Autobot-7712 Apr 2026

“Did you find her?” Javelin asked.

“Command says we’ve got a deserter,” she said, her voice flat over the comm. “Autobot-7712, you’re the closest to the last known location. Go bring them in.”

“She left her post without orders. That’s the definition,” Javelin replied. “Bring her in, Zero. Or don’t come back.”

7712 stayed there for a long time. When the storm cleared, he used his own hands to dig a grave in the ash and dust. He buried her under a pile of scrap metal—not a marker, but a cairn. He did not take her insignia. He did not report her location. autobot-7712

And then the light went out.

He walked back to Outpost Theta-9 alone.

Her optics brightened for just a moment. A genuine flicker of light. “Did you find her

The designation was , but the mechs on the front lines called him “Zero.”

“You left,” he said, kneeling beside her. His medical training was nonexistent, but even he could see the damage. Her core energon lines were leaking—a slow, fatal drip. “Why did you leave?”

“They already did,” she whispered. “I’m not Petal anymore. I’m Unit-512. A malfunctioning piece of equipment.” Go bring them in

“She’s not a deserter,” 7712 said quietly.

He went alone. That was his choice. Sunder and Runnel watched him go from the trench lip, their optics unreadable.

He thought about the cargo clamps. About her laugh. About the way she had recalibrated the pressure seals with such care, even though no one was watching.

7712’s job was simple. Every third cycle, he walked the eastern supply trench, checked the pressure seals on the reserve energon cubes, and reported back. It was a two-klick round trip through terrain that had been bombed so many times it no longer resembled a planet’s surface—just sharp-edged craters and fine gray dust that got into every joint.

Javelin looked at him for a long moment. Then she turned away. “Log it as MIA. Get some recharge, Zero.”