"You began with nothing but my trust, yet here you are now without it."

★★★★★★★★★

"Ow!"

"Stop fidgeting, then." The medic huffs, carefully taping the woman's shoulder with kinesio tape — do note that this wasn't going quite as well as one might think. "You'll be all fine and dandy after I'm done."

"You mean sore and unable to lift anything," Toby corrects stiffly, resisting a shudder from the cold air and Ratchet's freezing servos. An overly large and comfortable shirt is crumpled in her hand, which rests on her lap. "Ow! Stop that!"

"I will most certainly not," he harrumphs, trying once again to tape her shoulder. "Your shoulder needs to be—"

"All right, that's enough," Toby hisses, ducking away from him and the tape. "Kington! Could you come and do this properly?"

Ratchet makes an indignant sound, spluttering as she refuses his assistance. A well-worn African-American man strolls through the door with a bright grin on his face, looking all-too pleased to be called in. He chuckles a bit as he assesses the issue of Ratchet's botched attempt of taping Toby's arm.

"Ah was wonderin' 'ow long it would take before ya required my specialites," he admits, picking up a fresh roll of tape from the table.

"Shut up." Toby rolls her eyes, straightening again with a grimace. "A patch up would be appreciated."

"Oh, so ya didn't enjoy the lil' dance ya were doin' with our Autobot medic?" Kington chuckles, carefully placing the tape over her shoulder. "Keep ya hair on, you'll be right as rain in a minute."

"I don't see what's so right about rain," Ratchet mumbles, frowning as he attempts to pull off the excess tape from his digits.

"It's a human expression, Piston," Toby tells him patiently, an amused smile on her lips as she watches him struggle. "Means 'all well and fine,' or as you so wonderfully put it: 'all fine and dandy.'"

She smiles as Kington stifles a laugh, mischievously winking at her guardian's expression of total exasperation. Ratchet should have been expecting it, really. It is his fault that he doesn't anticipate her words.

It's been a long few years for her, and the moment of peace and amusement is a nice change. Toby would be lying if she said that she isn't tired, that she isn't walking a thin line between exhaustion and overwhelmed. But she finds her very special place among humans and cybertronians is a somewhat useful tool in trying to shift the media's ever changing opinions of her oddball family. It is an increasingly frustrating and pressing job that, while she willingly does so, it is wearing her thin trying to keep her head above the critics.

The echo of their voices thrum in her head, and it grows with each new article. 'Alien Propaganda Back on the Rise,' 'Who to Trust? Aliens or Humanity?,' 'Let go of Everything You Think You Know; Possible Alien Walks Among Us,' and even the latest of Washington Post's editions: 'Toby Hills; Alien Crusader?' They make her blood boil. Yet, she can't help but be grateful that none of the newspapers has chosen to delve into her family history; she hasn't heard head nor tail of her father, and she wants to keep it that way.

"Oh, for Primus' sake."

Toby blinks, clearing her thoughts before glancing up at Ratchet in slight confusion. Only, with a short bark of laughter, she throws her head back at the sight she sees. The Autobot medic is staring at his servos with a growing scowl, and his digits are trapped in the tape he had attempted to apply only minutes ago, the strips refusing to unstick from where they are. She can physically see the steam starting to pour from his system in his frustration.

"Piston," the young woman tries, trying not to laugh as she calls him. "Piston, Ratchet, Ratch-"

"What is it?!" Ratchet snaps at her, his patience now completely gone. It takes him aback to find his charge looking quite finely amused for once, even as Kington finishes up the taping of her shoulder. "What?"

"Do-" Toby clears her throat with a restrained grin, "-do you want some help?"

He straightens, stiffening as he pretends that he, in fact, is not having issues with removing all of the tape from his own servos. "I am fine," he bristles, not meeting her cool blue hues with his own cerulean optics.

"Are you sure?" the young medic smirks at him, faltering only as Kington touches a particularly sensitive muscle. "You look like you're struggling over there."

"I am not 'struggling'," he insists, well and truly failing to prove his point as the piece of tape he had been attempting to remove comes off and sticks to his other servo. A strained vent leaves his intake, and Toby giggles behind her hand, causing him to shoot her a short glare.

"Piston-" she starts with a grin, only to be interrupted by a small cough from Kington. She glances up at him, her smile falling into a more serious expression.

The military medic smiles reassuringly at her. "You'll be fine. Try not ta pick anythin' up with ya right, nothin' more than a pound or two. We can talk 'bout physical therapy tonight, since ah 'ave a meeting in five, and ah think Ratchet here has one too." A quick glance at the mech proves his assumption, as he makes a strained expression. "Do us all a favour an' don't go 'round strainin' yaself, would ya?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Toby sighs, rolling her eyes a little. Her reputation precedes her, and she knows it. "Don't worry, I'll do what I can."

Ratchet spears her with a warning glare, a piercing look that might have actually affected anyone else. The woman shrugs it off, sending him a raised brow that asks him what else he had been expecting.

"I'll try my very best," she smiles sweetly, enough that it's sickly and full of too many teeth. "All right?"

Kington shares a brief glance with Ratchet, and Toby looks between them with annoyance. They are unfortunate enough to know what she's like, and the situations in which she will worsen her injury are already in mind.

"Look, if I get tackled, it's not my fault, got it?" She skewers them both with a sharp look, equally as accusing as her pointed finger at them both. After a beat of silence, she stiffly and awkwardly tugging her massive shirt back on. "I swear I'll do what I can, but practically nobody knows about my small injury and there's gonna be some accidents. Now, let's get that tape off, yeah?"

Ratchet shifts, unsure of this decision. Then again, he figures, either way she is going to make it her sole interest to annoy him with this event. It doesn't matter to her whether or not he gets it all off himself. "Fine," he vents, defeated, and holds out his servos to her.

Toby grins, sliding off the counter before sauntering over. She gives Kington a casual, two-fingered salute as he heads off to his meeting, only to quickly return back to her task. It makes her chuckle how badly her guardian has got his servos wrapped.

"Oh, dear," she laughs, peeling off one of the strips, "what are you like? Primus, I swear that you're just like Aquarius sometimes."

Ratchet grumbles something, and she snorts, collecting the remains of the sticky tape in the palm of her servo.

"No, you're definitely like him," she corrects, lightly smacking his servo as he tries to take over the task. "You didn't have these little habits before he came along. None quite like this at least."

"He has made quite the impact on all of us," he agrees stiffly, flexing his freed digits with relief.

"Some more than others, I like to think." Toby gives her guardian a meaningful look, still holding his servo in her hand. "You know what he calls you, don't you?"

Ratchet blinks at her, a clear sign that he really has no idea of what she means. Or that he really doesn't listen to anything anyone who isn't his charge says. This earns him a small sigh of mild disappointment, one that he feels he actually deserves for once.

"He calls you 'grandsire,' Ratchet," Toby sighs, wincing as she brushes a piece of fading silver hair behind her ear. "It's really sweet, you know. I really wish you listened to him more. You might hear how much he loves you."

Ratchet will admit, he isn't much one for sappy sentiments, but this little tidbit of information makes his systems freeze. Had he known it? Yes, he heard those words all the time from the excitable little sparkling. But hearing them from Toby, in such a defeated voice? Oh, no. That makes cold guilt flood his programs.

"Look, I know it isn't much," she shakes her head lightly, "but could you please listen to Aquarius, my son, more? He looks up to you so much and you just don't see it."

Ratchet knows he's trapped. How could he not be, what with her saddened eyes and quiet voice. She's never quiet, and it's through that in which he realises just how tired she is. These past years are catching up with her, and he reminds himself that she's only in the beginning of her years. Twenty-three years is not all that old, and she is expending herself before she gets any strength.

"I will, Toby," he tells her, and he means it. "I will listen to both you and your son."

She chuckles softly, finally looking up at him with those shining eyes of hers. In them he can see all of her troubles, every obstacle she has overcome to get where she is in front of him now. He can see the exploding dunes in Egypt, the tinted blood from her own hand, the last sight she ever saw as a human. Each and every trouble, he sees them all.

"Thank you, Ratchet." Toby smiles. Now with her task complete, she steps toward him on her toes and places a light kiss on his cheek plate, dropping back to the ground as her hand falls from his servo. "Really. It means the world."

"I figured," he mutters, before pulling himself from his half-attentive state. His comm is flashing an unfortunate red, and it takes a moment before it strikes him that he is meant to be attending a meeting concerning the recently acquired engine piece. A vent leaves him, and Toby chuckles at him, using the moment to partly tuck in her shirt.

"Let me guess, you're needed for this particular topic?" Toby pokes fun at him, grinning as his expression becomes one of exasperation. "Is my own presence required?"

"As a matter of fact," Ratchet's tone mimics that of someone eager to drag another into their same suffering, "you are. Optimus still has yet to say anything, and I get the feeling that your interruptive nature will be required to sort this out."

"Oh, thank Primus," Toby sighs. A frown then creases her brows and she gives her guardian an offended look. "My what-?"

"Your interruptive nature," he repeats, having no qualms against telling her exactly how annoying she is. "Remarkable that you don't recognise it."

"Wow, thank you so much, Piston, for your words of comfort." The young woman rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she makes for the door. "Shall we be going?"

Ratchet gives her a look, glancing at the doorway for a moment with contemplation before venting quietly. "I suppose we must."

"Onwards it is, then," Toby smiles, reminiscing on a small memory of Aquarius with a pirate's hat. She chuckles softly, sparing Ratchet and his mass displacement a final fleeting look before strolling into the corridor.

Oh, how it amuses her, seeing him using mass displacement like this. If she so much as trips, he is willingly miniature and fussing over her. And yet, to nobody's surprise but everyone's disappointment, he still denies that he has gone soft.

True to character, the sounds of transformation begin the moment Toby turns away, leading her to hop farther out into the corridor to avoid a possible squishing. Although, it's more so out of old habit that she does it than actual concern. It has been a long time since the Autobots adjusted to the small organics they worked alongside. Besides, she knows Ratchet is significantly more cautious around her than anyone else.

"Main hangar?" She stuffs her hands in her cargo pants' pockets, regarding her guardian with an upward tilt of her head. "That's where I assume this is going to be, right?"

"Without a doubt," Ratchet's tone sours slightly as he agrees, making Toby's expression turn to confusion before it morphs into amusement.

"What, was that resentment for Wheeljack or something?" she tests the waters of her 'newfound' tease. It has become a commonly known fact that neither scientist nor medic get on well in the slightest, and often within five or so minutes an interaction goes quite sour.

"Or something," her guardian grumbles, walking onward without checking to see if she is keeping pace. They have known each other long enough for it to be obvious when one of them is struggling; especially when one of them likes to shout their opposition.

Toby chuckles to herself, shaking her head. She, herself, does not mind the Wrecker Scientist and his quirky behaviour. That is not to say that she works with him. His creations often, and quite literally, blow up in smoke.

Nothing is said after that, as they enter the main hangar where other Autobots are just coming in through the bay doors. Colonel Lennox passes them as well, attempting to keep pace with a sharply dressed woman in heels while a small group trails behind.

Toby follows them with her eyes, scowling at the almost flustered behaviour of the Colonel. He's never like that, she knows well. Especially after his four years of experience in working alongside her, of all people.

"What do you think that was about?" She straightens, her head tilting slightly as she considers.

Ratchet shifts next to her, waiting for several NEST officers to move. He scowls at the woman, and a tone of distaste enters his voice as he speaks, "I believe I have a vague idea."

In the background noise of the hangar, Toby can make out the familiar voice of a newscaster, the woman's words almost neutral if only a little concerned, "U. S. Agencies say they have been monitoring the blast. But if, in fact, this was a covert military strike, no nation has yet claimed responsibility."

Within an instant, Toby knows exactly where the incoming Autobots have been, and it takes all of her power to not make a sound of frustration. Her guardian shares a similar feeling, only, he makes a not-so-silent promise to whack the sense of a particular phrase into the helms of the lesser experienced. 'Robots in disguise' is the NEST motto for good reason.

Toby makes a face, her facial expression twisting as she catches sight of her guardian's own expression. Oh, she knows that the 'bots on the rouge mission are going to feel like the pits tomorrow. And she plans on assisting.

"Ah, Gears!"

The young woman snaps her attention to the speaker, wincing slightly as the sharp movement tweaks her shoulder. Wheeljack, white, green, and red paint job and all, meets her eyes, his audial fins fading from their bright blue.

Behind her, Ratchet makes a small noise of disapproval, causing his young charge to chuckle with amusement. He rolls his optics, but otherwise says nothing to voice his opinion.

"Oh, relax, Piston." She pats his pede before grinning at him and jogging off to meet the scientist. "I'm not killing myself by being in his presence!"

As she comes to Wheeljack's pedes, the mech gives a small chortle, bending to greet her. "Good to see ya around, Gears. Ratchet wasn't telling us anything1"

At that, Toby lets out a good natured laugh, "Don't worry, I'm practically fine this time! Didn't get shot at least." She demonstrates her physical wellbeing with a small spin.

"Good enough to settle disputes then?" Wheeljack offers a servo, one which Toby does not hesitate to step on. He carefully scoops her up, and lifts her to his shoulder plate, waiting for her to settle.

"Er," Toby pauses, just about to hoist herself up when a sudden thought strikes her. "I'm not sure that's all too wise of an idea, Jackie," she tells him. "I'll probably worsen my injury, and you'll gain one for letting me do so."

Wheeljack blinks, before the information clicks. "All right, then. If only to save my own helm from Hatchet." He shifts his servo, so that the young woman can instead rest against his chassis as he moves. "That better, then?"

"Vastly," she comments almost dryly, catching the firm gaze of Ratchet over the scientist's digits. She pokes her tongue out at him. "Ah, evening, 'Hide." Toby gives the black mech a wry salute as Wheeljack starts gesturing to the large gun in his servos. She makes no mention of Optimus, but scowls at his alt in confusion.

"Gears," he returns the greeting, albeit absently.

"Now, this gun is the perfect invention, Ironhide," the scientist tells him with pride, making the weapon specialist stiffen with alarm. Wheeljack continues, oblivious to the sudden caution that the mech displays, "Good for long distance, and at great effect at short range."

"To be clear," Toby interjects, stopping Wheeljack from rambling on about the mechanics, "I helped build it. And design it. And test-"

"Yes, yes," Wheeljack frowns at her. "We know all that."

"Ironhide doesn't." True to her point, Ironhide looks positively perplexed, unsure whether to actually trust the weapon he holds. "As I said. It was our invention. You'll be fine, Sling-shot."

Ignoring the nickname, Ironhide nods, appearing more confident now in the capabilities of his brand new and hopefully tested weapon. "Right."

Wheeljack turns just then, to meet the two approaching humans on the ground, making Toby lurch from her place. Irritated, she gives him a firm knock on the chassis, creating a louder sound than she initially intended as the impact echoes.

"What is this? A children's playground?"

Toby frowns, looking down at the woman who spoke. She recognises her as the same woman that Lennox, who happens to be standing right beside her, had been chasing after, but her face, nor her voice, is familiar to the young medic.

"Colonel Lennox, get your men under control."

Wheeljack shifts, and Toby catches the other Autobots as they stiffen at the insult thrown her way. She makes a vague gesture to the scientist, and grips his servo as he lowers her to the ground.

Sliding off smoothly, the young woman stands, strolling casually towards the two people. The slight expression of surprise on the woman's face gives her a small feeling of satisfaction, especially upon the realisation that, amazingly, she is actually taller than this stranger in heels.

"Was there something you needed, ma'am?" Toby crosses her arms, raising a brow as she considers this new person's place in the playing field of politics and military organisations.

"Ah, Hills," Lennox greets. "This is Director Charlotte Mearing."

A spark lights behind the young medic's eyes, and she nods, hiding her distaste behind a small quirk of her lips. She really doesn't like these people that the government keeps sending NEST.

"My apologies, ma'am." Toby presses her lips in a firm line, forcing herself to remain diplomatic. "I had no idea."

She holds out her servo to the Director, allowing the woman to absorb the fact that she is not human. However, Mearing does not take her servo with her own hand, and instead gives her a look akin to the glare one gives a piece of filth on their shoe.

"Why are you not in uniform, soldier?"

The detached tone of her voice sends a shard of ice into Toby's heart, forcing her to keep her frustration at bay. Straightening, she gives a quick glance to her attire. Not the best, she mentally agrees.

"I was not informed that I was required to be," she grinds out, forcing a smile. "I have been in the med bay until just now, and did not have the time to dress the part."

"Hills is our second Autobot medic," Lennox informs the Director, trying to break the sour air intensifying between the two women. "The others demanded that she be present for this."

"Speaking of," Toby turns to where Optimus remains unmoving. "Optimus! Make yourself presentable!"

A deep frown crosses her features when he makes no response, and she turns to Mirage for answers as he makes a silencing motion with his servo. Caught in the act, the white and blue mech freezes, his invisibility field fluxing as he meets her eyes. Venting, he explains to her in the vaguest terms he can manage, "He's not talking to anybody today."

"What is this, the silent treatment?" Mearing jabs at Optimus, her words grinding against Toby's physical restraint.

Before Toby can speak, and possibly shatter what good terms the Autobots have with the government, Ironhide interjects, "We've seen that, and this is not that." With a side-long glance at the young medic, he walks up to the Prime and knocks a fist on the top of his cab. "This is much worse. Prime! Make something of yourself!"

The humans in the area take a cautionary step back as Optimus transforms, steam hissing from his pipes as he stands. Even to Toby, who has spent the last four years in his constant presence, is startled by the fury in his movements. It seems that he, like herself, is growing tired of the government's constant secrets.

"You lied to us," the raw emotion in his words is enough to make everyone tremble as he directs his anger at Director Mearing. "Everything humans know of our planet we were told had all been shared. So why was this found in human possession?"

Toby blinks, and after a moment, recognises the item he is pointing to. The engine piece. The object that she could have so easily died while collecting, and she knows that two soldiers did die on that mission.

Mearing, to her credit, only looks mildly disturbed by the behavior of the leader of the Autobots. "We were in the dark on this also. It was Director Only clearance at Sector Seven until now."

"Things like this should not be kept in dusty corners for us to sweep up!" Toby snaps, wincing as she throws her shoulder. "Surely that must be common knowledge by now? It has been four years, after all."

Lennox throws her a warning look, all too aware of what might follow her outburst. However, it's clear to see in his eyes; he agrees with her.

Mearing ignores her, turning instead to her over laden assistant, who Toby feels a stab of sympathy for. "The bag."

The poor lady immediately grows embarrassingly panicked as she fumbles to figure out which of the many bags it is that the Director desires. Confused and humiliated, she looks over to Mearing and in a hushed voice, asks, "Which bag?"

Toby, for all her patience, cannot be bothered enough to listen to the little dispute the two women have between themselves, stepping closer to Optimus to distance herself. She has reached her limit of stupidity, and to think that she's only been in the hangar for five minutes.

While Mearing organises herself once more, Toby scowls, tilting her head a little as she listens. What is that, that thing she can hear? It sounds like-

A small force collides with the back of her legs, and the young woman waves her arms about in an attempt to balance herself. After regaining her balance, she looks behind her at the little thing clutching to her leg with alarming strength.

A small sigh leaves her lips, exasperated but amused as she recognises the fluffy black attire that is only ever seen on one individual. "Hello there, Aquarius. What are you doing out?"

Her son doesn't say a word, only babbling quietly as he points behind him, his onesie hood falling off his helm. Then he pats her leg, his little signal for wanting up.

Toby, being the loving mother she is, complies, lifting him as best she can to her hip, where he snuggles close to her. Chuckling softly, she pulls his hood back over his helm and carefully tucks in his fins. The big ears of the Toothless onesie shift with every twitch of his little audial fins, and if anything, add to his adorable appearance.

"Frenzy, it better not have been you," she calls behind her, only paying attention to Aquarius so she can keep him from chewing on her hair. "You know how hard it is to get him to sleep."

There's an awkward chuckle as the ex-cassette nervously approaches the young woman. He has changed significantly since his time with her in Egypt, now being just as tall as Aquarius himself and having acquired the necessary bulk of armour, he actually looks like he belongs on base. Of course, his extraordinary health does not excuse allowing a sparkling to run around base.

The woman gives him a quick disappointed gaze, before returning her attention to Mearing as she pulls out a bundle of files, completely oblivious to the two newest members of the meeting. Ratchet, however, gives the sparkling in his charge's arms a wary look.

Mearing, continuing on like nothing ever happened, gestures to one of the side doors into the hangar. "This is a secret few men knew, and fewer still remain alive. Allow me to please introduce to you, two of NASA's founding mission directors and astronaut Dr. Buzz Aldrin, one of the first two men to step foot on the moon. Sir? Optimus Prime."

Toby's eyes widen comically, her jaw dropping open as one of her childhood idols walks into the room. She may have never wanted to go to the moon, but she revered anyone even remotely involved with the space race. To meet Buzz Aldrin, she would consider the experience to be equivalent to her encounter with Primus, which she feels her mother would laugh at.

"From a fellow space traveler, it's a true honor," Aldrin greets the Autobot leader, not quite as unaware of the gaping woman as she might like.

Immediately, Optimus drops his hostile attitude, resuming his place of diplomacy as he returns the greeting to the human that has traversed so far from home, "The honor is mine."

Toby blinks as two servos place themselves on her stabilizer, her awe finally subsiding as the touch brings her back to the present. At her feet, Frenzy peers around her at the newcomers to the base, uncertain and not quite trusting of them. In a small action of comfort, Toby rubs his helm with her servo.

"According to our most recent sources," Mearing walks up to one of the catwalks, a miracle that her heels don't catch in the grating, "our entire space race of the 1960's, it appears, was in response to an event."

At this small tidbit of information, Toby perks right up, drawing the attention of several 'bots and NEST officers. This is knowledge she can recall her mother telling her as a child; something that Margret Hills had been fascinated by and studied for years afterwards.

"Our astronauts investigated a crashed alien ship," one of the officers folds his hands behind his back. "To our knowledge, there were no survivors on board."

"We were sworn to secrecy by our Commander in Chief," Aldrin tells them, a somewhat grave tone underlying in his voice.

"A total of thirty five people knew the real plan at NASA."

"And at least one additional," the young woman whispers to Frenzy, a small smile on her lips at the familiar knowledge. He nods with childish fascination, his servos tightening on the fabric of her trousers as he clings to what she says.

"Soviets managed to land unmanned probes. Somehow they must have... picked up that fuel rod." The NASA officer speaking fumbles with his words, apparently not overly sure how to describe the alien tech.

"We believe the Russians deduced that the rod was a fissionable fuel assembly, believed they had it mastered and tried to harness it at Chernobyl."

"I could have told you that," Toby mumbles to herself, feeling a bit miffed but generally quite pleased with her own deduction.

"We landed six missions in all. We took hundreds of photos and samples. We locked them away forever when the moon program was shut down."

Ironhide steps forward from aside with a scowl, his gaze locked on the group of NASA workers. "Well, did you search the crash vault?"

Being familiar with the basic schematics of a cybertronian vessel, Toby understands what the mech is asking, but a glance at any of the humans on the catwalk tells of their confusion. She rolls her eyes at him, and turns her attention to Ratchet, raising a brow of expectancy. Perhaps he will provide an answer to their questions.

However, it is not Ratchet who answers, but Wheeljack, "Every cybertronian ship has a crash vault in the case of an emergency. Mecha have been known to shelter within it in a form of deep stasis."

"And there they remain until rescue," Ratchet adds his input, giving Toby a sidelong glance after saying his part.

"The ship's name was the Ark."

The humans in the hangar take a moment to pause, mostly taking their own time to process the knowledge, however, Toby is rather taken aback by the sorrow in Optimus' voice. Had she not grown familiar with the emotionless tone he chose to use so often, she might not have caught it, yet here she can catch the underlying whisper of war-ravaged memory. It's sobering, and she gets the feeling that the Ark was more than just an Autobot war-vessel.

"I watched it escape Cybertron myself." Optimus continues once more, his slipping emotions now hidden away. "It was carrying an Autobot technology which would have won us the war." He pauses, glancing at Ratchet for a prolonged moment. "And its captain."

Mearing frowns, leaning closer to the Autobot leader with cautious interest. "Who was its captain?"

"The great Sentinel Prime." The Prime is all too aware of the hush that goes through his team. "Former commander of the Autobots. It is imperative that I find it before the Decepticons learn of its location. Our Autobot spacecraft has the ability to get there. And you must pray it's in time."

Toby swallows thickly, releasing a slow breath. Ratchet had taken the time to tell her the history of Cybertron some time ago, and during his retelling, he had become quite animated when describing a space bridge. The Autobot Perceptor had designed and built every piece alongside his partner Brainstorm. It was made for the purpose of ferrying resources and allies from one end of the galaxy to another, but since the Ark had disappeared, the technology had never been able to be used. With it, the war might have already been won.

Pushing the thoughts aside, the young woman steps forward, knowing that informing Lennox about the technology's use would have to wait a little longer. "How long might it take to get the Xantium up and running?" she asks Wheeljack, knowing that she is most likely to receive an actual answer from him.

"Approximately two hours," he tells her after a long moment. He vents, sparing a glance over at Mearing on the catwalk. "Assuming we get government approval, that is."

"Right," she nods, frowning up at the director, "so we need to sort that out immediately."

"And you are not going to be doing the sorting out," a voice beside her says softly, her reaction being to elbow the person in the stomach.

The man groans, placing a hand on his knee as he wheezes from the blow. Toby does similar, a strained breath passing her lips as she suffers for her surprise. At her feet, Frenzy hides his face plates in her cargo pants, muffling his giggle of amusement.

"Isn't there a rule for sneaking up on someone with metal limbs?" Toby grunts, grimacing as she straightens. "I'm sure you'll find it somewhere in the NEST handbook."

"I wish I learnt from my mistakes," the man says, rubbing his belly with a sour expression. "But did you really have to hit so hard?"

"Sorry, Lennox," she shrugs weakly, not really meaning it. "You should have known."

The Colonel scowls, straightening his uniform before clearing his throat. "As I was saying, you are not assigned to liaison duty. Currently, you have time to yourself."

Toby scowls at him, puzzled by his reasons for telling her this. Just as she opens her mouth, however, Lennox is quick to interrupt.

"While your intentions are understandable, Hills, if I don't inform you, you will work yourself to the bone."

Not what she initially wanted to hear, certainly. Especially knowing that now it has been said, Ratchet is staring at her with an almost threatening expression.

She sighs, glancing briefly at her guardian before returning her gaze to her superior. "Fine," she spits, submitting to the order. "But I want to be updated on whatever progress is made, got it?"

"Loud and clear," Lennox tells her, nodding with acknowledgement as he walks off toward the catwalk.

Toby frowns after him, patting a sleepy Aquarius on the back as she considers her next course of action. Her son whines quietly, nuzzling his faceplates into her shoulder for warmth. It makes her smile, and the woman chuckles softly at him, rubbing his back struts with her servo. His exhaustion makes up her mind about what to do next, and she knows she'll have to be quick.

But instead of leaving the young medic to take initiative, the former astronaut approaches her, having caught sight of her and her surprising company the moment he walked in. Buzz Aldrin has dealt with far too many government officials within the last hour, all of which have answered none of his questions. Aliens, he already knew existed, but his knowledge of them is minimal at best and his patience is thinning.

Besides, it would hardly do to disappoint someone so awed by his presence, rather than the beings that fill the hangar.

"Doctor Aldrin," the woman greets, her voice rising an octave as she meets his eyes. "I didn't expect you to-uh-come down here. Is there anything you need?"

The former astronaut smiles at her kindly, "Currently? No. I just wished to know the name of the only other sane human here."

She blinks at his words before a grin splits her face and she sticks out her servo. "Toby Hills, sir. But I'm afraid I don't fit the criteria, you see, I'm not human."

"Well I suppose that's all right," Aldrin says with humour. "You seem sane enough."

At that, Toby shoots him a wry grin. "'Seem' is a very important word, sir. Besides, I don't think anyone sane would go to the moon in a tin can."

"It was a very specialised tin can," he humours her, pretending that his attention isn't caught by the little one in her arms.

"A tin can is a tin can," she argues carefully, eyeing him carefully now that she's caught his brief glance at her son. "Sir," she begins, "it's an honour to meet you. I've been waiting for this moment for quite some time, since I was a little girl, actually. 'The man that reached the stars,' and I always thought, 'I'm the girl that sees the universe.' How fitting it seems that I meet you face-to-face."

"You said your name was Hills?" Aldrin queries with genuine curiosity, his brow scrunched with a slight scowl.

"Yessir." Toby doesn't miss how his eyes flash with confused recognition. She's willing to bet her mother had managed to involve herself with the NASA crew during the event.

He clears his head with a near unnoticeable shake, blinking to regain his thoughts. As he does this, the little being in the young woman's arms makes a tired whine, shifting so that it finds comfort.

Curious, yet intrigued by her character, he queries again, "Who might this be?"

Toby smiles softly, looking down at her son with fondness. "This is Aquarius. He's under my care."

She's careful not to mention the minor detail of being the mechling's biological parent, having experienced far too many poor reactions to bother pointing it out to the man she has looked up to since she was four. Also taking a precaution, she hides his faceplates with his hood a bit more, having absolutely no desire for him to start screaming merely for the fact that he does not recognise Buzz Aldrin.

"I see," although clearly still curious, the former astronaut visibly backs off, recognising that she is not comfortable saying any more. "It was a pleasure, Doctor Hills."

Toby smirks a bit at that, amused by the unfortunately incorrect title. "Miss, actually, but Toby should do just fine." She smiles again, her awe still visible but withheld. "Thank you, sir. It was an honour."

And then she watches as he leaves, a small smile still on her lips while she revisits short memories of her childhood. The good times, not the bad. Just remembering the sense of innocence she had before her mother died. Remembering being as free as Aquarius, without the weights of grief and adulthood. Recalling what it was like to be herself.

"Come on, then," she tells Frenzy, smiling warmly. "Let's get the two of you comfortable, yeah?"

★★★★★★★★★

At long last! I am so terribly sorry for the delay, but I hit quite the block! Hopefully now things will go along smoother.

You might have noticed a few minor changes to the bayverse lore. This is because I do not like this film, and as a result, I am twisting things to my liking.

I hope you stick around for the next chapter, whenever that ends up being!