ONE LAST DANCE

© December 2005 Rikard Bakke
Embellishments added January 2013

Clear blue skies.

Nothing like them.

The most beautifully azure canvas with specks of white in any shape imaginable to any man or machine -- some barely changing, others swirling as were they manipulated by Michaelangelo himself.

And the brush? A streak of red.

Aerodynamically optimized wing assembly. Economical low-friction fuselage. Supreme maneuverability. Fearless speed. Every element one cornerstone of an aerial artist.

Powerglide cut through one cloud after another, his jet stream the energy string binding so many fragments of stratocumulus together into a pearl necklace carried by the wind, sparkling among the sun-drenched streaks that sprinkled through the gaps.

But wait.

The perfect necklace stood to be blemished as six dark vapors appeared in the distance, quickly growing in size and recognizability. Frosty reality was rapidly closing in on this sunny daydream.

"Oh, my," Powerglide half-chuckled, quickly identifying the six forms. "I didn't know those amateurs even knew how to appreciate the arts."

His adversaries soared next to one another, moving not one inch to either side, only occasionally powering forward and dropping back again like the LED indicators of an equalizer board.

Their agility was beyond doubt. One might even recognize a brutal magnificence in their gift for moving so rigidly in relation to their path of flight. And, if Powerglide had to be persuaded into admitting as much, there was something to admire in the way their smooth hulls caught the sun, its light bouncing off and around them and dispersing as sharply as the blades of razors.

He noted how the effect lent them the appearance of airborne sculptures.

"Well, now… looks like they like to dabble, too."

As if they had been unaware of him until that exact point, they abruptly turned, one after the other, banking toward him with cold determination. Responding calmly to the coming challenge, Powerglide simply gained altitude and slightly dipped his nose to improve his overview.

"You know you’re in over your head when you have to be six to take on one guy."

Powerglide did not deal in fear. Nor was it his wont to hurl disgust at unreasonable odds. Such situations merely served to amuse him.

"New target acquired, Starscream," Dirge intoned in customary desolate fashion.

"Excellent," came the self-satisfied response. '"Crushing Autobots isn't on the agenda today, but I'm sure Megatron won't mind a little diversion while we're out here."

"Besides," Skywarp emphasized, "how else are we gonna keep ourselves in shape?"

"Kicking that can around would be a good warm-up exercise!" Ramjet agreed.

Powerglide, though normally given to scoff at derision, could barely conceal his mirth. It had been a good day. Confidence was high.

"Aww, what's the matter, Ramjet? Got something against sleek and awesome?"

Before anyone could respond, Powerglide descended upon them. If it appeared aimless, his power dive was carefully deliberated; fractions of seconds were all a warrior ever had -- and all Powerglide ever needed -- to realize and execute improvisational combat.

"Split up!" commanded Starscream. "Move! Now!"

The order came too late. Powerglide dove between Ramjet and Thundercracker, in that instant attaining terminal velocity as each of his wings struck the tips of the former's right wing and the latter's left with enough force to buffet them apart, sending them into uncontrollable gyrations. It was the right price for a little extra maneuvering time.

Transforming as they barely evaded impact with the spinning fighters, the unaffected quartet quickly regrouped, embarrassed anger fueling their determination for a fatal tactical solution.

"He's about to level off!" Starscream shouted as his fingers motioned studied strategy to the others much like a human baseball player might use hand signals. "Horizontal angles! Go!"

Dirge, Thrust, and Skywarp immediately plummeted toward the red shape beneath, targeting Powerglide's wings and his nose as Starscream lagged slightly behind to lock onto his aft section.

"Ramjet! Thundercracker! Stop tumbling and hit him! Vertical angles!"

Reverting to robot mode, the final pair pushed in on Powerglide's underside and topside. The six of them enclosed him inside a virtual strongbox, its hostile walls shrinking, relentlessly eating away at the space surrounding him.

Powerglide detected their presences and relative positions not so much by sight as he did by sound, the heated air that wafted at his sensors, and even the subtle shadings picked up by the clouds closest to him.

"Uh-oh. This one's gonna be tight."

He knew swiftness was not the key. Any one of them could push well past the Mach 2 mark, a rate of velocity that he could only dream of equaling, much less outpacing. He would have to play a game of evasion to outshine even his own hit parade of sidesteps.

Most of his adversaries were straightforward to place within any number of avoidance scenarios, but one was a nearly unquantifiable variable. Like the mysterious space sprites of Dryadon -- half matter, half energy fields -- Skywarp was a wildcard warrior if ever one had been built.

The only way out of the envelope was one of its corners -- accounting for laser blasts, accounting for proximity, accounting for possible places the teleporting phantom might rematerialize.

All in a split second.

"Hold for my signal!" he heard Starscream bellow with expectant glee.

"Have to time this right..."

He waited for the word to come. If he could yank himself into action the instant he heard the first inkling of it, he knew he could slip through the cracks.

"F--"

Like a cork popping from the pressure of a shaken champagne bottle, Powerglide shot to the upper left, a bank of clouds his critical target.

"--ire!!"

He heard the lasers pump from their arm-mounted weaponry, the way they almost singed the air as he tilted back toward the right, beginning a frantic zigzag movement. He felt the light of the first laser rays as they passed him, hoping time would remain on his side.

He did not scream as a second volley found what seemed like a dozen places on his body. No time to think about pain. Only three things mattered -- evade further lasers, hide, and Skywarp.

Then the clouds had him, providing a micro-second of relief before the black warrior emerged above him -- from distorted light to solid substance.

He needed to think fast. All it would take was one heat-seeking missile and he would be finished, cover or no cover. Random laser rays into every cloud in sight might be equally dangerous.

He plunged lower, the area sufficiently thick with cumulus to conceal his contours from all six opponents. By now, intuition and all those hours of cloud sculpting were his only allies.

"Pearls on a string..."

He heard the muffled cries rebound upon his delicate shelter as he edged away from them, going through cloud after cloud like before, still capable of enough speed to go undetected if his disguise should momentarily lose density.

The order to detach and redeploy toward their original objective scarcely made its way to his power of hearing, but content always had value over clarity.

Alone again, he headed for home.

*****

Balanced hands worked in absolute tandem -- one set of red fingers manipulating a welding laser, the other a bolt capper -- performing secondary repairs with the same care they would lavish on intricate micro-circuit surgery.

"Six, huh? That's gotta be some sorta record."

"Yeah, well, I think I was just a little diversion in their schedule, like some warm-up exercise. I'm kinda insulted."

"Heh," Ratchet dryly chuckled. "So maybe these dents on you weren't deep enough to bruise your, eh, moral fiber. But look at you. You're lucky they broke off the attack."

"Hey, nothing a little retro charge work won't cure."

"That's not the point. Look, Powerglide... it's not the '80s anymore. Things have taken on more than one shade of grey since the new millennium."

"Come on, Ratchet. Do you think I don't know that?"

"What I think is that it's one thing to get out and about and find distractions. I get that. We all need them from time to time. But it's another thing altogether to engage SIX Decepticons in battle! What, did you reactivate this morning and think you were Omega Supreme?"

A moment of silence -- part concentration, part discomfort -- followed as Ratchet tightened up the last of several panels that had been knocked loose on Powerglide's back.

"Listen, if these were better days I wouldn't mind straightening your chassis every once in a while, but I need as much time as I can spare for more serious injuries. What you did today was unnecessary."

Powerglide's expression shifted into resentment.

"And what was I supposed to do? I was minding my own business until they crashed my scene."

"Oh, I don't know," sighed the medic. "Maybe you did the only thing you could've done. I just wish there were more to show for it than bumps, cuts, and scrapes. We don't even know what Starscream's band was up to."

As if the last word of Ratchet's sentence triggered it, his communicator began beeping at the lower end of his forearm. He tapped the flashing blue panel, which relaxed into a solid blue glow before it swiveled up in a 270-degree arc. The voice of Optimus Prime, rustling with a hint of signal noise, bled into the air.

"Ratchet, Hoist could use a hand in surgery. He needs help stabilizing Windcharger’s neuro-electron flow. The capacitors aren't accepting the new intake regulators you and Wheeljack designed."

Ratchet shook his head with no small measure of regret.

"I really thought we had it this time, Prime. Eight permutations..."

"I know. But it's a good working theory. It just needs more refinement to make it a good working solution."

"Okay, I'll be right there."

As his communicator returned to its basic position, Ratchet looked at Powerglide as if he were blind; not really seeing him, just remembering that he was there.

"I've gotta go. Think you can fix some of the superficial damage yourself?"

"Sure."

Ratchet nodded and stood, but the turn Powerglide expected him to make did not yet come. Instead, the mechano-physician produced a small object from behind his chest hull.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Here."

Ratchet tossed the object -- a simple relay disk -- to his patient.

"Who sent this?"

"I've no idea. Teletraan piped it in from outside. Um, I expect playing it might solve the mystery?"

Powerglide gazed at the disk, hardly noticing Ratchet's exit as curiosity overtook him. If Transformers had mailboxes, his was usually empty, and in this case, the proverbial letter bore no outward indication of its sender.

Soon, doors closed behind him, his vision settling on the subdued control flickers of the personal AV system that nearly all of their private quarters contained. He strode keenly to the console, plunging the disk into place, not bothering to switch on the appliance before doing so. It would start the message regardless of pre-activation.

The voice of Teletraan I sounded, describing the disk's basic information.

"Content: personal communiqué. Origin: Hybrid Technologies, Inc. Date: Friday, August 16, 2002. Time: 08:56:32. Format--"

"Astoria..." Powerglide whispered.

"--dio only. Commencing playback."

He dimmed his optics, hearing a low electronic surge that seemed to serve as a muted fanfare.

"Powerglide, it's me. Heh, 'me.' Me who, right?"

A twinge of guilt scratched his thoughts; a paper cut to a very particular finger of his memory.

"I suppose you didn't expect to hear from me after all this time, but I've been thinking about you lately. I'd like to see you. Would you come visit me at my estate?"

He heard her pausing, sensing there was more she wanted to say. Something in the sound of her breath told him she was holding back.

"The location is included in the second layer of this disk. A read-out should appear on your screen once this message is over. Let me know as soon as you can."

Teletraan’s voice returned.

"End of line. Activating secondary module."

Powerglide memorized the directions as they appeared, already pondering his decision.

The idea of seeing her again was not troubling, only the time that had passed since he had last seen her. Why had he not sought her out like he once said he would? Half of the answer was obvious -- war -- the other half was not so easily explained.

But she wanted to see him. That had to mean something.

"Optimus Prime," he began, keying the appropriate code to link his quarters' communications directly to the leader.

"I read you, Powerglide. We're in the middle of a complicated circuit regrouping. I'll return your call as soon as we're done," Prime answered, his tone benign if preoccupied.

"I just wanted to ask permission to take care of something personal."

"Which is?"

"Astoria Carlton-Ritz wants to see me. Seemed important. Might take a couple of days."

"Hmm. Very well. I guess we can spare you for a while. Use the time to recuperate while you're at it."

"Thanks, Prime."

Pointed silence.

His physical condition was only a distant notion as he left the base, nothing clearer to him at that moment than the shortest path to her residence.

*****

Powerglide touched down at the end of Astoria's driveway, which served nicely as a runway for a vessel of his size. Transforming, he approached the gate, drinking in the lustrous green of the well-cared-for lawns encircling the decorative, low-cut walls. If she needed security, she was obviously unwilling to let it spoil the view.

He pressed a prominent button on the side, correctly assuming it would make his presence known.

"Yes, hello?"

"Uh, hi. I believe I'm expected. I'm one of the Autobots. My name--"

"Ah, yes. Power..."

He got the distinct impression that the owner of the intercom voice was checking his notes for the rest of the name.

"...glide, isn't it, sir?"

"That would be me."

"Very good, sir. Please proceed to the right of the main building and head for the swimming pool. Ms. Carlton-Ritz will be there for her afternoon dip."

Powerglide uttered thanks as the connection closed, and the gate -- an impressive cast-iron exercise tall enough to accommodate his frame -- opened on its own and began to close as soon as the guest had cleared the passage.

He made his way toward the right, studying the house, the gardens, and the carefully laid cobblestone paths. It was certainly grand-looking, but it somehow felt misplaced. It was almost like he was at the wrong house. The Astoria he remembered cared little about estate and societal standing. Then again, as a Transformer, he could perhaps not comprehend how much a human being might change in fifteen years, an interval that to him was barely any time at all.

He rounded the corner and spotted the pool. It looked deserted from his point of view until he saw someone emerge from the water and climb out. He walked calmly now; oddly anxious to find out how she would respond to his actually being there.

Even from that distance, the exactitude of his vision allowed him to see every detail; the concentration on her face as she twisted water out of her hair and brushed it, how tall she stood as she put on her robe. The fresh-faced kid he recalled had grown into an elegant lady.

Getting close enough that she had to hear his metallic footsteps, he saw her stopping in her tracks at the sound. She slowly turned her head, her body following, as he reached the pool.

She lit up in the kind of perfectly sincere grin that only the best of surprises could bring.

"Well, now... look who's here."

"Well, you told me to let you know."

"So I did. I have to say, your messenger service is impeccable."

She smiled again and stretched out her arms, as if to pose for her favourite fashion magazine photographer.

"So how do I look?"

"Like I looked away for five minutes and suddenly you're a woman. Me, of course... still the same ol' hunk o' metal."

"Well, you're right about the 'hunk' part," she said, a soft laugh on the edge of her words.

He remembered her girlish fascination with him from years before, still a little embarrassed but glad that she was still happy to see him.

"Uhh, yeah. Look, Astoria, I uh..."

"You feel bad that you never looked me up? It's okay. Time flew for me, too. Now, I'm hoping in those five minutes that I became a woman you also got to be more than you were before you knew me. What's been going on with you?"

"War, mostly. A little cloud chasing."

"Oh, I'd love to go cloud chasing. It's been too long. Take me?"

"Um, I'll think about it."

He crouched down, settling on one knee, attempting both to get comfortable and bring his eye line closer to hers.

"Say, what are those bumps and scratches on you?"

"Just got 'em this morning. Present from some of those goons who captured you back in '86. Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

"Oh, I'm glad. That you'll be all right, I mean. But I can always rip apart another outfit if you need dressing."

She sighed through teeth bared in an uncertain smile, teeth that were chewing on a thought. She was not one for small talk, yet the topic at hand swung all the way to the other side of the scale.

"Powerglide... You're probably wondering why I asked you here after all this time."

"You, uh... wanted to reminisce about old times over our beverages of choice?" he replied, trying to infuse jollity into his voice, almost forgetting the feeling that something somber lay waiting at the heart of the conversation.

"There'll be time for that later. But right now, I have something to tell you. Something I want you to know."

"Sounds serious."

"Mm. Let's go inside."

She walked toward the house and pushed open a tall pair of doors that led into an exquisitely designed parlour. It was a good place to relax; the high ceiling made it airy in the summer if the doors were open, and in winter, when the room was heated, it provided a pleasant refuge for getting lost in a good book. She turned, halfway through the doorway.

"Don't worry," she assured him. "You'll fit."

Crouching slightly, he followed her, standing upright once he was inside.

"Nice place you've got here. But not quite you, somehow."

"It's not. My dad built this house just like he built the company. And when he died... well, he left this to me as well."

"Gotcha."

"Powerglide..."

She grabbed hold of one of his hands and pulled it to her, the fingertips of her right hand affectionately tracing the lengths of his significantly larger digits.

"Powerglide, none of us has any patience for beating around the bush, so I'm just going to say this. I have a condition known as Multiple Sclerosis."

"Multiple Sclerosis? I think you're gonna have to explain that."

"I was diagnosed with it a few years ago. It's a chronic disease of the central nervous system. I guess your equivalent would be 'central circuit system' or something like that."

She paused, trying to find as simple and painless a way as possible to finish her explanation.

"It breaks down a tissue substance called myelin in my brain and my spinal cord. It's interfering with my nerve pathways."

Powerglide was no authority on medicine -- much of what she was telling him was almost like another language altogether -- but he needed no medical expertise to comprehend the gravity of her words.

"How did you find out?"

"Well, there are symptoms, of course... like loss of coordination and muscular weakness, for example, or trouble with speech, but that doesn't usually occur until it reaches a more advanced stage. In my case, I was experiencing visual disturbances. I didn't think it was a big deal. Had my eyes looked at, you know. Thing is, there was nothing wrong with the eyes themselves, so Newton insisted I get a full medical. I hadn't had one in years, anyway, so I thought, 'Fine.'"

"Newton?"

"You've met. Sort of."

"Ah. The voice at the gate."

"Uh-huh."

"He was my dad's aide... and now he's mine. There isn't much of Dad's I didn't inherit."

She smiled slightly and looked up from his steel hands to fix on his softly glowing eyes.

"I guess you can imagine my surprise when I got the medical report. It's not every day a girl gets told that her nerves are beginning to lose their coating."

"Kind of like a micro-circuit losing its ability to conduct electrical impulses, maybe."

"Maybe."

"Hey, uh... I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be."

"Are you getting... you know, help?"

"There are ways to modify and manage the symptoms and the course of the disease. I'm taking injections to slow the effects. Drinking extracts."

A bitter timbre entered her voice.

"It's a real franchise."

She briefly closed her eyes, collecting herself.

"There's a lot of research being done. All kinds of theories being suggested. But no two cases are the same. Nobody knows what's causing it. All they can tell me... is that it's developing more rapidly than usual in me. That I can believe."

"You mean it's getting worse?"

"I seem to have less strength, yeah. I get tired. Have to lie down on the floor sometimes to brace my back. I'm 36 years old... but there are times I feel like 70."

Powerglide suddenly felt like he had been thrust into a lucid dream. He was aware of his surroundings, but he could not seem to interact with them. No matter how tightly she held onto his hand, Astoria was at once beyond his touch.

"Why did you ask me here?"

He regretted the words and the tone in which they were spoken as soon as they emerged.

"I didn't mean to sound that way."

She curled one corner of her mouth upward, seeming to understand the reaction.

"I suppose it was selfish... but I wanted to really know you before... you know, before I got in a really bad way."

He looked to the door and back at her, gently pulled his hand from hers, and eased outside, not speaking as he walked to the edge of the swimming pool. Had she been younger, she might have felt deserted, but then her perception of him reached deeper than most. Tough exterior, tender interior. Almost a cliché, really, but no less the truth. She understood that, computer brain or not, he needed to absorb the information.

He examined his likeness in the pool. He had known the meeting had to be something more than a simple reunion, more than sharing a contemplative outlook on their lives since they last saw each other. But things were rapidly getting far more existential than he could have realized. Astoria was not much older than Spike Witwicky, whom he still regarded as a child despite having become a family man with a son of his own.

He saw her reflection stepping to the edge, her hands again grabbing his.

"This isn't very fair of me, is it?"

"Aw, forget 'fair.' Life is what it is. I just don't think about that a whole lot, so whenever I have to, I guess I'm not so quick to process it."

"So you're not angry?"

He carefully lowered to his knees and pressed his hand against her back.

"Nah."

He could tell she was relieved, and seeing that made him feel better as well, but he felt urgency running counter to serenity. Was everything being done to help her that could be done?

"Astoria, do you have easy access to the research? Your medical records?"

"Yeah, I have copies of them here. I keep in touch with the specialists... they're good about keeping me updated on developments."

"Okay. Uh, would you be willing to release those files to Autobot Headquarters?"

"Why? Do you know about our diseases?"

"I don't. But we have a scientist with endless knowledge about intergalactic disease and medicine. It's a long shot... but maybe he'll be able to see something your doctors can't."

"From my case alone?"

"No, he'll use our database to run comparisons with other available cases. If there's anything our technology can do to help, he's the one who can find the answer."

"All right," she agreed, not daring to sound hopeful. "I'll transfer them tonight."

Astoria twitched, remembering something.

"Powerglide, I almost forgot. I have a board meeting at 3. I still think they're a waste of time, but hey... girl's gotta be responsible. Profuse apologies are hereby offered to our most esteemed company."

She put on an exaggerated serious expression, not quite able to keep her lips from curving into a smile.

"Ah, so you're throwin' me out, huh?"

"That's right, fella."

She turned and started walking, holding his right index finger as if to pull him to his feet, and if anyone watching did not comprehend the impossibility of that very thing, his rising was so in tune with her movements that she appeared to have the strength of dozens.

"Here. Let me walk you to the gate."

By the time they reached it and those impressive doors opened to let him out, Powerglide was a little confused. Was that it? "Hi, how are you? By the way, I'm really sick?"

But as she let go of his finger, she smiled at him.

"Can you come back tomorrow morning?"

Stepping backward through the gate, his eyes flared with relief.

"Gee, I'll have to cancel all my other appointments. But I think I can reschedule without too much fuss."

"Great! See you then!"

Walking to the house, she spun around and moved backward, her eyes never abandoning him as he rearranged his shape into plane mode, the output from his thrusters distorting the air and sending tiny blades of freshly mown grass flying until he was but a vanishing dot in the sky.

*****

As Powerglide transformed and took the ground, the gate opened, allowing egress to the lady of the estate. She looked fresh, almost like the Astoria he remembered, except instead of the formal light yellow dress she had worn then, she had on a much more relaxed outfit -- jeans, a sweater, and boots -- and she wore it well.

She acted the part of the model again and twirled for him twice in the morning sun.

'"Here I am... in all my average glory."

"Average? My left aileron."

"Why, thank you, kind sir. So what are we doing today?"

Astoria might have calmed a bit over the years, but she still carried the excitement of the younger woman she had been.

"Well, you've been showing me your life over the past few days now. I think it's time I showed you a little of mine."

"You mean..."

"Yup. It's time to go cloud chasing."

"All right!"

"I'd, uh, lend you my arm, but, er..."

"That's quite all right. I like my men tall."

"Heh heh... you."

"Yeah, me."

Powerglide shook his head, pretending to be mystified with her, though in truth he had never understood a human being better.

"Stand back."

She allowed him the space to convert to plane mode, and within seconds, a side door opened, inviting her inside. She had been around the world by air, but it would never compare to riding with him. It was intimate, she was not bound by a fixed destination, and she could even give into a little childlike fantasy and pretend to be the pilot. It was a first class flight of a very special kind.

She was momentarily startled as he fired the thrusters, the initial propulsion gently pressing her back to the seat. He slid off the grass and took to the sky, the ground soon shrinking underneath them as foot upon foot was added to his altitude.

His disembodied voice spoke.

"Is this okay, us hanging out every day? Don't they need you at the company?"

"Of course it is. Even with the responsibilities I admittedly have, mine isn't exactly a 9 to 5 job. Dad's people are still pretty much running the place. I know they didn't think much of daddy's little girl becoming the boss, but they're good people. I like to think they kinda warmed to me after all."

"Well, if you could melt my crust..."

"Believe me, your brittleness never had anything on those 60-something company guys."

Powerglide remained upwardly slanted as he had been since takeoff, almost where he wanted to be.

"What do you say we do a little sculpting?"

"Sounds cool. Is it anything like skywriting?"

"Kind of."

"Oh, I love that. Is there anything I can do?"

"No! Don't help me!"

She giggled.

"I'm better with machines than I used to be. But sure, be that way!"

"I just really need to concentrate on something special here."

"What could be so special? I mean, yeah, I am sitting in a chair in the sky! But--"

"Just be quiet for five minutes!"

They were there.

Astoria held her breath without knowing it, anxious to witness his unique perspective, to be a part of the spectacle that Powerglide was about to conceive.

Difficult though it was to have a sense of what he might be shaping or how he was even doing it, she waited with as much patience as she could gather, glad for the seatbelt that kept her in place while he swung and banked and manipulated the airborne swabs of cotton.

Her breath caught in her throat every time he pierced the hazy heaps of water droplets and ice crystals -- the experience reminiscent of going through a car wash, only infinitely more poetic and restorative.

At last, his cycles wound down and his harmonious collaboration with the high winds allowed him to coast toward the Sun before he veered into a wide curve.

Slowly, the culmination of Powerglide's aerobatics entered her field of vision.

She gasped, the fingers of one hand covering her mouth as if to keep inside words she could not quite articulate.

The sunlight danced upon a precisely arranged collection of clouds, making them glow like gemstones along the smoky filament he had left behind. It was a near-perfect rendering of the last thing her father had given her.

"The necklace!"

"I figured you might like to see it again."

"I don't suppose Dad's energy formula's in there, too?"

"Heh, nah. Ya see what I have to work with here."

"You did great. Thanks."

She caressed his console.

"My pleasure. Hang on!"

He circled the necklace one more time and dashed away, a new destination awaiting their arrival.

"So where to now, Mr. Jet Plane, sir?"

"Can't tell ya. It's a secret."

"I hate secrets."

"So what? It's still gonna be a secret!"

"Well, it better be a good one!"

She felt like the heroine of a classic action adventure, heading for the unknown with a leading man with whom she might at times be at odds, but with whom she nonetheless knew things would always be sound and fine.

*****

Before long, they were cruising along the Pacific coastline. She was uncertain of their exact location, though California seemed a safe assumption with its endless shores. Eventually, they reached a precipitous area, a prominent cliff at the center. Difficult to climb for the average person, it was easy for someone like Powerglide to reach.

When he was above it, he transformed, nimbly transferring Astoria from cockpit to hands, and as soon as both of his feet were firmly planted upon the craggy surface, he put her down as well.

She ran to the cliff's edge. The ocean seemed to stretch further than imagination itself.

"Wow, the view is amazing! I've seen a lot of places on Earth, but this is new to me."

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm not your average tour guide. Ya gotta really know someone to be shown a spot like this."

"Lucky me, huh?"

"You could say that."

Powerglide handed her a blanket.

"It's getting a little late. We'd better get a fire going."

He looked around for something to burn, and luck was in his corner as he spotted two trees -- one already dried-up and fallen, the other well on its way to following suit. Soon, they lay near the edge of the cliff. He knelt beside them, tapping the oval indentation on his brow to trigger a welding tool, whose initially short beam soon extended to the thick tree trunks.

"I usually use this for repairs."

The small bonfire blazing comfortably against the beginning nightfall, Powerglide terminated the soldering beam and seated himself next to her with great care, even as she leaned against his forearm and nestled in the faint warmth coming from within it.

"But like so many things about yours truly," he continued, grinning behind his facial covering, "it's got more than one use."

"Uh-huh. So how come you didn't fix yourself up out there in the desert that time?"

Astoria looked up at him with question-marked eyes, smiling playfully.

"Yeah, if I could rip off my arm and shove it up my forehead. You can just picture that, can't you?"

"You know what? I can!"

She laughed -- a wonderful, completely free sound that he somehow understood had not flowed from her for a very long time -- and for once, he found himself succumbing to contagion and laughing along with her. Not the taunting chuckles he would throw at friends and foes alike, but an honest to goodness chortle.

At that moment, Powerglide discovered something important about the human equation. Where the feeling that existed between the two of them was concerned, there was no such thing.

He was familiar with the human cliché about feeling like knowing for years a person one had just met, but though he did not necessarily believe there was no truth in it, he had never found it applicable to one of his kind.

For all of his sophisticated cerebral processes -- compared to humans, at any rate -- there were levels of emotion and imagination at which humans seemed to rise above even the most humanistic of machines, let alone someone like Powerglide.

But strip away the metal surface hiding the programming that by a more human name was his heart, and strip away the organic matter that surrounded the essence of the human being he had come to hold so dear, and there was no difference. No barrier.

Noting the very rare occurrence that was Powerglide's silence, Astoria pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and looked up, the beginning twilight softening her face and making her look half her age.

"What's going through that mind of yours, huh?"

He lowered his gaze, meeting hers.

"I was just thinkin'... it's a funny notion... this thing called love."

"How so?"

"Hmmm... it seems to work on so many levels on your world. Like... there's a form of affection that I guess could be called 'romantic' on my world, too. But you know... the way you humans express it, the way you build a family, and the way you bond... where I come from, that's very different."

"I guess I didn't expect there to be marriage on your planet, but I kind of assumed you might engage in a similar bonding ritual and even have kind of a... well, bloodline, for lack of a better word."

"Well, yeah, there's lineage, but our way to foster that is to build and program new life. We sometimes have intimate relationships, but family? It's actually more like every Autobot becomes family to other Autobots."

"I like that. It sounds a lot less complicated than what I'm used to."

"Speakin' of family... what was your dad like?"

"Well..."

She allowed a moment for her mind to relax deeper into her memory and find the right words to describe the man who had left the world behind nearly two decades before.

"My whole life, he had his company to run and there would be a lot of meetings and late nights and travels. Hybrid was very important to him, especially after Mom died. In all the ways he was able, he put her into it. He'd incorporate her name into the titles of his designs and even now, a couple of departments are named after her. And no matter how busy he was, he always made me feel like the only thing that truly mattered. I'm sure that part of it was because I was all he had left of her, but I know he would have treated me the same even if she had never left us."

"Most Autobots never have that. A lot of the time, we don't know who threw us together. We have what you might call mentors, but nothing like... you know, a 'parent.' I see how it works between Spike and his father, though -- and between Spike and his son, too."

"Oh, yeah, I think I remember him. He was a mechanic or something."

"They're still close. I mean, you know I've never been a big fan of mushy emotional stuff, but I understand that it's a good thing -- and very important to humans. And now that I'm here with you, I think something's changing."

"What kind of change?"

"Well, since I've seen you again, I'm beginning to understand some things."

"Such as?"

"Don't laugh, 'cause this kind of grates on parts of me, but... I've started to catch myself thinking that, if I were human, you'd, uh... probably... well, uh... probably be the one I'd choose to be close to. But I guess we don't really need to be anything other than what we are to be together... right?"

"Powerglide! You've been holding out on me! You're a philosopher!"

"Feh," Powerglide scoffed good-naturedly. "Just 'cause a guy can think about somethin' other than fightin' Decepti-cretins..."

"But you're right, you know. It's who and what you are that got to me emotionally," she sincerely explained, but a telling smirk soon adorned her lips as well. "And, er, well... the whole shiny jet plane thing didn't hurt, either."

"I have to admit, that'd be tough to give up."

She leaned her head against his arm again and took in the haunting vista of the Sun burning at the edge of the sea, soon to be replaced by the Moon. Nightfall had never been so comforting.

"Powerglide... do you like being here on Earth?"

"It's okay. Love your skies, obviously."

"If there's one place I wish I could have seen, it's your world. To have seen where you came from. But I probably shouldn't. I'd probably disrupt the biosphere or cause a planet-wide breakdown or whatever."

Powerglide enjoyed Astoria's way with irony. It was a sophisticated characteristic, he felt, the willingness to make light of one's own shortcomings or idiosyncrasies. He may not have been very good at that in the past, but he was learning now.

"No kiddin'. You'd have us runnin' for the escape pods in a matter of minutes."

She chuckled, but her mind had really gone somewhere far more profound.

"Hey. Now what's on your mind?"

"Just what you said about love before. You said there sometimes is intimacy among your kind. So... was there anyone... special... on Cybertron?"

"Yeah," he answered after a beat, a little hesitant to enter into a theme that might produce mixed feelings, both for him and for her.

"Though I'm not sure I ever really got a hold on what our relationship really was."

"What was her name?"

"Moonracer."

"What's she like?"

"A lot like me, I guess. Self-assured. I'm not half the marksman she is, though."

"Is she pretty?"

"She's got a nice design, if that's what you mean, but most of us don't think about that. Oh, we're drawn to each other like you humans are. But it's more a matter of companionship. Friendship. That's as good as anything."

"Do you think you'll ever see her again?"

"I actually saw her again a few years ago on a rescue mission back home. She hadn't changed. She said she'd like to come here, but that can't happen yet. Not until the war's over."

"Well, it would be great for you if she could."

"Probably. But what about you? You must have had someone in your life in 16 years."

"There are always people, Powerglide. Coming and going. Some of them I loved. Some I hoped to love. Don't know if any of them loved me. But whether or not they did, they all faded away."

"Sounds lonely."

"Sometimes. But I never dwelled on any of that. See, there was this one guy that I met once. Lovely guy when you get to know him. Saved my life, too. Would take a miracle of a man to follow that."

"Aww, kid... the way you talk."

He squeezed her as gently as he could.

"Powerglide?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you live forever?"

"Could I what?"

It was not a question Powerglide had ever had occasion to consider. As long as he had lived, he had lost no one to natural causes. Only to war.

"Could you live forever?"

"I don't think anyone can live that long, Astoria. But I suppose... with the right upkeep and preservation... I could be around for a real long time."

The profundity of the question began to dawn on him, a poignant reminder of their mortality. Just like he had not considered what time can do to a human being, he had not dealt with the concept of their limited span of life.

Nor would he have a chance to dwell on it now -- a communication was coming in, intruding on the stillness. He tapped the appropriate panel on his forearm to let it through.

"Powerglide, this is Perceptor. Might I see you and Ms. Carlton-Ritz as soon as possible? My analysis is complete."

"Thanks, Perceptor. We'll be there as soon as we can."

He reset his communicator to standby and gave her a soft nudge.

"So... do you wanna go?"

"Can we wait until morning?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"It is. I want to pretend that this night has decided never to end."

"Then one neverending night it is."

As the hours wore on and the night grew darker, they neither talked nor delved into thoughts, choosing instead to surrender to the feeling that, however simple it might be, stretched across the universe.

In the end, she slept beside him, contentedly weary after their days together, never cold between the fire, the blanket, and the warmth of his smooth metal skin.

*****

Astoria awoke, surprised to find herself in flight. Another sunny day greeted her along with the low hum of Powerglide's engines. She collected herself as she folded up the blanket and dropped it beside the seat.

"Hey... why didn't you wake me?"

"I figured you needed the rest."

"I fell asleep on you last night, didn't I?"

"Uh-huh. You seemed to need it, so why would I wake you?"

"I wanted your company more than the rest, but... you're lovely for thinking of me."

"Heh, you've got to be the only living thing that would use that word to describe a guy like me."

The location of his base, a mountain that was really a dormant volcano, began to carve itself into view as Powerglide veered slightly, beginning to leave the more suburban parts of the area and put beneath them a rocky area strewn with patches of forest.

"Astoria, look. We're getting close."

"To Autobot Headquarters?"

"That'd be the place."

She saw the mountain grow closer, the river that ran nearby engraving a blue-green line across the landscape. It struck her strangely charming, perhaps because it appeared a world of its own impossibly projected into another.

He flew into the area outside the main entrance and landed smoothly, immediately after which he let her out, generating the slightest of force fields at the fingertips of one hand to provide a soft buffer as her feet touched the earth.

Stretching her arms and legs, she studied the unconventional access. The once space-faring vessel lay embedded in the mountainside, weatherbeaten by four million years of lopsided repose.

"Interesting architecture."

"Yeah, we went for deco by planet fall. Not a lot of demand for that, if you can believe it. Fortunately, the inside is mostly straight. Come on."

They soon found themselves in the master control room, where Perceptor stood, hunched over Teletraan I's console as he brought various records up on a large segmented view screen, allowing him the simultaneous examination of multiple sources of data. He noticed them entering and met them with a cordial smile.

"Greetings, Ms. Carlton-Ritz."

"Hello, Perceptor. And please call me Astoria."

"Very well, Astoria. I have already conveyed the data to your residence, but I thought it appropriate and beneficial to speak with you in person as well."

"Sounds like you found something," Powerglide speculated.

"Perhaps. Comparing Astoria's medical records and the Multiple Sclerosis research to other of its victims, I have established a pattern that, unfortunately, remains somewhat diffuse. However, to your scientists, it could be constructive in their search for ways to isolate the cause. Additionally, I have contrasted Multiple Sclerosis with similar forms of dysfunction I have encountered on other worlds -- diseases for which they have devised successful treatment -- and found evidence to support your specialists' theory that it may be triggered by a viral element."

"And you did that in just three days?" Astoria asked, visibly impressed.

"Well, Optimus Prime insisted I devote as much time as possible to your case, his sense being that if it proves helpful to you, it may grant salvation for others as well."

"Then I, and maybe countless others, am in his debt. Please thank him for me."

"Astoria, though you're certainly already cognizant of the lack of guarantees, we will continue our contributions to research whenever needed. The incompatible nature of our species does place limitations on our ability for mutual physiological understanding, but in the end, we are all machines."

"I'm not expecting miracles. But I do appreciate this. Thank you so much."

"It was my pleasure and my privilege."

"One last request?"

"How may I help?"

"Would you contact Newton, my assistant, and ask him to come for me?"

"Certainly. I'll arrange it immediately."

"That's two I owe you," she said sincerely.

"Oh, not at all. These days have been most fascinating."

Powerglide nodded silent thanks to the scientist and led Astoria by the hand until they were back outside. Scrutinizing the crashed ship once more, her expression was now pensive, even in the face of the hopeful news.

"Powerglide... I've really loved these days."

"No more than I have, kid."

"But it's time we went back to leading the lives we were meant to lead."

"What's that?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah. But you're making it sound like the end of something is coming."

"Isn't that what life is about? Beginnings and ends? You see... being with you again has made me realize something, too. My condition doesn't really matter. Sick or not, there's going to come a day..."

"Hey, don't talk like that."

"But it's true. Powerglide, you can't take care of me, much as I'd love you to. You have a much bigger purpose to serve than pushing me around in a wheelchair years from now when I'm old and grey. I can't ask you to make that sacrifice -- not for anyone. I need you to understand that."

He could have asked one more time why she would have him see her again, only to end their reunion with such a lack of closure. But he knew she had to have debated it in her mind and decided she would rather share her pain and run the risk of causing more than leave him to find out one distant day that she had departed the land of the living without at least saying goodbye.

"No..." Powerglide said, never before with such softness in his voice. "You're the one who doesn't understand. For someone who doesn't do well with machines, you got into my circuits pretty well. Hey... I know I'm cocky. I don't always see the big picture. But I'm not shallow. I can still see the Astoria that matters, the person that helped me see that there's more to me than just myself."

He picked her up and cradled her in his arms.

"You may lose your mobility... you may lose your ability to talk... you may lose a lot of things... but you're never gonna lose your knack for getting on my nerves!"

Astoria laughed.

"Astoria... you--look, nobody should die alone, all right?"

"Darling, I won't be alone. I'll have these memories. And you wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I love you, you big conglomeration of nuts and bolts."

"Oh, I... I... you know."

"Know what?"

"How I feel about you."

"Maybe I do, but why don't you say it and remove that 'maybe' from the equation?"

"Hey, I'm new at this. I still need time to get that part down. In fact, you really ought to think about seeing me again sometime to check on my progress."

She considered his words, smirking at the simplicity of his argument, touched by the feeling behind it.

"Okay, tell you what. One of these days, when I'm feeling a little extra tired, I might need someone to show me again what it was like to be young and vibrant. Nobody's shown me happy-go-lucky like you have. So... all right. Don't leave the planet or anything, will you? I don't have your number out there in the universe."

"So you'll call?"

"Absolutely. But it may be years. Decades, even. Heck, you might even forget me before you hear from me again."

"Hey, if I can live 'forever'... ya gotta know I'm gonna have memory circuits to match."

She smiled, amused and warmed by Powerglide's almost adolescent display of affection.

"Good deal."

They waited in silence, both wanting to recapture the peace of mind they had known together the night before, until engine sounds intruded on the tranquility of the area. It was the stately form of Astoria's car, arriving to fetch her.

The vehicle ground to a halt a discreet distance from this most alien center of operations. Newton stepped out and opened the door for her, standing ready to close it whenever she found it timely to step inside.

"Guess it's time for you to go back and get better."

"Who knows? Maybe that's exactly what'll happen. Thanks, Powerglide. I'll never forget this time with you."

Astoria let go of his hand and took a few steps toward her ride, but hesitated, vacillating between Powerglide and Newton, as if she no longer knew which way to go.

She finally returned to Powerglide and stretched her arms up to him.

"Oh, wait. Pick me up."

Surprised but not questioning, Powerglide kneeled and scooped her up, lifting her to his face.

"Closer."

When she was only inches away, he felt her palms touching the cheek guards of his helmeting, tender caresses that he wished he could feel as powerfully as they were intended.

"Powerglide, when you think of me..."

Her lips met the tempered steel of his face plate, her eyes closed as they had once been when she experienced her very first kiss. When she opened them again, tears were running down her cheeks.

"...always think of clear blue skies."

He put her down, her hair catching the wind as she touched the ground.

She gave off a vulnerable, girlish laugh as she walked to the car, just like she had done the last time they parted. And as it had been all those years ago, it was the most endearing sound Powerglide could imagine.

The door closed. Newton nodded and took his place in the driver's seat. The vehicle roared to life and began to negotiate its way back home.

He had been convinced he would feel empty at that moment, knowing that the only one to whom he could show feelings like these was someone he might never see again. But she had not left him empty. She had given him a fullness to lean on -- something far beyond the life of confrontation that he knew -- the certainty that what they had shared would be for all time, even if no one else would ever know of it.

"Clear blue skies, Astoria..."

He looked up at the heavens and sighed as his eyes slowly dropped to the road, where her car was beginning to reach the horizon.

"Clear blue skies."

THE END