a flyer's balcony, and lacks rails," Thorn informed him.

While Redline had noticed no suicidal tendencies in either of the strange mecha, he had issued orders that bordered on the side of caution and stated that neither of them were to be left alone or given chances to do themselves harm that could result in their offlining. As the medic put it, he had already put far too much work into them to let it fly out a window.

Thorn crossed the central room to what looked like a large piece of art mounted between two bookshelves and triggered a switch, revealing the picture to be a vidscreen. "Feel free to use the entertainment system or read any of the files on the shelves. The collection down there on the left is a complete history of the city. I spend most of my free time in the common areas, which you can see later."

"I have no intention of harming myself or attempting to escape," Prowl said firmly, his field reaching out to brush Thorn's to back the glyphs up. "I understand the precautions."

"I am glad to hear that." An honest warmth colored Thorn's voice and field. "Would you like to refuel? We can sit and I will answer any questions you might have before recharge."

"That sounds good," Prowl nodded and followed Thorn out. He glanced out the wide balcony door-windows. "Is the city underground?"

"Yes. The entire city complex was constructed underground for protection. Your shuttle crashed into the one the outermost tunnels close to the surface." Thorn explained as they left his quarters. "So far the location has served us well."

"Which is also why you still use Cybertronian time after so long on an alien world," Prowl hummed his understanding, watching and mapping as he followed. "Dai Atlas has led you well, it seems."

Thorn nodded as he led the way to the commons, guiding Prowl in the direction of the energon dispensers when they entered the large space that served as the Citadel commons. "He has led us well. Without him we would not have survived, I suspect, at least not in an any recognizable form as Knights of the Light."

Once he and Prowl both had full cubes he motioned to a secluded seating area out of the way. "Would you like to refuel here, or take it back with us?"

Most of the room had larger tables, some round, some rectangular, and it had the same buzz of activity and energy that the commons he knew from his existence. While not every mecha here carried the large sword on their back, most did. Though he tried, he couldn't pick out a pattern in those that did not. He did not have enough information yet for that.

"Here," Prowl decided, accepting his full cube of medical grade energon thick with additives. Any opportunity to study his new environment was to be taken. "What does it mean, to be a Knight of Light?" he asked politely.

"To follow the Code of Light, to bear a Great Sword and honor it, and all that it represents." Thorn said as he waited for Prowl to settle and then found a seat himself. "And now to protect New Crystal City, its inhabitants, and our way of life."

He looked around at the others in the room. "Everyone that you see here that carries a Great Sword has undergone the same training. We have all faced tests and trials. We are brothers in arms. For many of us, the Knights are the only family we have left."

Prowl nodded slightly. "What of those who are not Knights?" he asked, his gaze sliding across several examples before focusing on his energon.

"Some are mates or stable lovers. There are a few sub-adult creations. The rest, those who carry short swords but not a Great Sword, are Initiates. Knights in training."

Prowl's optics slid across the room again, having an easier time placing mecha in one or two of those three categories. "Am I expected to find a place in the Citadel?"

Thorn shook his helm. "While you may, and there are functions here you would do well as, no, that is not an expectation. There are also many opportunities for you in the city."

"Such as?" Prowl prodded, wanting worse than he cared to admit to know what they saw him as good for.

"Your special upgrades would make you exceptional in any field where planning or data mining is central," Thorn began. "A fact I'm sure you are aware of. You are not restricted to those functions, however. What do you enjoy doing?"

That actually stalled Prowl out for a noticeable moment. Slowly, he responded, "being productive."

Thorn smiled encouragingly. "There are many opportunities for a mech to be productive in the city. As you learn about the city perhaps we can find something that you enjoy as well as fills your functional need." Thorn suggested as he sipped on his energon.

"I am sure there are," Prowl murmured, focusing on his energon briefly before his coding to understand a situation prodded him to speak again. "What functions is the city most in need of?"

"If it makes you feel better, you can consider your current job to be learn about the city and being a citizen of the city." Thorn suggested. "Try new things, and see which ones are easy for you, or concentrate and see if you can find ones that you like more than others."

Prowl nodded, though the motion was weak. "I have never backed down from a challenge before. I will not now."

Thorn's helm tilted to the side slightly as he studied the mech seated across from him, field reaching out in a calm, comforting manner and met a chaotic, unsettling mix of distress, loss, fear and the most intense sense of lost he'd ever felt. The veneer of tenacity and refusal to fail only just contained the hurt the rest represented. He felt for the mech. This wasn't a situation he would wish on anyone, but especially not someone who seemed honestly content with their former existence. "The city is always in need of those with the ability to see to its future. Right now we are far from full, but eventually we will need to expand, if that is your interest. Various management positions open up, as some mecha move on to other things. What sort of work did you do as an Enforcer?"

"I have always been a tactician," Prowl said simply. "I was sparked to support the tac-net I have. I have worked in emergency response, disaster response, SWAT and for the Prime preparing for the war and then managing the Autobot side of it."

"A sparked mech." Thorn murmured, more to himself than his companion. "The Knights are the city's primary defense force. There is a small civilian peacekeeping force, but in truth there is little for them to do. As you will find when you read the history, all of the mecha who came with us were willing and wanted to be here. Those who have been created since we settled have integrated well. And the entire structure of the city was made to create contentment and allow for everyone to survive."

"How do you plan to control the population once you have reached near-capacity?" Prowl asked evenly.

"By already having an expansion in progress, if not in place and habitable." Thorn replied. "And by keeping a careful optic on our rate of expansion. Every mecha capable of increasing the population is expected to contribute, but at a very controlled rate. So our growth is slow, and we could, in theory, slow it down at any point in time."

"That system has failed before," Prowl said quietly, his optics on his energon. "Free will and a large population make it very difficult to control such personal choices. I hope it works better here than it did on Cybertron."

"What would you suggest doing differently?" Thorn asked, field engaging and full of true interest. "We have millennia to work on the problem, but it is always better to start planning early."

"It has been proven that there are no good answers," he murmured quietly. "The ones that work either produce unstable societies by making the family unit an undesirable thing, or by laws and enforcement that will eventually create unrest as being too repressive. The best balance that I have devised is still of questionable functionality, and the current Prime objects to some moral lines I cross without difficulty. Additives to free energon for the poor that prevents them from kindling. Taxes that penalize rather than reward being a creator. A government-backed education system that includes moral and cultural standards that may be at odds with creators, but encourage young mecha not to have creations until they are relatively old and well off. Taking creations and wiping them if creators are incapable of caring for them."

Thorn pondered that as he sipped at his own energon, sorting through that slowly and accepting the good points as well as the difficult ones. "And what of mecha such as yourself, those that were sparked for a purpose?"

"What of us?" Prowl glanced up, his field flickering with genuine confusion but nothing else. "We exist while we serve a function. We go away when it's done."

"But at the same time you perform functions and fill positions that other mecha, kindled ones, could be trained to fill." Thorn pointed out gently. "There is no way to create mecha like you here."

"In my specific case, it would not be possible to upgrade a kindled mecha to manage my tac-net. At least not without transferring their spark to a smaller frame. A process that I understand has a very high failure rate," Prowl countered without any real emotion to it. "In general, sparked mecha should not exist. Their only valid use is in cases where it is not possible to upgrade or train a kindled mecha for the function without extreme risk to loss of life. We are only popular because we are a cheap and easily controlled commodity, while those who were kindled are not. It is an issue that failed government control paid a direct role in."

"But here it is not a consideration, something else that will slow growth down." Thorn said gently, a sadness creeping into his field as old memories rose in his processor of the world he had left behind when he had made the choice to follow Dai Atlas and the Knights he led in search of a new home. "Even those who do not wish to work or are too old are not forgotten. They may not have much, but they have sufficient energon, shelter, and medical attention. We know what failed on Cybertron, and we are doing our best to avoid it here."

"What do you do with criminals?" Prowl asked.

"They are separated from society as they serve out their punishment and we try to rehabilitate them. Those that cannot be, few that they are, are wiped or deactivated." The dark jet informed Prowl as he finished his energon. "We cannot afford to endanger the rest of the population by allowing those who threaten it to walk the city."

"I hope it continues to work," Prowl said honestly, though he did not hide his doubts. "I would like to recharge soon."

Thorn was on his feet in an instant, offering the Praxian a hand and ignoring the curious looks from the other mecha gathered in the common room. They would have time later to meet the stranger, though Thorn also knew that the gossip was going to be flying thicker than the sand in one of the surface storms in less than a breem.

"Of course. Redline said that you were to recharge until your systems woke on their own, no alarms. And then you can refuel again, and we can talk more of the city."

"That sounds ... good," Prowl accepted the hand up, forcing himself to remember and act on social protocols he had no use for. Now was not the time to alienate anyone with his natural behavior. "I do wish to see the city."

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Jazz was doing his best to hide his impatience, and he would be the first to admit that he was doing a very poor job. He was just so bored of looking at the same fours walls that not even Wing's enthusiastic company was enough to distract him any more.

The medic, Redline, had said that Jazz could leave as soon as his keeper, his guard as Jazz called him in own processor, could come pick him up. That had been almost a joor ago, and Jazz was on the verge of going out looking for the white jet.

"His shift just ended," Redline commented from out of Jazz's line of light. "He's as eager to get out of comms as you are to be out of here."

"If it requires him to sit still I can see why," Jazz commented, not sure that the small white jet had ever been completely still for more than a nanosecond the entire time he had visited.

A low, knowing chuckle was all the reply Redline gave before the door opened and Wing all but burst in.

"Ready to get out of here?" the jet chirped excitedly.

"More than you can imagine." Jazz countered, leaping from the med berth and bounding for the still open door without a pause.

His keeper fell in step with him easily, chatting about anything and nothing as he guided Jazz from the medical wing to the residential quarters. Passing Knights were introduced, though everyone seemed to already know who Jazz was.

Jazz kept his optics and everything else taking in everything; the path, the architecture, the materials, the mecha, the atmosphere, the artwork, right up until a rich brown turbofox trotted up from behind them.

Wing gave a pause in his step with a light hand on Jazz's arm to slow him down so the small creature could catch up easier. "And this is Demeter," he grinned and waved towards the lithe, fluffy mechanimal.

For a nanosecond all Jazz could do was stare at the mecha before him. He had heard of mechanimal-bots, but they were so rare he had never encountered one before. "'Ello. Nice to meet ya."

"It is good to meet you," a light voice responded before the turbofox leapt up, aiming for Wing's shoulder, and transformed before landing. At not even a third of Jazz's height, she was tiny, and the long, fluffy tail was still clearly visible as it waved slowly.

While he was staring, it registered that she had the swords of a Knight, catching Jazz slightly off guard again. "You're a Knight too?" He looked at Wing. "Are there anything but Knights here?"

"In the Citadel, very few," Wing chuckled and moved to walk on. "There are a few dependents, mates or creations, but most of us don't settle down like that."

"Why not?" Jazz asked, simple curiosity as he fell back into step with the white jet, one optic on his guard and his new shoulder decoration while the other kept a watch on their route and surroundings.

Everything was noted. Windows and their level of usefulness as potential escape routes, doors and guess as to where they might lead, the exact path from medical to wherever they were going, and what they passed in-between. The ratio of fliers to grounders, and how they all looked at him. Some with some with suspicion, some that just seemed curious, a few that even appeared welcoming, but all of them judging, all of them clearly trained and experienced warriors.

"Being a Knight is not a function that is conducive to relationships," Demeter responded instead. "Between duty to the Citadel, duty to the Order and recharging, there is very little time left in an orn to devote to a mate. That time, and space, is cut down even more when you take on an Initiate to train."

"The few who have mates are mostly paired up with other Knights, or were raised by Knights," Wing added. "We have a very different existence compared to the citizens we protect."

Jazz hummed, already well on his way to thinking that the life of a Knight was no functioning for him. "So how long am I going to be interrupting your work?" He asked, hoping for an answer that consisted of a very short amount of time, since he had the feeling the sooner he was out of here the sooner he could get on with a normal life.

If he were off Cybertron he might not even bother trying to get back. There was nothing there for him but the war, and there had to be more interesting things in the universe.

"However long it takes for you to accept and adapt to living here," Wing gave the same answer as before with a smile and brush of his field that said that no length of time was a bother. "No timetable has been given for your progress."

Not the answer Jazz wanted, but it was one he could work with. If nothing else, he could act like he was adapting and accepted well enough to get out from under constant supervision.

"What did you do besides pilot shuttles?" Demeter asked as they entered a distinctly more domestic-looking area of hallways. The colors were warmer, the glyphs and decorations spoke of home, calm and safety.

"A little bit of this and a little bit of that." Jazz said casually, taking in the change and almost squirming a little at the foreign sensation. "Some security, some data flow. A lot of courier work, taking messages too sensitive to be sent along normal channels."

It was all true, on a certain level. Many of his messages had been of the rather permanent or destructive variety, but there was no reason that they needed to know that. A lie of omission at most.

"All of that exists here," Wing brightened a bit as he palmed the pad by the door with his designation glyph above it. The door slid open smoothly to a wide-open space of a main room full of knick-knacks and artwork, the results of an eclectic and indulgent personality mixed with a flier's core programming. "I'm afraid the lock won't be coded for you for a while yet. Not until you're allowed to move about on your own."

"Not that I expect it'll stop you from trying," Demeter teased with a knowing look before she leapt off Wing's shoulder and transformed to land on her paws. Her tail swayed lazily as she walked away.

"Not surprised." Jazz answered as he stepped inside and immediately started evaluating his surroundings as he made a note in the file he started on the small Knight strolling down the hall. Demeter was far too observant for his good, and a mecha that he was going to have to keep an optic on.

"Nice place." He commented after turning a complete circle in place and memorized the entire layout in one pass, noting three additional doors, a collection of furniture designed for comfort and sizable gatherings, an entertainment center to rival Blaster's, and potential weapons. Plenty of potential weapons, including a few things that actually were weapons. Clearly trying to saboteur-proof the place had not occurred to Wing.

What really caught his attention though was the huge balcony that didn't even have a door and the vista of a Golden Age city that stretched out beyond it.

"It's home," Wing smiled warmly. "Go ahead and look," he motioned towards the balcony. "We're a long ways up for a grounder to fall, so be careful. There's no railing since I'm a flyer."

Jazz didn't need any additional urging, stepping out quickly and showing no apparent fear at the distance to the ground. All of his attention except for the small portion currently permanently assigned to tracking Wing was occupied by the vision before it.

It was at least the picture of his dreams. Pristine spires rose among well maintained buildings, even the simplest and smallest of which blended into the entire scene in a harmonious whole. Mecha moved about freely on the ground and air, but Jazz could see and even feel the difference.

There was a distinct lack of fear, of hurry, of worry. Some strolled, some moved with focus and purpose, but all of them acted like they belonged.

It was only on the periphery of the scene that things broke down. Where there should have been the gentle curve of Cybertron's surface, there were organically carved stone cavern walls. Where there should have been stars there was a stone cavern ceiling.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Wing's voice next to him was warm and very proud of this place, his home.

Jazz nodded, but he couldn't help but ask as he looked over at Wing's elegant flight panels. "Yeah, but don't you miss the stars and the sky?"

"Yes," he murmured. "Most fliers do. Most make due with this airspace," he waved to the cavern over the city and the ample space to fly a few laps and stretch your wings. "Those who don't manage to sneak to the surface on occasion."

The fact that there were ways for one to sneak to the surface was a fact that Jazz noted and filed in a moment without an outward twitch. Instead he simply sighed and looked around once more before turning his attention to what was inside and in his immediate reach.

"So where do I recharge? The couch?"

"You have a room," Wing smiled and motioned for Jazz to follow. "Mine is there," he motioned to one door. "Though you're welcome to recharge with me if you like, you do have your own space," he motioned to the door across the room as he walked to it and palmed it open. "It doesn't lock, Initiates don't have that luxury, but it is your space until you don't need it anymore."

A glance told Jazz that it was a nice room, nicer than his quarters in Iacon. A simple entertainment center was on one wall, some storage compartments under it. A large window with a view of the city graced the far wall with a nice sized and plush looking berth under it. The bulk of the empty floor was covered by a soft fiber mat.

Jazz let out a low whistle, impressed as he wandered in and started poking at things. The entertainment center had a nice enough sound set up, which was something he would definitely take advantage of provided he could find some decent music around here. The storage compartments were empty, except for an extra cover for the berth.

And speaking of the berth...Jazz headed there next, poking at it with a couple of fingers before flopping gracefully on the surface and rolling so that he was looking up at the ceiling with a content sound.

"Nice." He said again. 'Thank you' almost slipped out on its heels, but no matter how much they had done for him, Jazz couldn't quite bring himself to say that yet. "I think recharging here will be real easy."

"Good," Wing's smile was easy and accepting of the absent graces. He knew this mech had a long way to go before he was fully civilized. He'd shown appreciation. It was an excellent start. "Would you like some energon in the common room before I leave you to relax for a while?"

"Energon is always good." Jazz said, rolling from the berth with the same grace. He was starting to like this new frame. It was different from his old one in many ways, and he was still testing and exploring its limits. But the old strains and aches from worn parts was gone, problems that had existed even after he had joined the Autobots. There was a smoothness to his new form that he was finding extremely pleasing.

"Energon is never in short supply," Wing smiled warmly as he turned and guided Jazz to the main door. "We generate it from magma, solar, thermal and hydro as well as several chemical reactions. Do you have a preference, or like any additives?"

"Dunno. I've never really had the chance to try anything like that." Jazz admitted. The truth was, most of the time he was just thankful to have fuel, and he had learned long ago just to hork down whatever he could find as fast as he could. That way if it tasted nasty you wouldn't have time to gag, and the faster you got it down, the less chance there was of someone trying to take it from you. Even among the Autobots, where it was supposedly rationed according to need and frame requirements there were bullies who weren't above trying to get more than their allotted share by taking what they wanted from others.

"Then we'll just have to start with one and try them all," the Knight's smile brightened at the prospect of sharing. "Do you like bitter or sweet flavors?"

"There's a difference there too?" Jazz said, searching through his memories looking for something to compare it to. He could recall one time getting ahold of some energon candies, and how much he had liked the flavor of them, so different and strong on his glossa. "Sweet, maybe?" He finally guessed.

"Then we'll start with aluminum and gold," Wing trilled eagerly as he led his charge down different hallways and lifts to one of the lower levels of the residential tower they were in. "Solar and thermal tend to be a touch sweeter than hydro, and magma is its own thing."

Jazz followed, memorizing this route as well, and the small changes in feel an emotional atmosphere as they went along. "How big is this place?" He asked as they stepped into a large common room, arranged to accommodate many different types of mecha and activities.

There were standard tables and seating which he assumed were for refueling, cozy corners for games and more intimate meetings, windows overlooking more of the city and another balcony that could handle larger groups. Extravagance to him, but from the way Wing was acting common place around here.

"There are two hundred and eighty three Knights, nineteen Initiates and twenty three dependents in the Citadel, but we designed the Citadel for a complement of six hundred and their dependents. There are about three million civilians in the city," Wing rattled off easily as he waved to a couple others, including one with a slightly lighter build of his same frametype in dark maroons and blues. "Marwir, my Daoshi. She trained me to be a Knight."

That look and shudder was enough to convince Jazz that maybe Wing had been right, and Jazz really did not want to end up at the mercy of the Knight that had trained Wing. Though the white jet did not seem broken or permanently scarred from being in her care either. It was something else to consider as he followed Wing in the direction of the energon dispensers.

"Is that the total number that escaped with you?" Jazz was trying to place when they would have left, and was reaching the conclusion that it was likely it was before he was every functioning, since he couldn't recall hearing anything of that number leaving during his time on the streets or among the Autobots, and that large of an exodus would have caused a stir at either time.

Wing shook his helm. "The city has more than tripled in size, and there are almost twice as many Knights as when they landed."

"So you have been here for a little while?" Jazz said, poking at the energon dispenser and, noting Prowl's designation when it came up and studied it curiously.

Wing nodded, waiting patiently for Jazz to finish contemplating what his friend was given as a default ration and read what his own was. "Nine thousand and sixteen vorns since landing."

"Wow." Jazz murmured, more to himself than to Wing before he stepped back from the screen and motioning Wing forward. "You were going to recommend something, I think?"

"Solar with gold," Wing grinned, his fingers expertly tapping in the order for Jazz, then a slightly different one for himself. "And a cube of solar with aluminum."

Jazz took the lead once they had their energon, choosing one of the out of the way corners with a couple of comfortable seats, one of which he thought looked as though it would accommodate Wing's frame type well.

He nudged the chair around until it was backed up against the wall and he could see everything else going on in the room. Finally settled he looked over at his guard. "So what was leaving like?"

"I don't really know," Wing said without shame as he settled and sipped his cube. "Those there said it was terrifying. The launch was early, and while the Citadel was under attack. Several Knights gave their sparks to hold the army off so everyone could evacuate. Even with that sacrifice, not all the ships escaped Cybertron's system. We lost so much, a third of the ships by the time we found this world, but we made it."

"So you weren't there?" Jazz pressed, trying to process that and working on how old Wing would be then.

The white jet shook his helm. "I was kindled well after the city was established. I'll be five thousand and sixteen vorns, in two metacycles."

That was another surprise to Jazz, and he sipped as his energon as he took the time to process that. Wing was young, even compared to himself, and Jazz wasn't that old. "Have you always been a Knight?"

"Not always, I had to grow up and train first," Wing gave him a cheeky grin. "But it's what I wanted to be as soon as I understood enough to know what it meant."

"Were your creators Knights as well?"

"Dai Atlas and Axe," Wing nodded. "I was raised in the Citadel."

Those were designations that Jazz had heard several times during his short stay in the medical berth, and now that he made connections his visor flashed in surprise. "The leader of the Knights is your creator?"

"Yes," Wing nodded. "Though I wasn't raised much differently than any other Knight's sparkling. Just slightly bigger shadows making sure I didn't get in too much trouble," his golden optics glittered with playful amusement.

"And I bet you still managed to get into a lot of trouble." Jazz responded with a small smile of his own. "I met one of your creators, when I was in the med bay. Wouldn't really tell me where I was when I asked, and mostly wanted to know how I got here. Seemed nice enough though."

"Axe is," Wing nodded easily. "Care to try the aluminum additive?" he offered his cube. "He can still be scary as the Pit when he has reason, but he's usually pretty laid back. He needs to be to keep Dai Atlas level," he almost snickered.

The cube was accepted and tasted, Jazz savoring the flavors and nodding in approval. "Interesting, though a little sweet, even for me." He said as he returned it to its owner.

"I have yet to meet something too sweet for me," Wing snickered as he took his cube back. "How's the gold?"

"That I might try again." Jazz answered as his gaze wandered over the rest of the occupants of the common room. "So what do you do when you have free time, normally? Since I assume that watching a mecha for orns on end isn't part of your normal routine?"

Wing chuckled. "I patron many of the confectionaries in the city. Having wings and a small frame makes it easy to get from one end to the other fast enough it's practical for a treat. I skydance, though not often. Mostly that's for festivals, not fun. And I spend time with my friends, in the berth and out."

Friends...that was a foreign concept for Jazz, one that he knew far more theory about than practical experience. It was hard to like and trust others when there was little about them to like and even less to trust. "Skydance? What sort of festivals?"

"All the major ones," Wing trilled, noting that his charge was starting to wind down and would want to recharge soon. "Orn of the Becoming, Honoring the Creator Spark, First Light Festival and a bunch more. We celebrate New Crystal City's founding and honor the Exodus too."

Jazz nodded and hummed softly. He remembered the celebrations for those, early in his functioning. They had been something of highlights for him, when he had eaten better and mecha had been more charitable. He finished off the energon, looking at the empty cube a little distantly.

"You can have more if your tanks aren't full," Wing offered softly. "Or we can go back to our quarters so you can relax for a while."

"I'm full." Jazz responded, vanishing the cube. In truth, his tanks were fuller than he could remember them being before he had come here. "Recharge sounds good."

Wing smiled warmly and stood, offering a friendly hand to the grounder as he subspaced his half-finished cube. "Then you can recharge in your berth. When you're feeling up to it, we can visit a detailing shop and you can have some color added to your finish."

"Really?" The blue visor lit at that, Jazz's processor springing to life again at the prospect. This...could be fun. To be able to choose his own detail, even if he hadn't been able to have much say in his frame form.

"Yes, really," Wing smiled warmly and led him from the room.