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[He doesn't remember having been put in a stasis pod. The last pod he'd been in had been the result of nearly being deactivated by Turmoil, and that isn't a memory he wants to dwell overmuch on.]

[There's something all too familiar about this situation, especially since it seems all too strange at the same time. Even moreso when he manages to make it outside the ship and spots the bombed out city.]

[This is the face of weary disappointment. It might not be very obvious, since 1) it's a robotic face, and 2) it's a stoic robotic face, but Perceptor does sigh.]

So. Where have I ended up now? Clearly not Cybertron.

[Curiously, he seems to understand exactly what the communicator system is about. He looks resigned.]

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[The Autobots do not have clean hands in this, Perceptor. Who sided with Zeta Prime as he was killing mechs in Nyon?]

Actions only speak to part of it, Perceptor. There's always intent. Right but for the wrong reasons can be just as dangerous as wrong.

[Wing nods, turning his back to the other, bowing his head down to clear the view.] The others have gotten them off, but they appear to need several to accomplish it.

I...made a mistake and this is their punishment.

[No one has clean hands. Not even the Knights. For all that the Knights managed to save, how many were left behind and lost? Or nearly lost.]

Wrong, but with the right intent can be likewise. [But Perceptor nods in agreement.]

What mistake? Ah, your Greatsword, please. [He'd finally gotten used to thinking of it was Wing's sword, and not Drift's. That reminds Perceptor...]

You did not say when you were from.

[But that's his point: the Circle's intentions were good. Neither of the factions' were. The Circle of Light seeks to save, while both Autobots and Decepticons want to destroy.]

Indeed. But results cannot be controlled--intent can. Thus it's the only thing worthy to be judged.

Mistake. I was trying to defend the ship, and they saw what I could do.

[Some of it. Not all. He's grateful for that.]

[He shrugs, sheepishly, reaching gently behind to draw the large sword. His hands close over it reverently. It was his only tie to home. ]

Crystal City. We are...safe there.

[Things change. Intents change. There is more to what Cybertron had been and has become than what the Circle knew when it fled.]

What could you do that they found so threatening? [Perceptor needs to know just how much of himself he needs to hide, now.] Flight? Martial abilities?

[Perceptor could have removed the sword himself and handed it to Wing, but that would have been disrespectful. The Wing he knew had spoken at length with him about a great many things. Philosophy, history, the Circle of Light... so Perceptor has an inkling what the Sword means.]

Yes. Do you know of one called Drift? [That will place Wing more exactly for Perceptor. And, with luck, offer the connection he misses?]

[The collar's functions are rather straightforward, and Perceptor feels his anger flaring again. Wing, wing-clipped. How. Dare. They. There's a flurry of small clicks and whirs as he deploys the microtools from his fingertips to examine it in detail.]

They are humans here, Perceptor. Defending the ship, I was deemed threatening. My size, my abilities. [The fact he sliced off a stabilizer with stunning accuracy, etc.]

Drift. [The words, the name, gives him pause, and Perceptor might feel a tremor of recognition which would have given Wing away even if he had tried to lie.] Yes. He...was my friend. [He thought. But he'd thought Drift wouldn't have betrayed them, either.]

I--if it's not too much trouble, could you examine the flight systems as well? A human repaired them, but... [He trails off. Nothing against Narvin's abilities but another Cybertronian would know the systems better.]

Ah. So, everything about us will frighten them. Have you transformed?

[Once he gets this collar off of Wing, he must find some means to neutralize them, because it seems likely that Wing may end up collared again, and that Perceptor will end up collared, as well. It's frustrating, though; it looks as if he will require more assistance to remove it safely.]

[Perceptor huffs a thin little sigh, born of equal parts relief and disappointment. Wing knows Drift, and so there will be much that Perceptor can tell Wing. Unfortunately, one of those things that he could tell Wing is about his own impending death.]

Was? [Unless, of course, this Wing comes from a completely different reality altogether.]

Of course. No trouble at all, Wing. I am an engineer, among other things. I was a scientist, once. Do you have other friends here? I may require assistance in removing this... collar.

It appears so, yes. I've done my beset to convince them I am harmless but... [He shows his palms in defeat. Some seemed impossible to convince. Even among their allies.]

Was. I do not know what became of him, after.... [His voice chokes a little bit on the last word.] After I died.

I have...perhaps not 'friends'. But there are others who have assisted me. Or who may see it as their best interest to have me operational. [Which is a sad thing he would settle for.]

[Perceptor nods.] I have interacted with humans; they are a young and volatile species. Quite reactionary, and easily triggered. [His hands pause, just for a moment, as he considered Verity.] But fiercely loyal, one their friendship is given.

[And his hands pause again.] Ah. I was not certain if you knew of that yet. [So much for the nascent hope that Wing might be spared that.]

He prospers. He will be given your Sword when he leaves New Crystal City, and he will travel the systems seeking to end injustice and help those in need. I think you would be proud of what he becomes from the gifts you gave him.

[His voice drops to a quiet murmur.] I would not live, if it were not for him.

[Back to normal volume now, as he heaves a sigh and steps back.] Can you call them? Two, I think. [He frowns, jaw clenched with distaste.] I will need their help for this.

They seem nice: knowing what the war has done across their galaxy, I cannot blame their hesitation to trust us. One named Kirk has explained that they often don't have fond memories of our kind.

[He gives a soft sound, his hands brushing his chassis.] Yes. I know. I remember. [He has mixed feelings: his wing panels rustle. Drift lived, free.] He is, then, free of the war. [He hopes.]

[Wing half-turns, as if seeing Perceptor right now was important, with this new knowledge. He had saved Drift. Drift had saved another. Like a link that bound them.]

I will ask who might help.

They were unaware of the existence of other life before our arrival on their world. They are young, yet.

[Perceptor can't say that he blames the humans for being wary, though. They are very fragile compared to the average Cybertronian, their world, just as much. And the war... regardless of how it had begun, it had become something very different. It had become destruction writ large across the galaxy. He isn't certain what he feels about any of it any longer. Not since Kaon. Since seeing hints of how it had all begun. Of his part, all unwitting, in its genesis.]

Hindsight.

[He sighs and shakes his head, as he reaches out to grasp Wing's arm, a gesture meant to comfort, perhaps.]

Do not be angry with him, Wing. The war you left behind has evolved into another monster entirely. Drift chooses to do what he can to end the war.

[Perceptor waits calmly, though there's a certain hesitation in his expression. He wonders if Wing is disappointed in what he sees. Drift is the link that connects them, yes, but it is still a link forged in the war, tempered by it. Nurtured by it.]

[At least until Drift had left Perceptor behind.]

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