"Identity 82724 to the Med Station immediately," A Decepticon's voice hissed over the speakers. "Repeat: Identity 82724 to the Med Station immediately."

Spark looked to the ceiling. She'd just gotten through the hysteria of the Line, gone through her shift, gotten to her quarters, and was about to go to sleep when that voice came crackling through the intercom. She scowled, muttering something about scrap metal as she pulled on her work clothes. This was getting ridiculous. She ran her finger down the bruise on her face, which was now showing up rather nicely. Hadn't they already taken all the answers they wanted from her?

She navigated her way through the hallways, where identical doors stood on both sides. The slave's quarters. A lot easier to get through when there was no one around; not like in the mornings, when everyone was trying to get to the cafeteria, get to their jobs. She made it to the cafeteria, then up to the airlock, turning right. The Med Station was very close to the Line and, like everything, could be moved to another location in half a day once work on this section had been finished.

Spark knocked twice; it rang hollowly against the metal. She flicked out her hand, shaking the pain out of her knuckles. Why did everything in this place have to be metal?

"Enter," came the serpentine response; Spark smiled. Starscream. She should have known.

The door opened; no human could push that thing open by themselves, so most doors were set to automatic. Spark entered, keeping her head up high as she did so.

Of course, there was the fact that this was a Med Station. And what did you have in Med Stations? Medics. Spark shivered; there were those little, scuttling insect medics, with their overly small eyes and overly large glasses; not the most pleasant sight on the best of the days, but at least you could squish these.

And then there were the others; the ones as tall as any other Transformer, Autobot and Decepticon alike. The ones that towered over you, that made those little minute changes to you with those enormous hands, so tall and unstoppable… she shuddered and moved on. She hated medics; hated them with every fiber of her being.

That was why Starscream had brought her here in the first place, she suspected. He knew about her fears; he knew most everything about her. Everything that Sentinel knew. He was, after all, second-in-command; but that didn't help Spark trust him. He was a snake at heart, a snake in metal skin. And everything he knew about her was only to be used against her later; after all, he'd made his dislike of her very plain. She saw him sitting in a large, black metal seat among the medics, across from a desk.

Starscream placed a hand on the ground; the gesture had long ago become an unspoken order to humans. She stepped on, and he lifted her up onto the desk, setting her down there. She jumped off quickly; Spark had her own ways of making the trip there, but in the end, this was easier.

"I wanted to make this meeting as discreet as possible," Starscream said, waving the medics away with an airy hand. Spark wanted to roll her eyes; discreet from who? The Decepticons were as abuzz with the news as the humans were.

"I'm sure," She answered coolly.

He gave her his best reptilian smile, then moved on as though she hadn't spoken. "Sentinel believes that you will not tell the humans about this message. He also believes that, if you did, the humans would mostly ignore it." He turned away, his sharp fingertips sliding across each other with the familiar rasp of metal-on-metal. "That such 'politics' would not 'apply to them,' in his words." His red eyes slid back to watch her. "But we know better, don't we?"

Spark pressed her own fingertips together, the skin yielding slightly to the pressure. "I don't see why he wouldn't think this applies to them," She said, her toe tapping a quiet rhythm on the desk.

"You know Sentinel," Starscream answered breezily. "He doesn't pay attention to the… little people."

Spark smirked. She had to admit, as much as Starscream was a worm, at least she knew that he was trying to manipulate her at all times. It was almost amusing to watch; until it wasn't. "What do you want, Scream?"

He eyed her carefully. "Nothing you won't be adverse to giving me; a bit of information." He turned to her, looking her in the eye. "What do the humans plan to do? Whose side do they fight for? Do they fight for any?"

Spark quirked an eyebrow. Well, here was as good a time as any to ask about that trip to Earth; but she didn't like the thought of asking Starscream first. He would undoubtedly use it to his advantage, only telling Sentinel of their plans when it suited him. She turned away from him, trying to make herself look more disinterested than avoidant.

"They fight for their own side," She answered cryptically. "As for what that means to your kind… I can't say at this time." She walked casually to the side, pacing slowly. "Soon. I believe you will have your answer soon."

Starscream studied her; he knew there was more to it than that. But he made no further comment on the matter, leaning back in his seat, watching her intently. Spark tried to look guiltless, to the point where she looked him in the eye and jutted her chin out arrogantly. "Is that all?" She asked, acid layering each word.

Starscream half-smiled in return. "Actually," He said slowly, calculatingly, "I would like to make an… observation." His metal fingers clinked together musically as they closed into a loose fist on the desk. He leaned a little closer to her, red eyes alight. Spark stared him down; most humans would be intimidated by the sight of a Decepticon looming over them like that. Most humans.

"Make it," She said flippantly, shrugging as though it couldn't possibly matter less. She always played this game with him, manipulation upon manipulation, deception upon deception, each of them giving away only what they wanted to and no more, and striving so hard to get what they wanted in return.

"When I spoke of the humans… When you spoke of them… you continually referred to them as 'they'. Not 'we' or 'us'. You still aren't including yourself among them." He leaned even closer; so close she could smell his oily, thick breath.

Spark cursed inwardly. Yep, there was no good way out of this one. She took only a second to consider her response-any longer and he would have thought of her as weak- then turned to him. His teeth were inches away, his squished-up face far too close for her liking. Those eyes… those red eyes… Spark found something within her wishing to counter them with a flash of blue from her own. But that was a part of herself that she hated; she quelled the feelings and stared back at him with her own amber, counting on her hatred to send them alight.

"Consider the difference between us, Starscream; the humans and I." She raised both of her eyebrows, refusing to back down. "I think it's safe to say that I don't quite…" She hesitated, testing a few words in her head, while making it seem as though it was on purpose. "Belong," She concluded at last. Starscream's mouth stretched into the tiniest of smiles, and he leaned back again, his face out of hers. She was immensely grateful; not only did his breath reek, but he also had a tendency to spit when he talked, and she didn't want to be anywhere near his face when that happened.

He chuckled once. "Of course," He acknowledged, holding out a hand. Spark stepped on it reflexively and allowed him to set her back down on the ground. "You may go now, 82724."

Spark glanced around. "Come now, Scream. There's no one of interest here. You can use my real name."

Starscream, who had already been turning away from her, froze suddenly. Slowly, surely, he turned to her. His red eyes lit up. "Around them?" He inquired in a whisper so quiet that no one else could hear him. His right hand gestured vaguely to the medics in the room. Spark shivered and opened her mouth to say something else, but Starscream simply went on, "Very well."

And then he said it; her real name. Each syllable rolled off in a snake-like hiss, sending shivers down Spark's spine. She hadn't even known he knew; that he knew her true name, not her nickname, not the false name she gave to anyone who asked…

As Starscream smiled and started to lean away, Spark was grateful that he'd spoken quietly enough that none of the medics could hear; perhaps that was what kept her from killing him right here and now. Before he could recede too far, Spark's hand whipped up and caught a part of his throat; a few of the wires that attached his small head to his thick shoulders. He halted as her sharp silver nails pressed against his throat, and she yanked down hard, bringing his face back to her eye level.

She smiled benignly at him; a few of the medics stepped towards him, ready to rip Spark away from him, and he waved them away in supposed irritation; but Spark could see the fear in his eyes.

"Maybe I wasn't clear enough," She said brightly. "I apologize for the error in communication. I meant for you to use my nickname." She tilted her head to the side and brought her face closer to his, so that her lips were right next to where his ear should be.

"If you ever say that name again," She said, almost inaudibly, "I will kill you where you stand. Are we clear?"

Starscream all but spat out the word, "Perfectly."

Spark released him, keeping the happy smile on her face. "Nice talking with you," She said politely, and started out towards the door.

The entrance to Sentinel Prime's War Room (which in turn led to his quarters) was quite a thing to behold. A monstrous, towering set of metal doors, made to be impenetrable by human and Cybertronian alike. It was fairly easy to accomplish the former, but not so the latter; even Spark was impressed by the setup, and frequently wondered if she'd be able to break through it if she ever felt the need to. She wasn't sure she could, which-if she was honest- was rather unnerving.

But, for now, she decided to stick with the usual method; she stepped up to the eye reader; it was rare, but not unheard of, that a human would need to speak with Sentinel Prime, so readers had been made to accommodate them, standing at average human height (it also aided Decepticons of the same size). Typically, these humans would come to discuss repairs on Cybertron, and they would follow the same procedure as the Decepticons; their eyes would be read, and they would be asked their purpose for coming here. If it was a reasonable purpose, and if Sentinel could discuss it at the time (or one of those lower in his command) then they would be allowed through.

Spark smiled lightly to herself as she approached the large doors. When she was a child, her and some of the other kids would come here and dare each other to look into the reader. And of course, one would do so; their identity would be noted in the computer for the rest of time, a blemish on their record, but it was only a minor offense, and the Decepticons very rarely did anything against it; it was just a bunch of kids playing pranks.

When the reader would ask about the purpose for their visits, the children would answer stupid things, like, to eat salad, or to listen to some tunes with Sentinel!

Spark herself had a rather difficult time with understanding the other children's humor; though back then, she had not known why that was. She now knew that a part of her was twisted, broken up inside, so that she couldn't understand why such innocent humor was so different from the purpose she gave at the time: to stab Sentinel right in the eyes.

Of course, the other children had just looked at her like she'd lost her mind, then run away screaming when the doors opened for her. Spark had thought then and there that she'd finally crossed a line, and wished to run away with them, but where could she go? Where could she hide from such monsters, monsters who controlled everything? So she'd gone inside to see Sentinel. Gone inside to what she was sure was her inevitable destruction.

As Spark-the adult- gave her identification and allowed the reader to scan her amber eye, she snorted. Yes, she'd been destroyed that day. But not in the way she'd expected. The scanner finished its work and inquired in that annoyingly cool, polite mechanical voice, "Purpose for visit?"

Spark spoke very clearly into the open air. "I wish to speak with Sentinel Prime about the message."

There was a faint, mechanical whirring; Spark waited as her message was relayed a few times to Sentinel's underlings. She knew she had priority; Sentinel rarely refused to see her when she came, and the underlings all knew this by now. A moment later, the doors ground open, the metal sending orange sparks up into the air as they scratched along the steel ground. She went inside slowly, into the dark chasm that lay beyond. There was a moment of blackness, and then she emerged into the light again. A smaller Decepticon, taller than Spark but smaller than a majority of Cybertronians, walked up towards her. Its silver body looked almost skeletal in nature, with all of the harsh angles and lines characteristic of most Decepticons. His red eyes scanned Spark up and down.

"82724," He greeted her; it was civil enough, but she could tell that he did not want her here. "Sentinel is currently in a very important meeting. If you would like to speak with me, or to come back another time…"

Spark cut him off. "This can't wait. Besides; his generals will want to hear this, too." The Decepticon eyed her doubtfully, but she lifted an eyebrow. The underlings knew her-and her relationship with Sentinel- by now. They should know better then to try and stop her. "Have I ever been wrong before?" She asked.

He considered, then sighed. "Council room." He turned away. "You know where it is."

Spark did know. She turned to the left, went down a small hallway and went straight to the door at the end. She'd been in his council room a total of three times; twice with Sentinel alone, once with his generals and other soldiers attending. It, like the entrance to this place, was colossal, and never failed to take her breath away. Spark pushed through the doors. These ones were not so closely guarded, and meant to be somewhat easily accessible; to Decepticons, at least. Not so much to humans.

Once inside, Spark closed the doors. No one paid her much mind; no one even looked up. They were all highly involved in what was happening, wrapped up so tightly in their plans. A few smaller metal creatures scuttled around the ground, a few walking around to fetch new materials as others needed them, some giving advice here and there. They sat hunched over a holo-table, with bright holograms of a few planets hanging in the sky; Mars, Earth, and Cybertron being the main focus. Mars, after all, was where the Autobots made their current home base. The problem was, their force field was impenetrable, and no one knew how great their numbers were.

There were many large Decepticons in the room; some so large that their heads brushed against the enormous ceiling. Sentinel stood at the front of the table, Starscream at his side; the little snake hissed advice into his ear from time to time, but rarely spoke aloud.

Spark watched silently for a while, wondering if anyone would notice her, or if she'd have to make her entrance a bit more dramatic. She hoped it was the latter.

"If the Autobots attack now, we may lose more of Earth," one of the Decepticons spoke in a silky, dark voice. He was speaking Cybertronian, but Spark, like most every one of the slaves, had learned it as a second language fairly quickly. "If we lose Earth, we will lose the humans. They're barely listening to us as it is."

Ok, that wasn't true. But Spark let him put his foot in his mouth a little more; she'd show him how stupid it was to think like that later. She slouched against the door, arms folded, watching the mayhem unfold with calculating eyes.

"Shockwave?" Sentinel looked to the one-eyed Decepticon for confirmation; or for details. Shockwave shifted on his thick tentacles slowly. Dust and ash scattered the metal floor where he moved. He'd been to Earth; and recently.

"Earth can spare no losses," he answered the Prime in a broken, whispery voice. Sentinel nodded solemnly; the outcome certainly looked grim. Spark watched them all.

"Suggestions?" Sentinel inquired of the table.

"I say we attack Mars," One of the Decepticons answered immediately. Her eyes gleamed with bloodlust. "What do we have to lose from a frontal attack?" Spark rolled her eyes. Amateurs.

"No. We should fortify our defenses," Someone else suggested. Ugh, it was nauseating how Decepticons couldn't agree on anything.

"I say we keep a closer eye on the humans; we don't know if they're going to suddenly decide to join the Autobots in this fight." It was that same stupid Decepticon again, further shoving his metal foot into his mouth.

"The humans can't do anything to help or harm our cause," Someone else interjected abruptly.

"You'd be surprised," Starscream muttered, rubbing his throat. Spark grinned, unable to help herself.

That decided it; she stepped forwards. "Or you could ask me," She announced, very clearly. All eyes turned to her immediately, Sentinel's included. It had the reaction she'd been expecting, and hoping for; all at once, a few of the smaller Decepticons pinned her arms behind her back, and the larger ones aimed enormous cannons at her head. Spark just smiled up at them all, amused.

"Hold your fire!" Sentinel barked, holding up a hand. Immediately, everyone froze. "Release her," he ordered of the Decepticons holding her; their grip slackened, and she slipped through.

She gave him a low, sweeping bow. "Much obliged," She said mockingly.

"82724," Sentinel started sternly, "What are you doing here?"

She smiled at him blissfully. "Doing what I'm best at; solving every single one of your problems." She gauged the distance between herself and the holo-table, then quickly planned a course to get herself atop it. With careful moves, she hopped to the table leg, up to a Decepticon's leg; he backed away quickly, but Spark was already jumping to the next Decepticon, one after another, higher and higher, until she was at the table's height; she leapt onto it and landed with perfect grace. The Decepticons looked at her warily, but Spark and Sentinel both ignored their discontented mutters.

"Continue," Sentinel said calculatingly, peering at her over his folded hands.

"It's simple, really," Spark said, pacing around the table with light, skipping steps. "You want the Autobots gone. We-the human race- want the Autobots gone." She shot a meaningful look to Starscream as she said 'we'. "It only seems right that we should work together on this."

A Decepticon snorted aloud; Spark's gaze slid sideways to him. "Humanity cannot help us. Humanity could not even help itself."

Spark shot him a look. "Really?" She asked. "Well, then. I guess I won't help. Sorry I intruded on your precious time. It just seemed to me like you could have used all the help you could get, but oh, no it's ok, I understand." She started towards the end of the table closest to the door.

"Spark…" Sentinel said in a low, warning voice. She froze, a slow, vicious smile spreading across her face. Sentinel sighed wearily. "I'm listening."

Spark gave him her best, biggest, toothiest grin, whirling around on her heel and walking up with light steps. "Oh, wonderful. I'd hoped you would." She leaned casually on the protesting Decepticon's arm; he tried to remove it, but Spark flashed her grin up to him and, for some reason, he didn't dare to. She turned her focus back to Sentinel.

"The plan's quite simple, really," Spark said chirpily. "Humanity wants the Autobots out of the way. They're like bad house guests: big, annoying, constantly talking politics and always leaving a mess behind." She waved a hand about, as though shooing a fly. "So here's the deal. We want to send a message. The clearest message we can; untouched by Decepticon hands. Something that will leave them with no doubt that humanity wants them to leave us alone, that we do not wish to be freed, and that they can have their precious peace if –and only if- they stop this constant war.

"But the only way to send that kind of message would be through a communications relay built by human hands alone. But that would take way too long. So here's what we're thinking; you send one of us-just one!- down to Earth. I don't care how many guards you have to send with them; we're cooperating pretty well with you, if you haven't noticed. That person finds some old Autobot tech from there. We send a message and, badda bing, badda boom! Problem solved! Autobots go bye bye, and we all live in peace and frickin harmony for the rest of our lives!" She threw up her hands in a big finish, then dropped them to her sides, still grinning like a loon.

There was silence for a very, very long time. "And if they do not listen?" Starscream asked, in his hissing, spitting voice.

Spark's eyebrows rose. "Well, I should've thought that was obvious." She slouched, folding her arms across her chest, shifting her weight to her right foot as she stood in front of Sentinel. "If the Autobots will not listen, then the humans will take a side." Her amber eyes grew dark. "Yours."

Another ringing silence. Finally, a Decepticon leaned its big, ugly face closer to Spark's. "And why should we trust any human to go back to Earth? Why should we trust any human to be around Autobot technology? Why should we trust that they won't run away, or that they won't signal to the Autobots what our weak points are?"

Spark's eyes had closed in the Decepticon's rant, and as she heard the others muttering their agreement, another smile-crueler and darker than before- took over her features. "Why?" She asked at last, her eyes flicking open. She turned around and started to walk with careful, measured steps across the table, closer to the door.

"It's a good question," She said after a moment, pretending to puzzle it out, keeping her back to that Decepticon and the others. "A perfectly valid question, too. Why should you trust a human? Why should you trust someone who only claims to want the Autobots gone?" She reached the edge of the table and stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels for a second, slowly.

"So why send a human?" She asked after a moment. She looked at her hands, picking at the skin around her silver nails. Every movement was calculated, planned to perfection. Leave them guessing. Leave them questioning. "Why send a simple, ordinary, untrustworthy, weak, pathetic human? Why not send someone who you know hates the Autobots: whose hatred parallels and quite possibly surpasses your own? Why not send someone who has more reason to hate the Autobots than even you?" She dropped her hands down in front of her, allowing her silver nails to lengthen, dropping her disguise. "Why not send someone…" Silver spines slowly started to slide out of her back, along her backbone, thick and sharp. Her skin slowly gained a metallic sheen; she heard the Decepticon's worried murmuring, and hid a smile as blue began to glow out of her amber eyes.

She whirled to them all; again, she got the exact reaction she wanted. She smiled with all of her metal teeth.

"Who's been changed?" She concluded, holding up her hands. Her silver, pointed fingernails-which looked like blades in and of themselves- clinked together, each about a foot in length.

The Decepticons all stared in horror. Surely they had heard the legends. Surely they had listened to the whispers and rumors of creatures such as her. A few visibly backed away from her, and one almost fell to the ground in his rush to get away. But, amidst all of the fear and chaos her sudden reveal had generated, Sentinel watched, looking rather bored.

"Always with the theatrics," he sighed heavily, a tired sound. Spark shrugged, a what-can-you-do gesture. Sentinel leaned his head to the side, resting it in his fingers; his index tapped lightly against his temple. "Very well, 82724. You may go to Earth."

Spark lifted one eyebrow, giving Starscream a vaguely smug look. The second-in-command scowled at her; not particularly afraid, but certainly keeping his distance. "Thanking you kindly," Spark said, giving a low, swooping bow as her nails and spines receded, and she began to look human once more.

She turned and winked at the other Decepticons, then leapt off the table, whistling as she walked away.