Siren hadn’t had the greatest time aboard the Lost Light.
He’d known that, but the whole crew reflecting on their own experiences as they spent the final day together brought it to the forefront. Still, he tried to stay positive.
“It all happened so fast. I feel like I barely just got settled,” Nightbeat remarked in response to Inferno’s curiosity. The three of them had been chatting about their own experiences for dozens of minutes, but Nightbeat hadn’t cared to share his until prompted.
Inferno leaned against the hallway wall where they’d happened to gather. “Lucky.”
Siren loved Inferno, but man was he jaded. Nightbeat at least tried to find some sort of whimsy in the whirlwind of events he’d been part of. He was always thoughtful like that.
That reminded him of a favor he’d promised to help Nightbeat with—and, in that instant and intuitive way of his, Nightbeat realized instantly what Siren was thinking of, and that they were running out of time to get it done.
“Well, it’s been real!” Siren offered up his fist to be bumped. Inferno responded accordingly. Some farewells had been more dramatic, but like most people in their field, they’d hovered around each other the bulk of their lives—it wasn’t a question of if they’d ever see each other again, just when and where.
The two were off to tackle their chore: packing. Just in case of unexpected mystery, Nightbeat had waited until the last moment to box up his many, many things. So many that a quick assessment made them realize they needed even more hands. Siren called Hosehead for help, and Nightbeat recruited Nautica. It was a very methodical frenzy, but with Nightbeat’s incredibly particular direction and everyone else’s compliance, it was a breeze.
Siren placed nearly the last of Nightbeat’s possessions in a box and snapped the lid on with a click. “And that’s that! Who’s thirsty? I think it’s time to say bye to Swerve’s. And, uh, Swerve.”
Nightbeat, Nautica, and Hosehead all raised their hands in agreement.
Siren singled Nightbeat out. “I thought you hated the bar.”
“Correct.”
“Then don’t raise your hand!”
“It’s a special occasion.”
Siren considered pushing, but why do that when Nightbeat was giving him exactly what he wanted? “…Right. I guess it’s unanimous, then!”
Nightbeat pocketed the one thing that hadn’t been packed, as per his instructions: an old magnifying glass (again, just in case of unexpected mystery…even if, as the clock ticked, it seemed increasingly unlikely that anything noteworthy would occur). It took the entire walk there for Siren to be able to recite Nautica and Nightbeat’s complicated orders—Hosehead, on the other hand, didn’t need to even mention what he wanted, since Siren had ordered for him so many times before.
Once they arrived, Siren took care of ordering while the others secured a booth. It was the same conversation he and Bluestreak had had a trillion times, and would probably have a trillion more: “So what’ve you been watching?” (Bluestreak responds with the show of the month.) “Oh. Is it good?” (Bluestreak’s ambiguous response.) “Oh, hm. Maybe I’ll check it out!” (He rarely ever did, but he never stopped asking.)
“You know I hate telling you to leave, but people are trying to get up here.” Bluestreak slid Siren’s completed tray across the counter. Siren moved to leave but paused once he saw who it was who was trying to snag a seat: Megatron.
“Hey, uh,” Siren stammered. “Captain. I just wanna say I’m sorry. About—you know.”
Megatron looked at him, amused. “It’s in the past.”
“But still!”
“You know, Siren, there’s an old Decepticon adage that power can’t be given, only taken by force. Between you and me… I still think there’s truth to that.”
Siren tried to stay composed but cracked a smile anyway. “That reminds me of something Optimus said that you said—‘who gave you power, in whose interests do you exercise it, and how can we get rid of you?’”
Megatron smiled, too. Siren contained his shock—in that instant, he realized he had thought his face couldn’t go in that direction. “Yes, that’s how it went.”
“Well, all we did is ask those questions, is what I’m saying.”
“Siren. I’ve said what I think.”
It was a reasonable response, but it felt like a judge swinging their hammer. The echo rang in Siren’s head. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere else, gave his best awkward smile, and shuffled off to where he belonged.
“Some last day,” Nightbeat said as he seated himself. Small talk wasn’t his forte, but he knew an attempt should be made. “It’s already half over, and nothing’s happened.”
“Eh, I like the peace,” Hosehead said. “Every other day on this ship was too exciting.”
Nautica tapped her chin. It looked so… performative. She purported to not be like all the actors from her homeworld, but their influence on her was obvious. “Am I allowed to somehow agree with both of you…?”
“So, um…” Hosehead muttered. “Do you need help packing, Nautica?”
“Oh, if you’d asked yesterday…”
“Right. So, then, uh… honestly, I just really love helping people move. You’re both totally set? Nothing too hard to transport? Like, I have to wait for the very last second to get my aquarium out of there.”
“Oh! I do have two darling little fish.”
“Oh yeah?” Hosehead’s visor grew a fraction of a lumen brighter. “What kind are they?”
“They’re automatons from this artificial garden moon on the galactic outskirt—it’s sketchy, but they’re by one of my favorite designers, I just had to get my hands on them. They’re a shade of orange that you just don’t ever see in nature. And… yours are…?”
“Uh. Organic? I don’t remember exactly, it says on the care sheet. I just thought they were cool.”
“Ah.”
A collective pause. Unlike Hosehead, Nightbeat didn't mask all the awkward silence with unrealistically long sips from his drink. Sure, he could join in again and spare them from each other, but he preferred to see how this interaction played out without intervention.
“So. Um.” Nautica entwined her fingers. “I’ve read a bit about what it’s like to be a firefighter... but what do you do when you’re not working?”
“I guess… watching my fish? I dunno, I’m usually pretty beat…”
“Don’t say that like it’s boring!” Nautica gave him a small push. “That’s a tried and true technique for reaching a transcendental state! Monks from all corners of the universe have similar practices for that very reason. I was just reading a travelogue about a society a galaxy over—they carve out these stunning underground tunnels to create deep-sea viewpoints—they’re marvels of engineering, and the atmosphere is like nothing else. Reportedly.”
“...Right.”
Okay, this was starting to hurt to listen to, as was eavesdropping on Siren’s attempt at an exchange with Megatron. Nightbeat began to toy with his magnifying glass, looking for an opening to change the subject but stopped when Siren thankfully reappeared and slammed down an extremely distracting tray.
“Boom! Whatchya guys talkin’ about?”
Nightbeat still couldn’t quite place what it was about Siren that was an instant mood-lifter.
“Packing,” Hosehead said, hoping his friend would realize how unpleasant it had been without him there.
“Ah!” Siren froze, blinded by responsibility. “Crap! The office! All my crap in the office!”
“Relax!” Hosehead insisted. “We’ve still got a few hours…”
“Hours! Wow, that’s still so weird to think about. It feels like it’s been eons but I’ve had temp jobs longer than this.” Siren put his arm around Nightbeat’s shoulder as he sat back down. Nightbeat still craned his arm up to take a sip, even if it made him harder to hold onto.
“I’m really.. really glad it’s done with,” Hosehead said.
Nightbeat half-agreed. “There were definitely some good moments.”
“Some really good moments!” Nautica fully agreed with Nightbeat’s half-agreement.
Siren looked at her, then Nightbeat, then back to her, then back to him, unsure of the conclusion he had jumped to. Nightbeat was positive he could see what he noted himself—the slight bluish tint on Nautica’s upper faceplate, his own near-invisible smirk. It took about six takes and what looked like counting on his fingers before Siren spoke up. “Wait, did you two get MARRIED?!”
Hosehead, startled, knocked over his (thankfully empty) cup.
“There it is,” Nightbeat nodded in approval.
Nautica cracked up. It took her a moment to regain her composure. “Hah! Yes, we did!”
“When we realized we both forgot to tell you we decided to just wait and see how long it’d take you to figure it out.”
“Well, how’d I do?”
“Less than two weeks. Not bad at all.”
“Wow. Wow! That’s great, guys. I’m really happy for you!”
He meant it. Still, his expression had a less than enthusiastic undercurrent. Nightbeat knew jealousy—however irrational—when he saw it. “I’d say I’m sorry for not inviting you to the ceremony, but it was barely even a ceremony. Desperate times. You know how it is.”
Add an under-the-table hand-on-thigh, and all was well, for now, at least. Nightbeat gestured to remind Siren that he had a drink to tend to, which served as an excellent distraction.
“We can still have a nice big party!” Nautica reminded him. “Course, I’ll have to ask Stormy and Lotty what they have in mind…”
“Wait, there’s four of you?”
“Um, four of us… left, yes.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, no!”
Okay, now Nightbeat felt compelled to intervene. “It’s not omnidirectional, Siren. Let the record show that I absolutely did not marry Brainstorm. Anyways, Nautica, I’m not opposed to a party but first I want a decent funeral—or, rather, memorial—please don’t put my body to rest, I’m still using it. I’d really prefer those go in chronological order of what events they’re in response to.”
Nautica looked severely disappointed in herself. How had she made a game of someone not realizing something when she hadn’t even considered what had—or rather hadn’t—happened to Nightbeat? “Oh, I didn’t even—“
Nightbeat put up a hand to halt her. If it were as big a deal as her reaction made it seem, he would have brought it up before.
Siren bounced his leg—it was so difficult to tell whether he was thinking hard or hardly thinking when he did that.
It had been a while since Hosehead had said anything, Nightbeat noticed. “What are you going to be up to next? We can put you in the party plan somewhere.”
“Oh, uh, that would be nice, but I haven’t decided yet. I just need to focus on getting myself a new place and then I think I’ll find somewhere near it to make myself useful… then I’ll be ready to plan stuff.”
“…Actually… I should really, really go pack.” Siren said, suddenly present again. “It’s seriously the last thing I need to do.”
Nightbeat glanced at him. He couldn’t place why, but there was something unusual about his delivery. “You sure?”
“You guys don’t mind, right? I’ll be fast! Oh—and, Nautica—it’s mostly a bunch of books I don’t wanna keep.”
Nautica made a gleeful squeal and excused herself from the table in unison with him.
Nightbeat rose, too, grabbing his magnifying glass. “Well, why don’t we all go? Since we’re pretty much done here.”
“No!” Siren shrieked.
Now that was suspicious.
“Uh—okay, listen…” Siren stalled, measuring out exactly what he was about to say. “I know it's no use trying to totally blindside you, so: I’m gonna make today more interesting, okay? But that’s the only clue you’re getting.”
Nightbeat’s face lit up. “The only one you’re consciously giving me…”
“Primus, you’re scary! I’ve gotta get out of here this second if I’m gonna have any chance of surprising you. Seeya!”
“Yeah. Seeya.” Nightbeat sat back down and watched as Siren and Nautica walked away. He was aware that, now, alone at the table with Hosehead, he should either engage with him, but he… couldn’t. What was it that Siren was planning? What did he need Nautica for? There was a great deal she was capable of, narrowing it down would be a daunting task. And Siren hadn’t exhibited behavior anything like that until he’d brought the drinks back. Nightbeat replayed the conversation in his mind and tapped his magnifying glass against his temple.
Hosehead, looking to fill the contemplative silence, pointed to Nightbeat’s magnifying glass. “Jeez, that thing is ancient. You ever think about getting a new one?”
“Sure, but it has sentimental value… and I’m broke.”
“Well, hey. Hoist’s workshop is still open and I know a thing or two about glass blowing…”
“We’ve been instructed to stay put.”
“I thought your whole thing was doing whatever you want? As long as we avoid them it’ll be fine, right?”
“…Well, I can’t say no to a stealth mission.”
Progress was swift. The office was close to being devoid of anything but the equipment it came stocked with.
Most of it went to Siren’s subspace storage, but the books were all gathered in a pile on the floor, waiting to be stacked on a cart and added to Nautica’s extensive collection. She stood there, astounded at just how many volumes Siren had accrued over the years, and how he didn’t find any of them worth holding on to.
“Hellooo? Nautica?” Siren waved. “You short-circuiting or something?”
“No, yes, it’s just…” She shook her head. “Well, you’ve seen my room. It was a lot like this, but maybe you noticed, they didn’t generally have the names etched into the sides, since each datapad holds countless volumes. But these are all—one book, one device!” She picked one up and shook it as if that would somehow reveal its emptiness.
Siren realized then that her room which rivaled literal libraries was even more jam-packed with content than he initially thought. It made Nightbeat’s detecting collection look downright reasonable.
“Of course I’ve seen a Cybertronian book before, but actually seeing how quickly they add up—It’s fascinating.”
Siren looked at her, then at the pile, then back at her. “Is it?”
“Sure! It speaks to your war-informed sensibilities.” Once he began stacking them on the cart, she helped. “At first it seems uneconomical to use so much material to house a single volume, but spreading them out increases their likelihood of surviving an attack—or a hacking. I read that most Autobot intelligence is kept on offline, on external storage.”
“Yep, exactly. ‘S why we had so many scouts running back and forth. Even I’d do deliveries sometimes!”
“And, well, you did end up winning, so maybe there’s something to that.”
“Y’know, Nautica, that’s what I like about you—you can see what’s interesting in things I’ve never thought twice about.”
Nautica donned a pure and simple smile.
“So. You for sure want all these?”
“Of course!” She paused to activate one of them, its animated attract screen depicting a scene so graphic it was hard to believe it was right there on the cover. “Though my interest in these is… purely academic.” She coughed. “I suppose we’re done here, and that you’ll be busy with your secret plan now… what is it, anyway?”
“Are you kidding? Nautica, half the reason I brought you here is cause I was hoping you could help. Are you in?”
“I’ve always wanted to be ‘in’ on something!”
“Perfect! I’ll explain everything on the way.”
“On the way where?”
“Wherever Rodimus is.”
Getting to Hoist’s workshop was disappointingly easy due to its being in the opposite direction of where the other two were heading. Not getting caught on a stealth mission was usually a good thing, but now, to Nightbeat, it was just one more of the many things that had failed to satiate his need for excitement on what he had been lead to believe would be an exciting day—but he couldn’t be too disappointed when Siren had given him something to chew on.
Hoist and Grapple had prepared nearly the entire workshop’s inventory for an orbital jump to a pre-arranged storage unit, save for the things Hosehead and Nightbeat had on the last operating worktable. They had since headed off on the condition that their guests take care of what remained. Nightbeat noted to himself that they considered Hosehead trustworthy: not surprising, but still, it was the sort of interpersonal factoid he collected religiously.
Hosehead toiled away over the craft. Nightbeat hadn’t been paying attention at all. Too busy trying to narrow down what Siren and Nautica were doing elsewhere. Worse yet, he tried his usual, cool-headed, methodical process, but the fact that whatever it would turn out to be was something the two of them were doing for him proved extremely distracting—he was getting lost in the layers of misplaced focus.
He exhaled. There must have been a reason he asked for Nautica’s company specifically—Hosehead had been right there, too, after all. The two couldn’t possibly be more dissimilar, but what stood out to Nightbeat the most was that Nautica knew him… his preferences and peculiarities, what sort of surprises he liked versus disliked. A conceited guess? Maybe. Siren hadn’t actually indicated that anything about it other than the delight of wondering was meant for Nightbeat… but he had his suspicions.
Eventually, he realized Hosehead was near completion and his attention shifted ever-so-slightly. The worktable was a mess. The amount of excess this one little project had created bothered Nightbeat, but it was getting results. He watched as Hosehead quality-checked his creation.
“Here ya go.” Hosehead presented Nightbeat with a just-cooled magnifying glass.
“Nice work! It only took you ten tries.”
Hosehead took the line of failed attempts and swept them into the recycling. “Wanna say that again?”
“...Yes. Thank you, Hosehead, genuinely. It may not be today’s model but you managed to replicate it perfectly, and, to be honest, I had doubts that you'd be able to pull this off on a technical level.” Nightbeat said as he held the newly-minted one against the old for comparison. “This will do well to tide me over until the fancy one I’ve got my eye on goes on sale.”
“Much better. Happy to help.”
Nightbeat moved to toss the old one away with the others, but Hosehead managed to grab it before it fell in.
“Whoa whoa whoa! I thought you said this had sentimental value?”
“That was a half-baked excuse for why I’ve been holding on to a piece of junk.”
“Well, I think you should hold onto it anyway. It’s irreplaceable. Doesn’t it remind you of when you first became a detective… or… something?”
Nightbeat turned the glass over, able to recall how every imperfection on it had come to be. His status as a detective had always seemed like an inherint aspect his being, but Hosehead had a point: there was a (very brief) window of time when he hadn’t described himself as such, and picking up this object for the first time related to that changing.
“It might make a really good gift, I don’t know!”
Nightbeat turned it over again. He certainly wouldn’t be too thrilled about receiving one man’s trash, but he knew someone that might.
As he held it, the sentiment grew on him. Here, in his hands, was all he really needed to achieve all he really cared about. It was precious, but now, functionally irrelevant, and gifting it would give it new life. “You’ve got a point. Would Siren like it? I know he’s not opposed to eternal commitment… but do you think—?”
Silence. Tense silence. On second thought, Nightbeat could see how that seemed to have come out of nowhere, but it was something he’d been considering for longer than he cared to admit, even just to himself.
“Oh… no idea. You’re asking completely the wrong person.” Hosehead began shuffling everything in the way Grapple and Hoist directed as a means to avoid eye contact. “Stuff like that freaks me out. We’ve never…uh, talked about anything like that. I just meant, in general, it’s good to have a gift stash.”
Oh, well. His loss. Nightbeat was just fishing for information, and he hadn’t learned anything that was enough to deter him from his objective—especially having seen how dejected Siren had looked earlier when the subject of enduraehood was brought up. Nightbeat obviously had to do what he could to remedy that, and it would take something world-shattering for him to change his mind.
Or would it even? There had been a bit of world-shattering as of late…
The bridge crew was no longer interested in their namesake location now that the Lost Light had concluded its victory lap and been planted back on Cybertron. Now, the bridge was populated by Siren and those he’d recruited to help with preparations.
It took him a moment to tear his focus away from the view through the windows—not a barren starscape, such as the few times he’d been up there, but a city with its buildings blocking the full view of itself. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to anything—everything was off. Most of all the Functionist billboards that were plastered everywhere.
He reminded himself that there would be plenty of time for exploring later and rejoined the small planning committee he had established. He meant to ask Rodimus if he needed any assistance but found himself speechless. There he was in all his glory: the bot who ostensibly had control of his life for the past few years. Siren was realizing this is the first time they’d been face-to-face since his interview. His presence was overwhelming, like flying a little too close past a hot, burning star. How could he ever have forgotten just how potent that energy was? He would follow that anywhere—in fact, he had.
“...Did you have a question?”
“Uh, yeah…” Siren shook his head profusely. Where was he? What was he doing? He saw Nautica triple-checking her measurements for where to place the centerpieces—oh, right, the bridge, the plan. “Just wondering if you need a test audience or something.”
“I’m good. I’ve gotten enough practice at this sort of thing. Just trying to scope out the best place to stand.”
“Right. Okay, great.”
“...Y’know, Siren,” Rodimus scooted two steps to the left, apparently having found the sweet spot. “Thanks for everything. For your service. I was a bit worried you wouldn’t know what you’re doing, but I took a chance cause I know what that’s like. So thanks for proving me right.”
Siren nodded an acknowledgment—he certainly wasn’t going to echo that and pretend he thought Rodimus at all did a good job with his duties, but he earnestly appreciated the sentiment. Watching Rodimus psyche himself up, Siren couldn’t help but think that any animosity he had towards him was really just externalized self-loathing. The brashness, the refusal to ever take no for an answer: it was like being bossed around by his past self.
“Anyways,” Rodimus continued, “I’ve gotta make some more calls and get everyone else where they’re supposed to be for this.”
“Yeah. Totally. And, seriously, thanks for doing this on such short notice!” Siren said and bolted down the platform’s stairs to give Nautica a hand—but he collided with a broad, impressive chest just as it peeked out from behind the wall.
“Oh my! Are you alright?”
Siren’s vision came back into focus. First, he saw Nautica suddenly by his side. He craned his neck slightly to see that it was Thunderclash he had managed to make a fool out of himself in the presence of. “Ack! Yes! I’m fine! Are you?!”
“Are you sure?” Thunderclash remained unconvinced, given that Siren was hiding his face behind his hands.
Nautica went as far as to try and pry them away, but Siren took the reigns as soon as she tried. It took a great deal of discipline to keep them at his side, though, and even more to make eye contact with Thunderclash. “Yes! Positive!”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Thunders, what are you doing wandering onto the bridge, anyway?”
“Ah! I caught word that three people I was looking for would be here.”
“Wha—us? You mean us?” Siren asked, gesturing to Rodimus behind them.”What for?”
“I’m seeking recruits.”
Just as Nightbeat was about to propose they head back to the bar now that they’d cleaned up, Hosehead’s communicator chimed with Siren’s unique ringtone. He eavesdropped, and Hosehead either didn’t notice or didn’t mind—at first. Then, he was clear across the room, speaking in a hushed tone into the device he had cranked the volume to its lowest setting.
Nightbeat listened attentively but gathered nothing. Hosehead’s scheming whispers were even quieter than his usual tone.
Hosehead stuffed his communicator away. “It’s ‘go time’. C’mon, we’re taking the freight elevator.”
Nightbeat refused to move until his request was met. “Don’t mention what I mentioned earlier, please.”
“...You’re seriously going to—?” Hosehead’s face cycled from nervous concern to tentative approval. “Okay, if you say so…”
The elevator was big enough to fit two oversized Cybertronians, but for some reason, they were right next to each other. Nightbeat wouldn’t be the one to move—the more detail he could make out of Hosehead’s stuffy body language, the better.
Environment was crucial, too, though, and he was somewhere new. Most utility elevators were worse for wear, but this one was pristine, every scuff buffed out and every imperfection taken care of in one way or another—though, even just at a glance, they were all impossible not to notice (to him, at least). But, as much as he’d love to get lost down the rabbit hole of ship history, Siren trumped all. “I get the impression that you know as little about what’s going on as myself.”
“If he told me, that’s practically like telling you right to your face.”
And still, Hosehead did what was asked of him without question. Nightbeat found it sparkwarming—he certainly felt like he trusted the Siren all the same. “So… any theories?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“You’re no fun.”
The elevator spat them out and the doors parted to reveal Siren and Nautica. Their excitement could be felt before they were even in line of sight. Nightbeat had to take a moment to appreciate their matching devious smiles. It was such a long moment he had almost forgotten what it was he had been wondering about all day until Siren mentioned it.
“There’s still a bit to go,” Siren gestured for Nightbeat to let him put his hands over his visor so he could usher him along.
Nightbeat complied. Vision was just one of many senses. He could tell from where the elevator had landed and the particular high-frequency buzz of heavy-duty communication devices that they were nearing the bridge. The quiet, tense atmosphere, filled with the quiet whirring of dozens of Cybertronians systems that some sort of assembly was about to commence, so far confirmed his pre-existing suspicions.
“So,” Siren said, still guiding him along with the other two in tow. “Got any theories?”
“We’re on the bridge. Lots of people waiting for a presentation.”
“Oookay, you’re halfway there.” Siren said as they came to a stop. “Ready for the reveal?”
Nightbeat nodded.
With his vision restored, his assumptions were confirmed. They were off to the side of the stage, giving a full view of the coffins lined up in front of it.
Coffins? So it was a memorial. Nightbeat had thought so. Any doubt he had came from the fact that “surprise memorials” were not a thing. (He didn’t see this one instance setting any trends, either. He supposed that made it all the more special.)
That also explained Nautica’s involvement… springing this on some people would not end well, but she had been there to tweak everything just so (or so he assumed. Later, he would find out that Siren’s first instincts were right on the mark, and she hadn’t had to do anything but validate them).
The overhead lights being dimmed and party lights strung up along the walls with no other sorts of decoration marked it as festive, but level-headed. Nightbeat recognized quite a few of his and his party’s peers, mostly nearby, others were strewn throughout the room. Brainstorm and Velocity had instantly welcomed Nautica back into their fold, and Velocity gave Nightbeat a smile as a greeting when their eyes inadvertently met.
Nightbeat looked to Siren—he wasn’t sure for what, an explanation, a presentation, something.
“So? Like it?”
Nightbeat wasn’t sure what to say. He loved it. Hopefully, a nod would suffice.
“You’re on the bill if you’d like to be,” Nautica said. “Just give the captains the signal.”
Nightbeat waved wide to Rodimus and Megatron. Megatron responded with a nod so subtle he was lucky it was aimed at someone who noticed things like that. Rodimus flashed a peace sign.
The service began. The audience stood in quiet contemplation. Nautica clung to Nightbeat’s arm and rested her head against him. Siren stood between them and Hosehead, arms crossed, sturdy like an anchor.
Nightbeat noted a marked improvement in Rodimus’ speech-giving abilities, especially considering the obvious lack of a script. He recounted everyone in chronological order, from Shock to the countless Infinites, so young and unfortunate that they never had the chance to have individual names. Even non-crew members who had been swept up in their quest such as Hardhead were acknowledged—yet, somehow, it felt like he had forgotten someone.
Finally, Rodimus introduced and gestured for Nightbeat, who ran up to his side (after Nautica begrudgingly let go of him). The stage lights pointed right at them almost completely obscured the crowd.
“And, now, Nightbeat.” Megatron said. “Someone who made my previous life exceptionally more difficult than it had to be.”
A compliment, to be sure.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking—‘but, wait! Nightbeat’s still with us!’” Rodimus said. “Well, in case you didn’t know, there were some stretches of time where he wasn’t. It’s not every day we get to let someone who died for the cause know we appreciate it, so…”
Applause—purely Autobot applause, Nightbeat noted the few keeping their hands apart—resounded. Oh, he was loving this.
“Welcome back, Nightbeat.” Rodimus held out his hand.
Nightbeat didn’t know what came over him. He went in for a full-on hug that was a bit too earnest for an audience that size. He briefly accepted Megatron’s handshake and dashed off-stage.
A few more words and the memorial concluded. The lights returned to full blast. Most everyone left, spare a few who needed more time with their late friends before they were to be transported to an off-ship mausoleum. Neither Hosehead nor Nautica stuck around long since they had business elsewhere and it was clear that Nightbeat and Siren only needed each other’s company for now.
Siren jumped in front of Nightbeat, atonally enthusiastic as ever. “Well? Did you like it?”
Nightbeat tried not to laugh. Siren knew how to look on the bright side of anything. “Yes, Siren, you did good. I didn’t even have to ask and you gave me exactly what I wanted. You really know how to make a guy feel special.”
“Just wanted to help you put everything that happened behind you. Might not be as easy as throwing a party, but… you know.”
Nightbeat hooked his hands around Siren’s neck and pulled him closer for a kiss of gratitude. It took quite a while for Nightbeat to communicate just how grateful he was—not just for the memorial, but for everything.
Nightbeat rested his forehead on Siren’s. He had no intention of leaving.
“Aw, you’re spacin’ out on me…” Siren brushed Nightbeat’s cheek to push his head back and get a good look at him.
The touch brought him back instantly. “I was…just thinking.”
“Not surprising. About what?”
“Us.”
“That’s it? Kinda hard not to when I’m standin’ right in front of you…”
Siren seemed…pretty much oblivious to the weight with which Nightbeat said that word. It was charming, in a way, but Nightbeat was now on high alert for the right moment to make him aware.
An announcement from the communications room pinged over the loudspeakers. Blaster reported that there was a mere hour left before the Lost Light as they knew it would be gone for good.
If anyone other than his roommate had made the announcement, Siren probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it. “Hey, wanna come double-check my room with me? I think I’ve got everything, but—”
“Of course.” Nightbeat nodded. Siren sprinted off. He lagged behind a pace or two, psyching himself up to ask maybe the only question that ever really mattered.
With all of Blaster’s things already in the shuttle bay, their room barely resembled what Siren had called home these past few years. At first glance, all of his things were accounted for; his subspace inventory confirmed as much. Nightbeat searched high and low for anything that might have gone unnoticed while Siren checked the door’s control panel for any potentially sensitive data. His research was interrupted right at the end by a screen-encompassing notification that the door was being opened from the other side.
It was Blaster who had come down from the comms room. “Hey, roomie.”
“Heyo! We were just double-checking in here!”
“We—? Oh, hey, Nightbeat.” Blaster said as he entered. “I saw you opened the door, so I just swung by to say bye.”
“Bye.” Nightbeat closed the drawer to the nightstand and, since it was empty, folded it back into the wall.
“You could see that all the way in the comms room? Your job’s kinda creepy sometimes…”
Blaster seemed just as impressed with how barren the room was as they were. “Don’t I know it. Got everything?”
“Yep!”
“Well, I hope you don’t mind me giving you a little something extra. C’mere, Nightbeat, you too.”
Nightbeat was instantly intrigued by the notion of free stuff. Blaster handed them each a small package.
“A mixtape?!” Siren squeaked.
“The same one, twice…” Nightbeat held his out for comparison.
“You aren’t offloading Minibots on us, are you?”
“Hah, no. It’s a souvenir. There’re 198 other copies. But this…” Blaster produced a third and put it in Siren’s hand. “This one’s just for you, chief.”
“No way! Does it have that Rosanna song—“
“The demo, both studio versions, that remix you like. It’s all there.”
“Aw, this…” Siren stacked the tapes and hit them against his palm. “This is great. Thanks. I didn’t—uh, I didn’t get you anything.”
“Doesn’t have to be a thing. You were good company.”
Siren’s plating drooped. “...I wish we hung out more.”
“I was bummed when you started stealing away to his room all the time… but I get it. You’re always welcome at my new place on New Cybertron. I mean it! Which—I’ve gotta meet my moving company, so—“
“This place would’ve fallen apart without you.” Nightbeat nodded as Blaster gave Siren a final pat on the shoulder.
Siren turned the tapes over in his hand again and again. He carefully went over the tracklist—it seemed like Blaster remembered every song he had ever mentioned liking, even ones he himself had forgotten about.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just…wasn’t expecting…anything like this.”
“Chin up, Si. Blaster’s job kept him busy, you know what that’s like. And I won’t let you take such an ill-suited position again. I can’t wait to see what you look like sans uniform…”
Siren smiled, mostly because Nightbeat was obstructing his decals with his hands, trying to picture it. “Wow. You’re so right! Future’s wide open! I can wear whatever I want!”
“There’s almost too many options, what with the half a dozen newly discovered colonies. But, mysteries crop up anywhere and everywhere… any idea what you want to do?”
It was almost tangible how easily everything was falling into place. Standing in a completely empty room with Nightbeat felt not just like the present but a premonition, too. “Actually, I got this offer…”
Nightbeat’s expression narrowed. “Thunderclash’s rehashing this whole thing, isn’t he?”
“Oh, come on. How could you possibly guess that?”
“Nervous smirk, tense shoulders, forward antennae twitching ever-so-slightly. Crush behavior. You used to do all that when meeting with me at first.”
“Wha—that’s irrelevant! Yes, he’s assembling a crew, but not for a quest. More like a lot of little quests. Doing deliveries. Repairing our race’s reputation. It’s this state-of-the-art ship he’s calling the Exitus.”
“That sounds much needed. Do you know who else he asked?”
“Yeah, he wants Nautica for some xenorelations thing that went right over my head, and Rodimus for entertainments officer…”
“Talk about a demotion. He’s not gonna like that he’d be fantastic at that. I wonder if he’ll accept. And Thunders poached you for fire chief?”
“Well, that was his offer, but I gave him a counter-offer: ‘need any detectives?’”
“And?”
“And he said sure!”
“Look at you, your spark’s already set. I’ll have to go over the details, but… on principle, of course I’ll join.”
“Whoa, really? Can we be roommates?”
“Can we b—” Nightbeat tried not to laugh. Tried—and failed.
Well, that was disheartening. Siren scratched behind his antenna’s base, which suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, as did the rest of him. “What’s so funny…?”
Nightbeat managed to stop seeing the humor in it. “Nothing. Sorry. Listen. I don’t just want to share a room with you, Siren, I want to share… everything. Not literally everything, but… you’ve been one hell of a light in the dark, it only makes sense to try and keep you around.”
Siren felt suddenly frozen. Did he hear that right? Was he dreaming? It was like what he thought of Nightbeat was coming out of Nightbeat’s own mouth. “Same… Thinking I’d never see you again made me realize how much I really want you.”
Suddenly, Nightbeat clamored to access his pocket, sparing Siren from his own vocal stumble. “I have something for you. Close your eyes, hold out your hand.”
Siren covered his face with one palm and laid out the other. Nightbeat gingerly placed something in it. Siren shifted his fingers slightly to try and get a read on it, but wasn’t confident enough to announce his assumption.
Seconds passed. “...You can look now.”
“A magnifying glass?!” Siren gasped, waving it around as if it had magical properties. “For me? But it’s so old, it’s yours, right? Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. The object of an Act of Profference is supposed to be valuable.”
“…O-oh.”
What?! Nightbeat was serious? Siren simply couldn’t believe it, even with having fantasized about doing something similar, but he dismissed it as just that: a fantasy. He thought it was too soon to try. He felt burning. Searing. Everything went red, then, suddenly, dark. Critical system failure. He clattered forward.
…
He came to, unsure how long had passed. His head had been propped up on Nightbeat’s lap, the bot in question stroked his arm soothingly. He didn’t even begin to panic, given those circumstances.
“There you are. Are you okay?”
Siren stared ahead and waited for his boot-up sequence to complete. Nothing was out of the ordinary. “Um…yeah.”
“Good. Two more seconds and I was about to go flag down a medic.”
“What—what happened?”
“I should ask the same thing. You were only out a minute. Has anyone ever told you that you have strong psychosomatic reactions?”
“Yeah, actually…” Seeing the magnifying glass still in his grip jogged his memory. He sat upright. “I—I’m just not used to the other person being so gung-ho! I’ve never even seen you transform!”
“You will.” Nightbeat assured. “I’m sorry. Is this too soon?”
Siren shook his head. His instinct was simply “no”, but his brain kicked in soon after. “I-I don’t know. It’s kind of a big deal… aren’t you supposed to…think about these things?”
“Sure, I did. It’s simple. I like you. I want to stay with you.” Nightbeat looked away slightly. “I guess I just wanted you to know that. You don’t have to decide right this instant.”
Primus. Siren always felt like he was wrong for being so spontaneous, it was refreshing to see someone with foresight as great as Nightbeat’s to act like him. “No, this instant is fine! It’s perfect!” Siren sat upright, and now both of them were on their knees. “I accept! What do I have to do to make this official?”
It took Nightbeat a moment to process that Siren just gave him everything he wanted. “Just get yourself a detective license like you’ve been saying you will.”
“That’s it? You’re not even asking that I stay one.”
“I wouldn’t want to limit you. You just need credentials so you can at the very least tag along when I need you.”
“But I thought an Act of Devotion was supposed to be huge!”
“Detecting is everything to me. It is huge.”
“…You’re right. Why am I even questioning this? Of course I will, Nightbeat! I’ll do it first thing!”
A smile as sweet as it was small crept across Nightbeat’s face. He wrapped his arms around Siren who didn’t immediately reciprocate out of sheer disbelief.
“So, really? Now—we’re—? Just like that?”
Nightbeat tucked his face into Siren’s neck and made an affirmative murmur.
Unbelievable! Siren held on tight to his consciousness and managed not to lose it this time. He nestled further into Nightbeat’s embrace and let it wash over him, for the first time unafraid that he might, for whatever reason, lose him.
Siren couldn’t wait to tell Hosehead. He couldn’t wait to tell everyone—it would probably be the only thing he’d talk about in the coming weeks. As Nightbeat gradually relaxed his grip, Siren’s mind flooded with anticipation for the future, in the broadest sense. Too often it had seemed impenetrably dark, and the entire world like it was against him, but now, everything seemed bigger, brighter, more bearable. ✧