Seibertron.com Energon Pub Forums

Message from First Aid to Hot Spot

To Hot Spot's query concerning the med bay's patients:

>>"Sorry, Hot Spot. The patients in the Med Bay; Ricochet is recovering in a CR Chamber. Warpath is the same. Howlstrike…his surgery was successful and he should be out of the CR Chamber in the next two mega-cycles.<<

There was a short pause…

>> “And you know what happened with Tonton and Bidder."<<

Another pause...

>>"I’m heading back to the Guardian’s Bounce Chamber now."<<

Message from Springer to Hot Spot

>>”Springer to Hot Spot. I need you and your Protectobot Team to meet me over in the Ark-22’s Bounce Chamber. I assume you’ve heard Magnus’s speech by now so it won’t be too hard to guess why I need ya’ over here. Anyways, get over here as soon as possible. Springer out.”<<

Hot Spot received the message from Springer. It seems things are finally ready to begin.

>>Hot Spot to Springer, my team is already in the bounce chamber of the Guardian. It may be simpler to bounce from both ships with a nanoclick delay to insure we don't bounce in the exact location. All we need is the coordinates and we will meet you down there.<<

Hot Spot looks back over his troops and gives them a nod.

Message from Springer to Hot Spot

>>"Understood Hot Spot, thanks for the update. Don't get too comfy, we should be leaving here soon. I'll keep you guys informed and deliver the coordinates for the bounce as soon as I can."<<

Bounce Chamber

During his entire run through the corridors of the Ark-22 to the Guardian, First Aid’s thoughts floated from the Fallen to the worry of just how they would be able to help their friends. Clearing his mind he turned the final corner and entered the bounce chamber.

Hot Spot and the rest of the team had already assembled and were waiting on him and Springer’s comm…which seemed to have arrived.

“Sorry, Hot Spot. I got a bit hung up.” First Aid said as he stepped up to the commanding officer. “I won’t let it happen again.” His voice lowered as his head and shoulders dropped. “I take it, sir that this has something to do with Hot Rod and the others?”

Bounce Chamber

"It is, in a round about way, First Aid. Commander Magnus is wanting to discuss a truce with the Cons in order to combat the Cons. We, along with Springer's team, will be setting up a temporary camp for the meeting with the Cons. As we all know, the Cons can't be trusted for too long of a time so having as many mechs as Commander Magnus has selected should hopefully ensure little fighting. The biggest concern is which Con will be there representing their faction."

After updating First Aid, Hot Spot received the coordinates from Springer. He walks off the pad and over to the terminal. Then he punched in the coordinates.

"Make sure Springer and his troops have moved enough so we don't drop on top of them. We don't need any debacle on this trip."

The bounce chamber chief nodded as Hot Spot got back onto the pad. The Protectobots all glowed and in matter of a few nanoclicks, were off the ship and onto Earth.

(Continued on Earth, somewhere)

Medical Bay

Off in a far corner of the med bay a lone CR chamber rested in an upright position. The mech within was still healing from the severe wounds that had been inflicted upon him by another fellow Autobot. He had been within the nanite rich fluid for many cycles, too many to count. During that time, within his own processor, he had relived the final moments before stasis lock had overtaken him. It would be something that he would never forget and, more importantly, never forgive.

Finally, the repair cycle ended as the CR unit’s control panel sounded a series of beeps before falling silent once more. The inner chamber then emptied of the fluid surrounding the newly healed mech before the door opened with a hiss, allowing the air from the med bay to pour inside. The mech stirred as his optics slowly came back online. He reached up with one hand to rub the side of his cranial unit, or perhaps it was the check to make sure it was still there. Either way, consciousness steadily returned to him as did the rage within.

“Hardhead,” Howlstrike muttered in a low growl as he stepped out of the CR chamber and glanced around the med bay, now fully aware of his surroundings. “Where...is...Hardhead?!” The former Predacon demanded as he lowered his arm, clenching both clawed hands into tight fists. There was no sign of the large, green traitor anywhere nearby. Perhaps he had been captured and was being held in the brig, or maybe he had escaped with Rodimus and the other rebel Autobots. It didn’t matter, Howl would find Hardhead wherever he was, and then the hunter would make him pay for what he had done. “Aaarrrrrgggghhhhh!!!!!!!” the Autobot tracker roared with a vengeful fury that could only be surpassed by few others. His outburst startled several nearby medical drones, who stopped and turned suddenly to see what the commotion was all about.

“Do you require assistance?” One of the drones inquired, approaching the enraged former Predacon.

Howlstrike glared down at the mechanoid as though it was Hardhead, himself. “Do I look like I need assistance?” The hunter swatted the annoying drone aside with his left hand before assuming his wolf mode and running out of the med bay and into the corridor beyond.

Corridors

The mechanical wolf roamed the mostly deserted halls, keeping his snout up to sniff the air as he searched the Guardian for his prey. Unfortunately, he could not detect Hardhead’s scent anywhere, which could only mean that the traitor was no longer on board. Howl had been out of action for quite some time, so the possibility came as no surprise to him. It was then that he noticed on a nearby wall monitor a message from Ultra Magnus being broadcast and repeated over all channels. It confirmed that Hardhead and the other heralds were somewhere down on the planet below and were apparently possessed by the Fallen’s power. That explained a lot, but it changed little as far as the ex-Predacon was concerned. Hardhead would still pay.

First, however, Howlstrike needed to get down planet side since that is apparently where the Fallen and his heralds were located. In order to do that, he needed to find Kup and Ultra Magnus so he could be included on whatever mission to counter this new threat was currently being put together. The former Predacon was about to open a comm line to his old friend when he suddenly picked up the sound of weapons fire and yelling. Howl cocked his wolf head towards the source of the noise and found that it was coming from the other end of an adjacent corridor.

The timber wolf let out a deep growl before racing down the adjoining hallway and ultimately stopping directly in front of the doors to the engine room. He immediately returned to robot mode and pulled out his energo sword, pressing his right audio receptor against the closed door. There was no more sound, but Howlstrike was positive that the commotion had come from within. The Autobot hunter took a step back and punched his security clearance into the control panel on the wall. The doors opened and Howl carefully stepped inside.

Engine Room

The Autobot hunter peered around the vast chamber and quickly noticed that several of the Autobot engineers were strewn about across the floor. Howlstrike knelt down next to the nearest one and checked his vitals. There were none, and the mech was not in stasis, either. He was dead with a gapping, smoldering hole in his chest that passed all the way through to the other side. Where his spark should be was empty space. The other poor souls had faired no better, some with huge holes in their chest cavities while others appeared to have been fed through a giant shredder. And then there were those whose bodies were crushed into something unrecognizable as though gravity, itself, was to blame.

Howlstrike stood up and approached another engineer who was lying in pieces and quickly noticed numerous shinny objects resting on the floor next to him. The hunter bent down and picked up one of the objects which appeared to be some kind of diamond-hard shard. Wait an astrosec... Howl thought as he brought the shard closer to his olfactory sensors. The former Predacon’s optics widened as he immediately identified the scent. Dropping the shard to the floor, Howl spun around to see a yellow mech standing several yards from his position.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting someone else?” The former Stunticon asked with a devilish smirk plastered across his faceplate.

“What? How did you get on board? Where’s Hardhead? I know he’s here. I can smell him!” Howlstrike demanded, bringing his sword up to bare. Drag Strip gave no response as he slowly backed away until he was shrouded in darkness. “Where are you going? Come back here!” The former Predacon lunged forward but was then stopped in his tracks as an explosive shell suddenly shot by him and struck the first quantum generator to his left side. The resulting detonation propelled him back through the air until his body hit a nearby wall. Falling to the floor in a crumpled heap, Howlstrike’s cranial circuits were severely rattled but he was not in stasis again.

Out of the shadows, Hardhead emerged, his back-mounted 120mm cannon smoking from the tip. “Oh, Howlstrike, you will never learn, will you?” The large, green herald said with an evil chuckle as Drag Strip appeared by his side. “Didn’t your master, Kup, ever teach you never to bring a sword to a gun fight? I suppose not. Heh.”

The yellow ‘Con let out a laugh as he brought his gravito gun to bare. “Should I finish him off, Hardhead? We could watch as his body is crushed into oblivion!”

“No, no, let him live,” Hardhead responded plainly. “He can tell the others what happened here. Fear not, though, he’ll soon succumb to the same fate as the rest of those vile Cybertronians. I wouldn’t want to deny Howlstrike the sheer suffering he will endure. Ha ha ha!”

“True. Although, he seemed hellbent on finding you.”

“That’s because he wants revenge for when I double decapitated him.”

“Double decapitated?” Drag Strip asked with a quizzical look on his faceplate.

“Yes, I chopped his wolf head off when he was in beast mode, using his own sword, and in the process also severed his robot head underneath. It was a sight to behold,” Hardhead responded proudly.

“I’m sure.”

“Now, let’s finish what we started, shall we? You take out generators 3 and 4 while I take out number 2.”

“Sounds good to me!” Drag Strip said excitedly as he moved away from the ex-Predacon and transformed into his Dodge Viper SRT-10 alt mode. The former Stunticon leveled his plasma energy blaster directly at generators 3 and 4 and immediately unleashed a pair of energy balls at both targets. Upon impact, the quantum engines exploded into a fiery display that only the Fallen, himself, could match. Meanwhile, Hardhead used his shatter blasters to sufficiently disable generator 2.

“We’re done here,” Hardhead stated plainly as Drag Strip returned to robot mode and nodded. A short distance away, Howlstrike pulled himself to his feet and leaned back against the wall he had just landed against. The former Predacon’s optics cleared as he looked directly at Hardhead who stood amongst the fiery ruin of the engines. “Until next time, Howl...” the green herald promised as he transmitted a set of Earth bound coordinates straight into Howl’s processor before the fire then engulfed both Hardhead and Drag Strip.

“Nooo!!!” Howlstrike shouted as the Fallen’s two heralds disappeared from sight and thus the hunter’s vengeance was left unsatisfied. “Slaggit!!” The former Predacon was forced towards the door as smoke and flames licked his heals. Before his exited the room, though, Howl managed to pull the fire lever on the wall, activating the Halon system. As the tracker reached the safety of the corridor and the engine room doors slid shut behind him, he opened a comm line to both Kup and Ultra Magnus:

>>”Kup, Commander Magnus, this is Howlstrike over on the Guardian! Hardhead and Drag Strip were just here in the engine room. They’ve killed the entire engineering crew and taken out all four of the generators! I tried to stop them, but I failed and now we’re dead in space! I’ve initiated the fire suppression system inside the engine room. That should put the flames out soon, but the damage has already been done. Hardhead also gave me coordinates before him and Drag Strip disappeared. Not sure what they are, but I'm transmitting them to you now.”<<

With the transmission sent, Howlstrike leaned back against the far wall and ran a quick medical diagnostic on himself. All things considered, he was in good shape. A few dents and scorch marks on his outer hide to speak of but nothing to worry about and nothing that would keep him from seeking revenge on the Fallen and his heralds, whether they be possessed or not.

Corridors

Eject had spent so much time chatting away with one of his biggest (biggest being relative really) idols, Glock, that the passage of time had become quite the blur. It was only when the lights of the Guardian flicked and extinguished that Eject pause for a moment a look about with a troubled expression. A power outage was extremely odd....and as the emergency lights flooded the corridors with a crimson glow, Eject decided that he would be needed at Blaster's side.

"It's been a real slam dunk talking to you, Glock, but I gotta run the ball up the middle and get back to Blaster. He's probably got the ball in the bridge of the 22. I'll catch ya later!"

Eject waved good-bye to Glock with his usual cheer and jogged away from the femme and toward the docking rings. He checked his internal clock to see just how long of a half time he had allotted to himself. The numbers...were pretty stunning. He had ought to foul himself for a delay of game!

"I'm coming, Blaster," Eject muttered, "Don't bench me just yet!"

Cargo Bay - Boarding Tube to Shuttle Longevity

With orders from the big bot himself, Mr. Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, the bulky train-former began loading up the supply crates that were transferred to the Guardian moments ago via the frigate's deck crew. The heavy crates were not much of an issue for Railway, having once been a transporter of materials back on Cybertron, during the glory days before the war broke out.

"Is there any other way I could load these bad boys up?" He asked to his crewmate Scoop, "This tube really isn't helping my claustrophobia..."

For being a bot so brave that he'd be willing to spit in Typticon's face and try and stop the onslaught that would follow it, he just couldn't muster the courage to handle tight spaces. He set the shipment next to the doorway's opening and walked back over to the pile of crates and readied another one.

"How about- *huff* -I carry them over, and you- *huff* -load them into the shuttle?" He asked as he lifted another crate into his arms. "Sorry, just can't do tight spaces."

As the former gladiator was hoisting the supply-filled container to the port of the boarding tube connecting the frigate to the shuttle, the Special Operations Director, Jazz, walked in through the blast doors of the cargo bay area.

"What's shaking my brotha's from another mothaboard?" He greeted as he approached the boarding tube. "I take it y'all heard Magnus' orders?"

"'Fraid so Jazz," Railway stated, setting the crate down. "Here to help?"

"More like oversee preperations, but if you two need a actuator I'm more than willing to lend one."

Jazz walked over to the side of the crate and began tugging on its side, attempting to pull the crate into the boarding tube. The crate barely moved a couple of feet each time he tugged at the ends of the crate.

"Ey Scoop!" Jazz wheezed, "Mind helping me tug this thing in?" He asked with a fist clenched shut and his thumb pointing back towards the Longevity's cargo bay through the tube.

Medical Bay

Leaning against one of the walls of the medical bay, the slate blue harrier jet stared up at the ceiling. Where blue optics once used to reside, black empty sockets remained protected by a transparent glass barrier. The world was a black nothingness. An abyss that had no shape or form. A void. Oblivion. Or would have been, if it had not been for the mech's specially modified sonar package which gave the world shapes that his processor could interpret, recognizable forms realized out of the reverberations off of them.

Blind though he was, Blindside could still 'see' everything. The examination slab just to his left. The entire room from all angles. He could see himself leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He could see the prone form of Warpath as he struggled to recover from his most recent decapitation. He could see the form of his dear friend keeping a constant vigil on the incapacitated Warpath.

"How is he doing, Veneer?" Blindside asked for what must've been the umpteenth time, as the blind tactician tried to break the somewhat comfortable silence. "Any change?"

Blindside turned his head to look at Veneer as he spoke to the nurse though he did not need to. It was more of a reflex than anything, a habit from the days when he could still see through traditional means. It was just as well too. When he didn't turn to look at the person he was talking to, they often ended up confused or, at the very least, disconcerted.

Feeling a little bored, it was all Blindside could do to make a little small talk here and there to alleviate it. He had opted to keep his friend company while he stood sentinel over the recovering Warpath and Howlstrike, the latter of whom had gotten to his feet and rushed out in a huff. He enjoyed these quiet moments of peace with Veneer. Well...relative peace. With the Fallen looming over their heads, there was only so much peace that a mind could find.

Yes...the Fallen....Blindside looked down at the floor. They could use his skill set down on Earth once they were able to locate him. However...he wasn't quite sure how to tell Veneer. The nurse would surely refuse to let him go. Ah, well. It wasn't pressing at the moment. He had some time to figure out a way to break it to him.

>>”To all able-bodied Autobots not currently assigned to anything important, this is Bluestreak. I assume you have all heard the recent message from Ultra Magnus regarding the Fallen and his heralds and the threat that they pose to all of us. Our new commander has instructed Smokescreen and I to gather as many of you as possible for deployment within the next two breems. Meet us down in the Ark-22’s armory ASAP in order to get combat ready. Howlstrike, wherever you are now, drop what you’re doing and meet us over here. We’re going to need you on this assignment. We’ll brief you more once you arrive. Bluestreak out."<<

Or...not. As the message from Bluestreak buzzed through the upper frequencies, Blindside pushed off from the wall and let his hands fall to his sides, avoiding to turn his head toward Veneer. Reluctantly, Blindside turned his head in Veneer's direction. "I..."

Medical Bay

The datapad he’d been hold was gently placed back down on the table beside Warpath’s medical slab. The warrior had been through a lot. A fight that included several of their own and then he was decapitated. Veneer laid his hand lightly on the stasis locked mech’s shoulder plate.

Veneer took a quick glance in the direction of the CR chambers. Earlier Howlstrike had emerged and rather hastily made his way out of the med bay. The thought crossed his mind to go after him, but he remembered he wanted to live.

After a moment Veneer return his attention fully on the prostrate Warpath. From behind him, leaning against the wall, he could feel the presence of Blindside. It wasn’t unusual. In fact he and Blindside could often be found in one another’s company.

"How is he doing, Veneer?" Blindside asked for what must've been the umpteenth time, as the blind tactician tried to break the somewhat comfortable silence. "Any change?"

That was the fourth time. Veneer reached over to a tray and picked up a dusting cloth. From the table he grabbed a small can and squirted a small amount of cleanser on the rag. “He’s better, Blindside,” he said as he wiped some grit from Warpath’s faceplate. “He had good doctors helping him.” Veneer sat back and studied the area he had just cleaned. “Now all he has to do is continue to fight.”

Veneer often pushed patients to keep giving it their all to never give up or give in. It was something Blindside was familiar with.

The room settled back into silence. The only sounds coming from the intermittent beeps and buzzing from all the various equipment. To most this silence could be deafening. But Veneer would often find solace in the calm. Being a nurse he was usually posted in the medical wards late in the evenings when most of the staff was gone.

Veneer placed his hand back down on Warpath’s shoulder. The Fallen. He was not the direct cause of this mech’s injury, but he had a hand in it. Veneer sighed. Reaching out he took the datapad back up.

Although his optics remained glued to the screen, Veneer’s mind began to wander. He knew that some sort of call to arms would be given which, in turn, would catch Blindside’s attention. And then he’d go off leaving Veneer to wonder and wait.

As if on cue the communique from Bluestreak broke through the calm. Veneer listened. He knew what was coming. He offlined his optics….

Reluctantly, Blindside turned his head in Veneer's direction. "I..."

“No,” was Veneer’s response. After a moment’s pause his optics onlined and he spun his chair around to face Blindside. “Please.”

Shuttle Longevity - Docking Boon

The lights erupted from the interior of the Longevity as the computer began to cycle through its automated preflight check list. Though it would require the verification and recheck of a sentient, to start the procedure would save valuable time. Small metallic buds began to crawl down from compartments along the Docking Boon. They lined up along the floor, connecting the Longevity to the larger cargo hold of the Frigate Guardian. The buds spaced themselves and elongated themselves. Magnetic chains began to link through electrical meshes. After a few more moments the anti gravity conveyor was set into place and functional.

Scoop popped his head out of the shuttle hatch and offered a friendly wave to Railway and Jazz as they began their effort to load the shuttle. "I am sure that this should ease the burden my friends." He said with his patented good natured smile.

The soldier stepped over one of the anti gravity buds and carefully made his way down through the narrow path linking both vessels. He stepped off into the relatively spacious interior of the Guardian. He transformed into vehicle form and bored his shovel underneath the largest pile of crates and supplies. Gently he lifted them up and pivoted along his axis. "No worries Railway. This link isn't that long, just close your optics and ride the gravity wave to the primary vessel." He churned his primary driving wheels and pressed up upon the gravity belt.

He waited as the soft waves of electromagnetic pulses pushed his increased mass into the Longevity's primary hold. Once there he drove off and set the supplies down along the furthest wall. He reverted to robot form and reset the formation so they were more stable, ensuring to place the ammunition crates in an easy to access location of the supply dump.

Returning to the Guardian, Scoop gave a friendly nod to the two other Autobots. "That should be a good start." He turned to Jazz, his smile broadening. "No sir, Magnus did not order me here. I heard the explosion in the engine room, I investigated and heard that our friends had been involved in the sabotage. It was all I needed to hear... Preflight checks are nearly complete, just pending your verification and approval."

The infantry mech stepped down off of the loading planks and headed towards a smaller stack of energon cubes. He hefted the whole pallet, as it was not too heavy, and carried the entire mass to the mouth of the anti gravity conveyor. "We should hurry and finish this loading process before the commander and the others arrive. I am sure that they will want to depart as soon as possible."

Medical Bay

“No," was Veneer’s response.

Shot down.

After a moment’s pause his optics onlined and he spun his chair around to face Blindside. “Please."

Blindside gestured helplessly at Veneer. What did the nurse expect from him? He was a tactician. A soldier. He couldn't sit on the sidelines and help the cause like Veneer could, nor did he want to. It wasn't his place. Veneer knew that as much as he would've preferred for the blind Autobot to remain behind in safety. He had to know that.

"I have to go, Veneer. They need me down there. They need everyone they can get."

Blindside walked over to Veneer and leaned down so that they would both be on optic level. For all that it mattered to Blindside. Being at optic level with Veneer was more for the nurse's benefit than his. The blind tactician rested an actuator on Veneer's shoulder plating and gave the nurse a reassuring shake.

"I'll come back," Blindside promised, knowing full well he had no right to make such a vow, "I always have before, haven't I? Besides...if we don't stop the Fallen here and now, he'll drive our race to extinction. I have to fight. For those who can't."

Blindside stood back and rose to his full height once more and gestured pleadingly at Veneer.

"Please."

Medical Bay

"I have to go, Veneer. They need me down there. They need everyone they can get."

He knew. Deep down in his spark he knew Blindside was right. But that did not mean he would give up without a fight. Time and time again Blindside would argue his side, and time and time again Veneer would ultimately give in to his friend’s solid reasoning.

Veneer exhaled heavily. This familiar song and dance was exhausting. He always wound up losing. Blindside would leave and he would be left alone. He’d worry. He’d wish he had fought harder.

The thoughts of the last campaign Blindside was involved in were pushed to back of his processor when the blind bot walked over and leaned down. Veneer’s optics met the protective glass coving set over the empty sockets.

"I'll come back," Blindside promised. "I always have before, haven't I? Besides...if we don't stop the Fallen here and now, he'll drive our race to extinction. I have to fight. For those who can't."

A frown formed on the nurse’s face as his close friend rose back up to his full height.

"Please."

Veneer was quiet for a moment his optics moved from Blindside and settled on the floor.

“You can fight from here.” He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest plate. “You don’t need to be in the thick of things to make a difference, Blindside.”

He spread his arms out gesturing to the whole medical bay. “Do you think my work is worth any less than that of a frontline soldier?” He let his hands drop down where they slapped lightly against his legs.

The question he posed hung in the air for a brief moment. In that short period the silence that had settled in earlier returned.

Footsteps broke the quiet as Veneer made his way to stand before Blindside. “My place is here. Here helping from behind the scenes. There’s no reason why you can’t do the same.” A smile worked onto his face as he paced his hand on Blindside’s upper arm. “At least up here I would know that you’re safe.” A wandering thought entered his mind. Veneer smiled and let out a chuckle. “Could you see me in the field?.” A sigh escaped his vocalizer.

>>”Veneer. This is Ratchet. I’m sure you heard the announcement from Bluestreak concerning the Fallen and his followers. This piece of slag has already taken some of our own and in order to stop him we’re going to need everyone’s help. That means I want you down there with us. Gather up as much equipment and supplies you can carry and head over to the Longevity. If necessary grab someone to help you with the supplies.”<<

Veneer's jaw dropped open in disbelief. This could not be happening. "No. No. No. Ratchet can't be serious."

Medical Bay

"You can fight from here. You don’t need to be in the thick of things to make a difference, Blindside. Do you think my work is worth any less than that of a frontline soldier?"

Holding back a sigh from escaping his vocalizer, the blind tactician settled for sighing inwardly as Veneer made his case. It was one that Blindside had heard many a time before. And never did it change his mind or shake his resolve. He did need to be in the thick of things to make a difference. As much as he would love to stay away from the danger for Veneer's sake, he could not stand idly by while good Autobots laid down their lives.

Blindside remained silent, however, knowing anything he added would only work against him right now. He 'saw' Veneer move before he heard the footsteps, the form of his dear friend moved over to stand before him, and placed his hand on the blue jet's upper arm.

“My place is here. Here helping from behind the scenes. There’s no reason why you can’t do the same. At least up here I would know that you’re safe." Veneer smiled and let out a chuckle. “Could you see me in the field?."

A wry smile found its way onto Blindside faceplate and he chuckled. "No. I couldn't, but fortunately you do your work best up here. Where it's safe." As Veneer let out another sigh, Blindside lifted his actuator up to Veneer's faceplate and gently turned it up to look directly at the tactician. "Let me protect you," he said softly before releasing his grip on Veneer.

It was in the next few moments that Veneer's jaw dropped open in disbelief, which, in turn, puzzled the blind Autobot considerably. Surely what he said couldn't be that shocking. Veneer's next statement, however, quickly laid that particular worry to rest and called into being many, many more.

"No. No. No. Ratchet can't be serious."

"What? What is it?" Blindside asked, concern suddenly etched in every facet of his being. He rested his actuators on Veneer's upper arms. "What's wrong, Vee?"

Shuttle Longevity - Docking Boon

Railway took his fellow Autobot's advice and offlined his optics as he pushed the supply crate through the boarding tube of the Longevity. He sorta helped him through his phobia, but he could still feel the tightened corridor wrapped around him.

"Th-Thanks Scoop." The Terror of the Tracks stated wholeheartedly as he managed to load on of the last of the supply containers into the cargo bay of the shuttle.

Jazz rounded the corner of the boarding tube and examined the interior of the Longevity. It must have been astrocycles since he's been inside a shuttle as nice as this one.

"OOOOO-WEE!" The black and white mech exclaimed as he swung himself into one of the command chairs in the "bridge" section of the ship. "Now THIS, is a ship. I'm gonna radio Mags and let him know we're about ready to jet outta here, that good with you two?"

As the Director of Special Operations leaned back in his seat, he opened up a comm line to the red and blue City Commander back on the Ark-22

>>"Jazz to Magnus; Longevity is close to take off status, just waiting on you and your squad to board and go."<<

Medical Bay

"What? What is it?" Blindside asked, concern suddenly etched in every facet of his being. He rested his actuators on Veneer's upper arms. "What's wrong, Vee?"

Veneer kept silent for several moments, his upper arms still in Blindside’s hands. It was laughably ironic, their entire argument the entire conversation really. Speaking to Blindside about staying on board the Guardian. Staying behind fighting the good fight from behind the frontlines...

Veneer smiled shaking his head gently.

“It’s nothing, Blindside.” Veneer said while carefully slipping from his friend’s light hold. Backing away the nurse scooped up a storage container from a shelf. He set it down on a nearby medical slab and began removing items from one of the supply lockers.

The communique sent by the CMO included a very detailed list of what would be needed by the medical staff. Some items were rather typical while a few were a bit more unorthodox.

Picking up a fist full of a highly concentrated and powerful sedative, Veneer looked back to Blindside. A heavy sigh escaped his vocalizer as he placed the vials into the storage container.

“I’m being reassigned.” A low beep sounded from the monitor next to Warpath’s berth. Veneer made his way to the mech’s side and took a look at the screen. A few adjustments and the tone grew silent.

Veneer stood staring down at the Autobot’s still form. “I’m going down to the planet. Ratchet needs me.” Veneer placed a hand on Warpath’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

“He also needs some equipment and supplies.” Turning from his patient he returned to one of the shelves and grabbed a hand full of injectors along with patch kits and welders. Arms full he made his way to the container and placed the items within.

A quick peek back in the box to make sure it was full Veneer grabbed the handles and made his way back to his dear friend. He flashed the blind mech a smile, although it would never be seen, and pressed the box into Blindside’s hands.

“I’m going to need your help.” Once the box was secure in Blindside’s hands Veneer turned, scooped up another container and placed it on a slab but before he set off to load it he paused and raised his head. With his back to the slate blue flier Veneer finally responded to Blindside’s previous request.

“Side, you’ve never stopped protecting me,” he said warmly before turning part way around to look back at Blindside. “I know that’ll never change.” Veneer paused for a moment before turning around and picking back up where he had left off.

“So, when we’re done here we can head to the armory where you can load up, or strap up or whatever you guys call it, and then we can head to the Longevity.”

Medical Bay

Blindside looked on confused and a bit concerned at Veneer who extricated himself from the blue tactician's grasp. The nurse retrieved a storage container and began packing several medical supplies into it. Quite a varied assortment at that. Did...that mean...Veneer was...? His dear friend looked back at him and heaved a heavy sigh from his vocalizer.

“I’m being reassigned."

Yes. Yes it did. After all Veneer's protests...Blindside gave his friend a look even as he turned away to tend to Warpath who was laying prostrate on the medical slab. Blindside shook his head and smiled reassuringly at Veneer who could not see it, for he had turned his head away. Something that went completely over Blindside's head at times. It was easy to forget that others could only see in one direction as opposed to the 360 degree view that the blind Autobot was accustomed to.

Veneer continued to explain the specifics of his reassignment, 'watching' the form of his friend mill about the room. Veneer grabbed the box of medical supplies and approached the blind tactician, pressing it into his hands. Gathering that Veneer wished for him to hold it, Blindside gripped the box, taking the weight off of Veneer's actuators.

“I’m going to need your help."

Smiling warmly, Blindside nodded and watched as Veneer turned away and fetched another box, setting it on a medical slab to load it full of medical supplies. However, his friend paused and lifted his head. Blindside waited expectantly, knowing body language well enough to interpret this as a 'about to say something' moment.

“Side, you’ve never stopped protecting me," he said warmly before turning part way around to look back at Blindside. “I know that’ll never change."

"Heh, got that right," Blindside said with a smile as his dear friend looked back at him. However, the smile soon faded as Veneer turned back around to continue loading the box where he had left off. Blindside shifted his grip on the box of medical supplies and moved over to Warpath's bedside, casting his empty optical sockets down at the prone form of the warrior.

The blind tactician turned his head to get a better look at monitor next to Warpath's berth reflexively. To his constant frustration, turning his head to look at the monitor did nothing to reveal whatever was displayed on the screen. Datapad displays...holograms...it was all the same. He could see none of them. Useful at times for seeing through a holographic facade, but he first had to realize that there was a hologram there to begin with.

“So, when we’re done here we can head to the armory where you can load up, or strap up or whatever you guys call it, and then we can head to the Longevity."

"It's gear up. Or I think it is. You should probably ask someone who cares about the specific terminology," Blindside said with a chuckle, refraining from turning his head to look at Veneer to keep from revealing the duplicity of his words in contrast to his facial expression. Blindside's faceplate was grim and sad, accented by the tenebrous voids behind the protective glass that shielded his optical cavity.

Veneer was going down to Earth. In relative proximity to the Fallen. One of the Thirteen. Anxiety overrode the slate blue flier's features. Veneer would stay away from the worst of the fighting of course, but...there was no accounting for the stray chance that something...something could go wrong...Blindside tightened his grip on the edge of the box as he went to offline his optics, realizing an astrosecond later the reality of his situation once more.

No. He couldn't worry about Veneer in the thick of things down there. Veneer would be fine. He would be safe. There were scores of warriors to get through before anyone ever reached the medics. Veneer would be fine. Blindside had to worry about himself. He couldn't come home to Veneer in pieces. No, that just wouldn't do.

Keeping himself turned away from Veneer, Blindside began to compose himself. However, some worries refused to be allayed until they were given voice.

"Hey Vee?" Blindside began, not turning to look at Veneer, "Be careful down there."

Shuttle Longevity - Docking Boon

The mechanical timber wolf trotted across the cargo bay and entered the docking boon that lead into the Longevity. He made no attempt to grab any remaining crates that needed to be stowed on board nor did he ask anyone if more help was required. Instead, Howlstrike remained silent and focused on the mission ahead. The Fallen, his heralds, particularly Hardhead, were all that his processor dwelled on. Although, that wasn’t entirely true. Razorclaw was another primary concern. Howl hadn’t seen his former commander in well over a vorn and now they would come faceplate to faceplate once more on the battlefield. Only this time they would be fighting side by side again facing a common enemy in the form of a fiery demigod. What an interesting reunion that would be, one that would likely create tension in the ranks on both sides.

Of course, Howlstrike had no intention of attacking Razorclaw, at least not right away. Instead, Hardhead would be the first to come under the former Predacon’s wrath. The hunter wouldn’t outright kill the war veteran as he was possessed after all and wasn’t really responsible for his own actions. Still, the tracker’s vengeance against the evil incarnation of the green mech would be slow and painful. Whatever demon was controlling Hardhead would know what it meant to suffer even if the ‘Bot within felt it, too. Then, once the Fallen and his heralds were defeated and the Decepticons finally turned on the Autobots, and they would turn on them, Howl would make his move and rip Razorclaw apart, leaving the 'Cons leaderless yet again. It wasn’t about being a hero. It was about retribution. It was inevitable.

As he continued to dwell on the coming carnage, Howlstrike entered the passenger section of the Longevity and immediately transformed back into his robot mode. He glanced around at those who were already present and let out a slight snarl before taking a seat at the very back of the cabin. The former Predacon wanted to be left alone. He was still filled with anger, but he kept it at bay by off-lining his optics as he began to meditate. It was the only thing that kept him from losing control and lashing out at his own comrades. But on the fields of war there would be no meditation. Howl’s enemies would feel his full fury and nothing would stop that. Nothing.
_________

Smokescreen traversed the numerous corridors of the medical frigate, holding firmly onto Tracer’s hand as he guided her through the ship. The red and blue racer said nothing to her as they continued onward. He wasn’t exactly sure what else he could say that hadn’t already been spoken or promised. Nothing short of staying behind with her would make the drug-addicted femme feel any better about the situation, but it was something Smokey just couldn’t do. He had to go and fight. It was his duty to help his fellow Autobots. His diversionary skills would likely play an important if not dangerous role in the coming battle. It could literary mean the difference between defeating the Fallen and allowing the return of Unicron, himself! The rallybot couldn’t just stay behind while his comrades sacrificed themselves. It wasn’t in his nature.

Finally, the cargo bay was directly ahead and the diversion expert’s spark began to pulsate faster. He was not so much nervous for his own safety, but for how Tracer would handle things up here without him. She was still a drug addict and suffered from a serious mental disorder. Any number of things could go wrong if she didn't properly take the replicated Syk. Smokescreen had to trust that she could handle things on her own. Worrying about her would only distract him from the coming battle, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. Lives were at stake. No, an entire race of mechanical beings were at stake. The rallybot needed to remain focused. Otherwise, everyone, including Tracer, would die as a result.

“Well, here we are, Tracer,” Smokescreen said as the rallybot made his way across the cargo bay and stopped at the opening of the Longevity's docking boon. “Doesn’t look like everyone’s here yet so we have some time.” The diversion expert looked deeply into the worried femme’s optics and gave her a long, broad smile in order to comfort her. “Look, I know I’ve said this already, but I’m going to be okay. I will come back to you. I promise. However, you need to promise me something, too. All right?” Smokey paused for a moment as he let his words sink in. He then spoke in a hushed tone so that no one else could overhear him. “Promise me that you’ll be okay up here. You know how to work the replicator in Wheeljack’s lab. Use it only when you need it. Don’t let your condition get out of hand because you’re worrying about me down there. Forget the Fallen. Forget Oil Slick. You can do this, Trace. I need you to do this. I have faith in you. I’ve always had faith in you, and I always will.”

Medical Bay

"It's gear up. Or I think it is. You should probably ask someone who cares about the specific terminology," Blindside said with a chuckle.

Veneer back at his friend. He was never any good with military jargon. But he tried. So, with the box in his hands, Veneer strode over to Blindside. The blind mech refused to meet the nurse face to face.

The small smile that had been on Veneer’s face dropped into a frown. “I can hear you brooding you know.” Balancing the box now in one hand the nurse placed his free servo lightly on the other mech’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried. I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t be, but…” he shifted slightly and removed his hand. Once his burden was balanced Veneer moved to stand before Blindside.

“I can take care of myself. I don’t have much experience in the field, but then again I won’t be in the thick of things this time around,” he smiled. He then peered over his good friend’s shoulder. “Oh! I almost forgot that!” he moved past Blindside to retrieve the item he would need.

"Hey Vee?" Blindside began, not turning to look at Veneer, "Be careful down there."

Veneer had stopped in front of a shelf and rose up on the balls of his feet. With one hand extended he rummaged around for the scanner. He stopped however when he heard Blindside’s request.

The nurse finally grasped the item but remained silent. He could make a promise, but there were just too many variables. However it was going to put Blindside at ease then he’d do it.

He stepped back to the box and gently placed the scanner within. After a long pause he raised his head and lifted the box but kept his back to the blind mech. “As you wish,” he said warmly. A moment later and he was standing beside Blindside. Gently Veneer bumped the other mech in the arm with his elbow. “We better get moving. I don’t want to be late. Primus knows Ratchet would dismantle me only to put me back together as something useful, heh.”

Veneer stepped away and was just about to exit the Med Bay when he suddenly stopped. “You know, we don’t have to stop at the armory. You always have your weapons ready. Primus knows why when you’re not in combat,” he said good-naturedly.

Veneer said nothing more as he moved past Blindside and out of the Med Bay. After a brief moment Blindside followed.

Shuttle Longevity – Docking Boon

Thanking Primus for small miracles Veneer spotted the docking boon to the shuttle. The nurse let out a low sigh of relief as he simultaneously picked up his pace. It may have looked as though he was anxious to get on board and get down to the planet, in actuality Veneer was just happy to get the opportunity to set down his burden.

“We’re here.” A sense of dread began to creep into his processor and spark. Soon he and Blindside would be planet side…he’d be tending to those wounded in the upcoming battle. He could only hope that he would not see Side. “You know…” he stared ahead as he spoke. “…I’d rather be anywhere other than here right now.”
______

Tracer had remained silent following along where ever Smokescreen had lead her. Her grip was steady and tight as though if she let him go he’d be gone to her forever. The thought had repeatedly crept into her processor making it difficult to think of anything but what her life would be like without him…again.

The scout squelched the unwanted thinking and tried to focus on anything but.

It was when Smokescreen had finally stopped that Tracer turned her full attention on the diversion expert. She focused on everything…his optics, his smile, the new frame he was now in.

“Well, here we are, Tracer," Smokescreen said. “Doesn’t look like everyone’s here yet so we have some time."

A nod was the only acknowledgment given to the red and blue rallybot. She could pretend that everything would be okay, but then she would be lying to herself.

Tracer sighed as she looked back into Smokey’s optics. What she wouldn’t give to stay right here.

“Look, I know I’ve said this already, but I’m going to be okay. I will come back to you. I promise. However, you need to promise me something, too. All right?"

She waited patiently to hear his request.

“Promise me that you’ll be okay up here. You know how to work the replicator in Wheeljack’s lab. Use it only when you need it. Don’t let your condition get out of hand because you’re worrying about me down there. Forget the Fallen. Forget Oil Slick. You can do this, Trace. I need you to do this. I have faith in you. I’ve always had faith in you, and I always will."

She already knew this was coming. A promise she hoped she could keep. It was only recently that confessed to him about her real past. About her addiction and now he was asking her to promise that she would be alright. She could not lie to him and tell him she would; that was just another lie.

“Smokescreen, I’m not going to lie to you…not again, not anymore.” Tracer lowered her gaze form his optics and gently placed her hand over the spark hidden in his chest. “I’m not okay, not now and I won’t be once you leave.” She paused for a moment swallowing hard before continuing. “I won’t have a problem with the replicator, but right now, at this moment I could care less about me.”

Tracer focused on her hand still pressed against his chest and with her free hand she captured one of his hands. “Forgetting the Fallen and Oil Slick, that’s impossible, even you know that,” she said lowly.

“I will promise you this…I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll stay strong.” She let her hand slide from his chest. “I thought you were dead. I lost hope of ever seeing you again even after vorns of searching and combing through casualty lists. And then out of nowhere you show up…here.” Tracer gave Smokescreen a forced smile. It faltered, however, “I don’t want to lose you again.”

Shuttle Longevity

Scoop hefted the last crate of medical supplies into primary cargo hold that had been designated as the shuttle's medical bay for the duration of their deployment. He carefully set the plastic container onto the shelf at the furthest end of the hold, just beyond the two operating tables that were hastily being bolted into place by service droids that had not been usurped by the repair teams destined for the Guardian's engine room.

"There, that should make the good doctor and his staff fairly happy." He commented to no one in particular as he wiped away a fictitious stream of condensation from his brow. A quick survey of the surprisingly spacious area that was under rapid conversion. He took note that the two droids that remained, secured the final bolts to the surgery tables and were already rolling in the final set of medical equipment pieces that would be installed along the wall near the supplies locker.

It never ceased to amaze him how efficiently everything turned from a crisis situation, one of utter chaos, into something controlled and determined to overcome. Scoop reached into a small panel along his left breast plate and pulled out a small trinket bound to a crimson chain. Resting the trinket on his open palm, he allowed himself to absorb the significant meanings behind the flashing green crystal.

It was a shard of Primus, or at least that was what he was determined to believe. Before the war Scoop had discovered the relic amongst a large cash of discarded refuse that had been pulled... or more realistically looted, from the holy Temple of Primus. The event had happened years before but even though most had been picked clean by scavengers and scrappers, Scoop had managed to find the chain and hence drawn to the artifact. Since then it had become a lucky charm that would see him to the end of this forsaken war.

The infantryman said a silent prayer to their creator, a prayer for protection of his friends and the safe return for everyone as they were about to embark upon yet another harrowing charge into hell's gnashing drill bit. Unseen beneath the curled fingers of his fist the gem's hew lightened as if it had received his prayer and awaited the appropriate time to respond. Once done he finished with the traditional plea to Primus for safe passage. The final tribute finally said, Scoop placed the relic back into its proper place in his chest plate.

He pivoted on heel and departed Cargo Bay One, soon to undergo the designation Longevity's Medical Facility. With a few strides he walked through the loaded corridors and approached Railway and Jazz as they finalized their checks on the supplies that were being transferred onboard. "Medical Facility is completely loaded and the droids should have it fully operational within the next half breem."

Shuttle Longevity - Docking Boon

Smokescreen let out a deep sigh when Tracer admitted to him that she was not okay now and would not be okay once he was gone. In all actuality, the rallybot had never expected the troubled femme to be all right. He knew she would worry about him and he knew her problems would still be there even if they were hidden just beneath the surface. He didn’t want to hear that answer, however, hoping she would just tell a little white lie in order to make him feel better. Of course, he completely understood why she wanted to be totally honest with him. She had lied to him before about this same issue and she clearly didn’t want to do that again. Sometimes easier isn’t always better in the long run.

The diversion expert remained silent and listened to her vocals as she continued to speak softly, promising him that she would be there when he got back and that she would stay strong for him. Tracer reiterated her desire to never lose him again. Hopefully, that would be the case, but this Fallen business presented a good deal of uncertainties about the fate of not just himself but of the entire Cybertronian race as a whole. They could all die or perhaps just Smokescreen would die. He would give his spark to protect his fellow Autobots and especially to ensure that Tracer was alive and safe even if she would have to go on living without him.

“I understand, Tracer,” the red and blue mech conceded as he gazed back into her worrisome optics. “And, honestly, I don’t really know how things will turn out down there. I’m not even sure how to stop a demigod let alone save our friends who are under his control. His power seems so great that I can only hope our combined forces with the ‘Cons will be enough to overwhelm the Fallen and his heralds.” Smokescreen paused for a moment, looking away to the floor before returning his attention to the troubled scout. “I don’t want to lie to you, either. I’m scared, more so than ever before. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to come back to you one way or another. However....” Smokey’s voice faltered for a brief moment. “....however, I still have a job to do and comrades to fight alongside. I will not abandon them not even in the face of certain death. If we do not succeed down there then there will be nothing to come back to here. Even you will be gone and I can not allow that to happen.”

Before Tracer could protest, Smokescreen moved in close to her and embraced the troubled femme within his arms. The rallybot held her tight as if it would be the last time he would ever see her. Unfortunately, it very well could be, but he would not say that aloud. They both knew the risks of the forthcoming battle. The two of them had seen what this endless war had done to both sides and now it could all come to a sudden end in a way that neither faction had ever anticipated. “I love you, Trace,” Smokey whispered into her audio receptor as he off-lined his optics while simultaneously caressing her back plating with his hands. The diversion expert wanted this moment to last forever, even though he knew that it wouldn’t. Then, after what felt like a breem had gone by, Smokescreen onlined his optics again and slowly pulled back before leaning his chevron against her own. “I guess I should get on board now. Ultra Magnus and the others will be here soon. And, besides, you know how I hate long goodbyes.”

Shuttle Longevity – Docking Boon

Axle was able to keep in step with Ratchet for most of their trek; however the CMO seemed to gain a burst in his step as he pulled further away from the field medic. Axle let out a sigh as he picked up his pace. “Ratchet. Would you…” he jogged for a moment, “…would you slow down.”

“You said it before yourself; we need to get on board and set that slagging med bay up,” Ratchet spoke through a clenched jaw. This entire ordeal was eating at him. Not only could he not fix the problem he had no idea how to begin to approach it. Yes, he and Axle had come up with something, but would that something be enough to rid them of a determined demigod? Ratchet raked his hand down the length of his face.

“It’ll work,” Axle said when he say the drained doctor slide his hand over his face. Ratchet laughed ruefully. “You think so, huh? You think it’ll be okay?” Ratchet stopped and turned around to face Axle. “Because I’m not sure. I don’t think this half-assed idea will give us any kind of chance.”

Axle shook his head. “Then why did you suggest it?” The CMO raised his optics to the ceiling. “Why? Because it’s the only option I could come up with.” Ratchet lowered his gaze back down onto his subordinate. “And you think it’ll work.”

It was Axle’s turn to look away. After half a breem without another word spoken Ratchet turned around and moved on. The black and green field medic followed but only after the CMO was far enough ahead.

Not long after the two Autobots finished their ‘talk’ they made it to the docking boon leading to the Longevity.

Ratchet took note of the ‘Bots milling about. Half an astrosecond and he spotted Veneer holding a box, and with him with his constant companion Blindside who was also laden with full box of equipment.

The white and red doctor gently nudged Axle’s arm with his elbow drawing the attention of the other medic. “I’m heading inside. Make sure Veneer gets those supplies into Hold One sooner rather than later.” With that Ratchet stepped past Axle and made his way inside the shuttle.

A quick look in Veneer’s direction and Axle knew the nurse would need just a little more time before he’d drag him inside. With a sigh the field medic scanned the rest of the gathered mecha. He stopped instantly when he spotted two Autobtos he had hoped he wouldn’t see.

However, instead of approaching Smokescreen and Tracer he decided to refrain and just give them a bit a space.
_____

“I still have a job to do and comrades to fight alongside. I will not abandon them not even in the face of certain death. If we do not succeed down there then there will be nothing to come back to here. Even you will be gone and I can not allow that to happen."

Tracer looked away quickly. “I know, Smokey.” She stepped in closer to him as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Tracer settled in as best she could she pressed in as closely as she could. Her head rested just under his chin.

“I love you, Trace," Smokey whispered into her audio receptor.

The scout off-lined her own optics as his hands ran gently down her back plating. Why in the name of Primus did this have to happen now? She banished the thoughts of the Fallen taking Smokescreen from her. From losing the battle with the Fallen. From her species being wiped from existence.

Tracer reluctantly pulled back. She kept her optics off-line even after Smokey pressed his chevron against hers.

“I guess I should get on board now. Ultra Magnus and the others will be here soon. And, besides, you know how I hate long goodbyes."

A small delicate smile formed on her face as her optics powered up. “I know. That last goodbye on Cybertron was…”Her smile faulted as she pulled her head away from his.

The scout gazed at the rallybot for a long moment before placing her hands gently on his cheeks. Carefully Tracer tilted his head up so she could look him in the eyes. She smiled as best she could. “Smokey, I…” Tracer stopped her mouth opened slightly as she tried to form the words to what she needed to say.

Their optics still locked Tracer shook her head in defeat. She’d never be able to tell him how she felt when she couldn’t even form the words.

Tracer closed her mouth her lips curling slightly as she smiled at the diversion expert. Moving in close Tracer pressed her lips against Smokescreen’s. Her optics off-lined all that mattered was this moment.

She slowly, almost painfully pulled away, but only far enough so that she could place her chin on his shoulder. “I love you, Smokescreen,” Tracer whispered.

From a short distance away Axle watched as the scout said her goodbyes. For a moment he turned his optics from the spectacle feeling a bit uncomfortable witnessing such a private moment. Unfortunately he and Smokescreen had to get on board.

Axle moved silently over to the embracing lovers. When they made no move to separate the field medic gently touched Smokescreen’s shoulder. *ahem* “Smokescreen? We have to get going,” Axle said in a hushed tone.

Medical Bay

“I can hear you brooding you know." Balancing the box now in one hand the nurse placed his free servo lightly on the other mech’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried. I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t be, but…" he shifted slightly and removed his hand.

Blindside grimaced, flinching as Veneer saw right through him once more. He had an uncanny ability to see right through whatever ruse Blindside put on. Why did he even try anymore? Oh right. Because he was stubborn. Blindside's shoulder plates slumped down and the tactician corrected his posture, looking over to Veneer now.

“As you wish," he said warmly. A moment later and he was standing beside Blindside. Gently Veneer bumped the other mech in the arm with his elbow. “We better get moving. I don’t want to be late. Primus knows Ratchet would dismantle me only to put me back together as something useful, heh."

"Urk, you're right. And he'll bludgeon me for keeping you," the blind Autobot said with a chuckle. It gave Blindside some piece of mind to hear Veneer promise to be careful. However...Blindside knew as well as...or perhaps even better than the nurse that the odds were stacked overwhelmingly against them. If they failed...Veneer would...no, not only Veneer but everyone that he...everything that he had striven for will have been for nothing. It could not end this way. No. He absolutely refused.

“You know, we don’t have to stop at the armory. You always have your weapons ready. Primus knows why when you’re not in combat," he said good-naturedly.

"It always pays to be prepared, Veneer," Blindside said as he walked with the nurse out of the medical bay.

Shuttle Longevity - Docking Boon

Blindside glanced at Veneer as the nurse bot heaved a sigh of relief as they neared the docking boon. The blind Autobot grinned at his dear friend's antics. Honestly, Blindside could have carried both boxes, sacrificing some stability admittedly, but still. He knew Veneer would have none of it though and had remained silent. No point in pursuing a useless venture.

“You know…" he stared ahead as he spoke. "…I’d rather be anywhere other than here right now."

The blind tactician looked over to Veneer softly, seeing the dread began to wrap its cold tendrils around his dear friend. "I know, Vee. So would I," Blindside said with a gentle nudge to Veneer's elbow. "Though it may not seem like it sometimes," he added with a chuckle.

There were so many things Blindside wanted to promise Veneer. That it would be alright. That they would both come out of this alive. That he would come back to Veneer whole and intact. That this would all be over very soon and Veneer would never have to worry about Blindside getting hurt ever again. But he couldn't. He couldn't make those promises and plan to keep them.

Blindside needed to say...say something to Veneer. Something to console his dear friend. Something. Anything. Anything that was true beyond the shadow of a doubt. But...try as he might...as desperately as he might, he was at a loss for words. Seized by a sudden notion, Blindside carefully set down his box of medical supplies onto the ground. Rising to his full height one again, Blindside turned to face Veneer and embraced the nurse, albeit a little awkwardly seeing as Veneer still head his box.

Not prone to outward signs of affection, Blindside desperately hoped that this was enough to convey what mere words could not. That this one action could convey all of the feeling deep within his spark. Blindside pressed his lips against the top of Veneer's head and held the nurse for several prolonged astroseconds. He said nothing, but simply was silent.

Eventually, Blindside reluctantly released Veneer and hefted up his box of medical supplies, looking to Veneer with a warm smile. "Alright, Vee. Where should we set down our load?"

Shuttle Longevity - Docking Boon

“I know. That last goodbye on Cybertron was…”

“...Unbearable,” Smokescreen said, finishing the troubled femme’s sentence. The rallybot remembered that moment like it had been yesterday and now it seemed to be happening all over again. Would they be separated this time for as many vorns like before or perhaps even forever if the diversion expert didn’t make it back with his spark intact? He shuttered to even think of such things, but he couldn’t help it when faced with such adversities. It was quite possible that the Fallen could wipe them all out with a single flick of his actuators, engulfing every mech in the same fire that surrounded Hot Rod’s former body. Hopefully, they would all have more of a fighting chance than that, but who knew for sure.

Smokescreen then listened as Tracer tried to speak, her words failing, but only long enough for her to lean in and kiss him on his lip plating. It was a show of deep affection that he gladly returned in kind. Once she pulled back, the troubled femme placed her head on his shoulder and finally finished the words she had begun only moments ago. “I love you, Smokescreen.”

The diversionary tactician said nothing further, only embracing her once more in a futile attempt to make it last forever. Smokey off-lined his optics again as he pulled her closer to his new frame but then on-lined them just as quickly when he felt Axle’s hand on his shoulder. It was time to get going now. The inevitable had been put off long enough. Smokescreen took at step back from Tracer and looked around at the field medic. “Okay, Axle, I’ll be there in an astrosec.”

The rallybot then returned his attention to the drug-addled femme and forced a slight smile. “Well, this is it, Tracer,” Smokescreen whispered as he caressed her cheek with his actuators. “Stay safe.” The red and blue racer leaned in and gave her one final kiss on her chevron before backing away and turning towards the shuttle. “I’m ready. Let’s go,” Smokey said to the former doctor with a stoic expression on his faceplate.

The diversion expert then made his way through the docking boon, briefly stopping at the Longevity’s hatch to glance back at Tracer one last time. Smokescreen didn’t smile. He simply nodded and gave a wave before finally disappearing into the shuttle and out of the troubled scout’s line of sight.